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bixbythemartian · 10 months

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This is About Oceangate

...kind of. Like, heads up for people who are sick of hearing about it or are too disturbed by this, just scoot on by, that's fine.

Like everybody else my age who had a middle school special interest in the Titanic that was further fueled by the James Cameron movie (and that sounds very specific, but I absolutely know I'm not alone), I've been following this story fuckin voraciously.

I think everybody I know IRL and online is fucking sick of me talking about it. I have been actively trying not to blog much about it here because I'm so obsessed with it that I'm annoyed with myself. I would like to not be this interested in it.

But a lot of the stuff I can think of to say has been said by a lot of people already, I don't want to add to an already noisy environment if I've got nothing new to say.

So, instead, I want to talk about what I haven't seen very many people talking about- something that's stood out to me about the way the media has been handling this story from the get-go. So, finally, I'm inflicting my days long media binge on you.

The media's handling of this was bad. Like, comprehensively fucked.

For the uninformed, a primer on the situation- feel free to skip down if you know all this, there's a bulleted list right after I get done with this part, look for that. But some of this is important to the terms I use, so I wanted to lay it out. (Also I just want to get a lot of this out of my system, please just let me have this.)

The Titan is a 'cyclops-class' submersible. As far as I can tell, 'cyclops-class' is unique to the people who made this submersible, it's not a widely recognized thing.

The Titan can carry up to five passengers. It was supposed to be rated to reach depths of up to 4000 meters below sea level.

The Titan is/was owned and operated by a company known as Oceangate. There's a lot of questions regarding the safety of the submersible, where the math came from on their depth rating, and- basically everything about the Titan is in question, at this point. There's a lot of questions, but that's not what I want to talk about.

Right now. Maybe later.

A submersible is distinct from a submarine in that it requires a surface support ship for many things- the Titan moved too slow to leave port under its own power and go to the site, it didn't have enough life support to do that kind of thing, etc. A submarine is self-supporting and can operate independently. Kind of pedantic, I know, but the Titan is a submersible, not a submarine.

The Titan had a planned expedition to the wreck of the Titanic on June 18, 2023- this past Sunday, at the time of writing. The expedition was supposed to last around 10 hours. It chartered a ship- the Polar Prince- to act as mother ship, the on the surface support that the Titan requires. (The Polar Prince is owned and operated by a different company than the Titan.)

1 hour and 45 minutes into the expedition, as the Titan was still making its way to the sea floor, the Polar Prince lost all contact with the submersible.

The Titanic wreck is at just under 4000 meters deep, right around 2.5 miles.

Now, my understanding is that the Titan was not fully at the ocean floor at the point contact was lost, but it's not clear how deep the Titan was at that time. We may not ever know this for certain.

When the Titan was reported as missing to the coast guard is kind of unclear, to me- I heard 6 hours after they lost contact, I heard 12 hours after they lost contact, I saw something that indicated they reported it missing immediately- I don't know for sure. When the coast guard report comes out, I'm hoping we'll get a more accurate timeline.

However, as soon as it was reported missing, a massive search and rescue operationg was started. Complicating the search efforts were the fact that the submersible seemed to have no type of emergency distress locator beacon (I'm not sure what the precise nautical terminology would be for this).

The search included visual searching of the surface, dropping buoys with microphones, and ROVs (unmanned remote operated vehicles, deep sea robots operated by crew on ships at the surface) searching the floor, and probably some other stuff I'm forgetting. Deep sea radar etc etc, every tool they had access to.

The search and rescue concluded on Thursday (June 22, 2023) around midday, when they definitively found pieces of the destroyed submersible's pressure vessel (the part of the submersible that held pressure and kept the people safe and alive) in a debris field, approximately 1600 feet away from the Titanic.

The destroyed pressure vessel and reports from the Navy on hearing sounds consistent with implosion at the time the Titan lost contact indicates that the submersible underwent what is being called a 'catastrophic implosion'.

It is now an investigation and recovery operation, while they try to figure out what exactly went wrong.

The five men in the sub are dead. In all likelihood, they died so quickly that their nervous system didn't have time to process what happened. What happened to their bodies during this was probably gory and kind of horrifying, but it's unlikely they experienced any awareness of this.

There were five extremely wealthy men on the submersible- they were not all billionaires, but those that weren't were worth hundreds of millions of dollars. If you want a rough sketch of their biographies, there's a link here. Other than them being pretty wealthy, who they are doesn't play that much into what I want to talk about, so I don't feel the need to go into it right now. (Again, as more information comes out, I may come back for another swing.)

So, my complaint. The number of times I saw a news interview with an expert that went like this is not small:

news host interviews deep ocean expert of some variety (who is not involved in rescue)

host asks expert what chances are that the dudes are alive and will be recovered alive

expert, being honest, says something like 'slim to none'

host responds with some amount of sincere-seeming disappointment, then after interview, pivots to the ongoing search for the definitely still alive people

There were news programs with clocks counting down how much theoretical oxygen was left. There were frequent updates to news stories with nothingburgers of additions, just to pad it out. It was, if they were alive at that moment, fucking ghoulish. That they were dead makes it even more horrible.

And I cannot emphasize enough how many experts said, to generalize and paraphrase here: "Unless they are found bobbing on the surface in the next n hours, they are dead. Even if they are alive right this minute, on the bottom of the ocean, there is no hope to rescue them in time."

This is not a failure of any of the rescue entities involved, by the way. The environment they were presumed to be in- 4000 meters under sea level- is so extreme that there are very few vehicles in the world with the capability of even getting to that depth. Like, 10 or less. As far as I know, none of them are designed to do any kind of deep sea rescue- which would have involved carefully scooping up or netting the Titan and hauling it up very slowly. There's no way to transfer personnel between ships at this depth, and the Titan had the largest passenger allowance at this depth, afaik. Like, the odds were incredibly, vanishingly small that these men would live.

The media, at large, never ever really allowed that to change the way they talked about this story or treated the participants in the story. At around 11 am or noon (central daylight time) on Thursday I saw them talking about how 'oxygen is critical'.

Oxygen was critical 24 hours prior. Even by the most generous of expectations, they were out of breathable air. Given how, to put it mildly, janky the submersible seemed to have been, there was absolutely no guarantee that they had even the 96 hours that Oceangate claimed.

Their likelihood of being rescued alive from the ocean floor was minimal on Monday. By Thursday, they were dead- again, unless they were found on the surface somewhere and had managed to carefully preserve their air somehow, they were already dead.

The media didn't really allow for the reality of the situation to be clear until Oceangate and the USCG came out and said 'yeah, they're dead'.

"Well, what's the problem with that?" you might ask. "The United States Coast Guard was the one who was saying it was a rescue up until that point."

Sure. That's their job. Their job is to treat it like an urgent rescue until it is certain that it is not. A significant amount of what they do is to rescue people from doing damnfool things in the water, and keeping hope alive until they find bodies, or evidence thereof. They were doing exactly what they should be doing.

(Whether they do this to this extent for everybody lost at sea is another conversation that's absolutely worth having, as well as their role in border patrol, but I have no bone to pick with the USCG in this particular instance. They did their all until they could do no more, that's the whole point of them, this is how they're supposed to operate.)

The media was not doing what they should be doing. There's an old quote somewhere that I think is just a journalism truism (everyone I've heard talk about it says their journalism professor said it)- if someone tells you it's raining, and someone else tells you it's not, your job isn't to report that, your job is to go outside and see if it's wet.

James Cameron- director of the aforementioned Titanic movie, as well as being a Titanic and deep sea submersible expert, knew they were dead on Monday.

He reached out to some people, he found out that the mother ship lost contact with the crew as well as their location at the same instant, and that the Navy heard a sound consistent with an implosion at around that time.

The information that the Navy heard the implosion was not classified information- they heard it via a listening system that was declassified in the 90s, I believe. Like, I knew about the system just kind of casually because I know random Navy stuff. (My dad was in the Navy, it's mostly osmosis.)

The people on the scene were informed as soon as the Navy knew. (When that was, I'm not sure, except it was before Monday. Probably they had someone go back and listen to it and weren't actively monitoring it, but it's hard to say.)

The deep ocean submersible community knew, well enough that James Cameron could call a buddy and find out. He was telling people on Monday to raise a glass to them.

The media could have had this information, if they did not have it. Either they didn't want to know, or did know, and didn't say it. And I can't say for certain they were suppressing information, but I do know that they frequently downplayed any evidence that these people were dead.

I know on CNN they ran a story about FADOSS- the FlyAway Deep Ocean Salvage System- that was shipped out to Newfoundland. It arrived Wednesday afternoon. Description in the alt text, link here.

At the time this story was published, the people in the sub would have theoretically had less than 24 hours of breathable air. They hadn't even chartered a ship for the FADOSS, at this point. And the port in Newfoundland is hundreds of miles from the site. I'm not sure how many hours away but, like, hours away. I think I heard it's a 6 hour trip, but I'm not certain on that.

This system was referenced in the news as if it was going to be part of the rescue process. Very clearly, this was never going to happen. The quote, 'a process which can take a full day' is a mild understatement, here.

It could, theoretically, be done in 24 hours, but was much more likely to take longer, unless they had enough crew in Newfoundland to do round-the-clock welding.

The response to the question about recovering someone alive is a polite way of saying 'that's not what we do'. They were not part of the rescue operation and were never intended to be, as far as I can tell.

(If you're wondering what part the FADOSS is going to take in the recovery and investigation process, it's not. It's used to lift heavy objects off the floor, and the Titan broke into small enough pieces that the ROVs are believed capable of handling it. FADOSS is on its way back to wherever it is kept. I suspect it was brought out in the edge case that the submersible was found intact with dead crew, to retrieve the vessel whole, so that the families would have bodies to bury.)

Setting aside the 'oh they definitely blew up' news that seems to have been available the whole time, every single piece of evidence and expertise pointed to these people being dead, and yet the news persisted in sort of breathlessly (sorry) talking about the rescue efforts and how much time was left. They persisted in talking about how definitely still alive these people were until they could not do that anymore.

Other examples of this issue are the knocking thing. There were reports of some of the buoys picking up something that could be described as 'knocking'. Some said it was 'every thirty minutes' but we don't know how precise a measurement that was. As soon as they started talking about the knocking, I looked into it.

As it turns out, this is just a thing that happens. The sea is very noisy, and it's hard to determine the source of a sound. Some geological things sound manmade, vice versa. They had a lot of ships cooperating together to work the search area, it's possible that they were hearing noise from those, or something from an oil platform a jillion miles away, because noise travels far and is hard to pinpoint. They had this issue while searching for the sunken USS Thresher and it was one of the ships doing the searching. Given how many different moving parts there were in this search operation, it's hard to say what the knocking was. This is just a thing in the ocean, there's a lot of fuckin noise and experts can't always pinpoint it down in location or even what it might be.

This is why, even though they heard sounds that were consistent with implosion, at the time that the Titan lost total contact with the mother ship, it was still treated as if there was a live rescue operation. Because they couldn't be certain.

But the odds were extremely poor that these men were alive, and almost everybody involved knew that fairly early on. Again, the rescue operation had to go forward like they were looking for someone alive because that's how that works. The media, on the other hand, handled this in a very irresponsible way.

And, like, I know, news media is bad at being news is not some like hot new thing, I've just been building up frustration for days and so it had to come out somehow.

I'm not sure how much of this was just because they're very wealthy men- only one of whom I've ever heard of before- and how much of it was because it was a very bizarre and unique ongoing situation, how much of it was the intersection of that.

But pretty much everybody with enough knowledge to be worth talking to about this knew, like, Monday that even if they weren't dead right then, they were very unlikely to make it out alive, and watching the news wind a bunch of people up over the hopeful outcome was revolting.

Okay. We'll see if I can go 24 hours without talking about this. If you made it to the end of this absolute fucking novel, congratulations and/or I'm sorry.

#oceangate #titan submersible #this is just a personal rant about the media involved

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cheynovak · 10 days

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Somewhere only we know

Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: 18+, angst, jealousy, fluff, spicy scene, ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 12690 - Sorry I might have let myself go a bit...

*Does not follow The SPN storyline *

Y/N is Bobby’s niece, when she decided to take a break from college, she needed a job and a place to stay. Since she had been around cars her whole live, her uncle provided her a job as mechanic and to handle the papers in his shop. This is where she meets Dean. The son of one of Bobby’s oldest friends and his only employee.

Y/N gripped the steering wheel tightly as she cruised down the familiar stretch of highway leading to Sioux Falls. The decision to stop her college program a few months over the summer had weighed heavily on her dad’s mind, but now, with each passing mile marker, a sense of relief washed over her. She was finally taking control of her own destiny.

Her uncle Bobby and aunt Karen's house came into view, nestled in the outskirts of the city. As she parked in the driveway, memories of childhood visits flooded her mind. The smell of Aunt Karen's homemade apple pie, the sound of Uncle Bobby's grumpy comments echoing through the house, it all felt like coming home.

Stepping out of her car, Y/N was greeted with warm hugs and smiles from her relatives. Aunt Karen's eyes twinkled with excitement as she exclaimed, "Y/N, darling, it's so good to see you!” “It’s good to see you too.” She hugged her aunt back.

Uncle Bobby, wasted no time in putting Y/N to work. "Glad you're here, kiddo," he said with a grin. "Got a ton of cars and paperwork in the shop that is need of some TLC. Think you can lend a hand?"

Y/N nodded eagerly, “I would love to help.” grateful for the chance to be useful. She had always admired Uncle Bobby's knack for fixing anything with an engine, and the idea of learning the ropes alongside him excited her. “Oh, come on Bobby, the kid just got here, I think she at least deserves a night rest.” Karen added leading Y/N inside their home.

Bobby took off to work while Y/N and Karen stayed inside. She told her all about collage and how her dad, Karen’s brother reacted to her decision of leaving school. Ever since her mom died, he wanted nothing more than to see his girl succeed in everything she did.

In the meantime, Bobby arrived in the shop.

Bobby unlocked the door to his small car repair shop, the familiar scent of oil and metal greeting him as he stepped inside, he saw Dean was already hard at work, his sleeves rolled up and grease smudged across his cheek.

"Morning, Bobby," Dean greeted with a nod, his hands still busy under the hood of a car.

"Morning, son." Bobby replied with a tired smile. "You're early today.”

“Well, we've got a backlog of cars waiting to be fixed." Dean nodded towards the cars parked outside the shop. “I thought I get a head start, besides it’s you that’s late today, boss.” He smiled.

Bobby paused for a moment, hesitating before he spoke. "Listen, Dean, I know times have been tough lately, that you could use the money. But business hasn't been as good. I can only afford to pay you for six hours a day."

Dean's expression remained unchanged, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I know, Bobby. I'll make sure to get as much done as I can in those six hours."

Bobby nodded, grateful for Dean's understanding. He knew that times had been hard for both of them, but Dean had always been a loyal and dedicated employee, willing to go above and beyond to keep the shop running smoothly. And since he had no kids of his own, he always pictured handing over the business to Dean one day.

As the day wore on, Bobby and Dean worked side by side, their hands moving with practiced precision as they tackled one car after another. Bobby wiped his hands on a rag, glancing over at Dean with a grin. "Hey, eh, almost forgot, I got some news. We've got some extra help coming in tomorrow."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "Extra help? But you just said you can only pay me for six hours today. How are we affording more help?" Bobby chuckled, understanding Dean's confusion. "Don't worry, kid. It's family."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "Family? Who's coming in to help?"

Bobby's grin widened as he leaned against the workbench. "Remember Y/N, my niece? I told you about her before. She’s here for a few months and decided to swing by for a while.

Figured she could lend a hand around here."

Dean's confusion turned to curiosity. "Y/N, huh? And she is going to work on the cars?” “Jup, and paperwork.” Bobby looked at the young man.

“ Is she any good with cars?" Bobby chuckled heartily at Dean's question. "She better be, I taught her everything she knows!"

The crisp morning air greeted Y/N as she stepped out of her aunt and uncle's house, the promise of a new day ahead. She decided to take a walk through downtown Sioux Falls, eager to explore her surroundings and clear her mind before diving into her new role at the car repair shop.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn't notice the black Chevy Impala barrelling down the street until it was almost too late. With a gasp, she leaped back just in time to avoid being hit, her heart pounding in her chest as the car screeched to a halt inches away from her.

The driver's side door swung open, revealing with a furrowed brow and a look of irritation on his face. "Hey, watch where you're going!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

Y/N's initial shock turned to anger as she glared at the young man. "Me? Watch where I'm going? You're the one driving like a maniac!" His jaw clenched as he stepped out of the car, his own frustration rising. "I wasn't driving like a maniac! You just stepped out into the street without looking!"

He climbed back in the car mumbling “Bitch.” and then took off wheels burning hot.

“JERK!” She yelled after him.

Y/N walked into the shop, her footsteps echoing in the empty space as she glanced around, taking in the familiar sight of the garage. She hadn't been back here since she was a kid. She noticed Dean and Bobby talking.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, turning to his boss. "Where's that niece of yours?”

Bobby chuckled, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Speaking of the devil..."

Y/N approached, her brow furrowing in confusion as she caught the tail end of their conversation. "Uncle.” she kissed his cheek, Dean turned to her, a boyish smile on his face. "Well, well, well, look who decided to show up. You must be Bobby's niece."

Y/N's eyes widened in realization as she finally connected the dots. "Wait, you're the guy from this morning! The one who almost ran me over!" Dean winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly looking at Bobby. "Yeah, sorry about that. Sweetheart."

Bobby chuckled, stepping in to diffuse the tension. "Well, good that you two have met properly, let's get down to business. Y/N, this is Dean, my star mechanic. Dean, this is my niece, Y/N."

Dean, ever the charmer, flashed her a grin and leaned in slightly. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Looks like this shop just got a whole lot more interesting." While Y/N rolled her eyes Bobby interfered, "Watch yourself, Casanova, she is still my family.”

Dean laughed, shrugging nonchalantly walking back to the car he was working on. "Hey, can't blame a guy for trying."

She turned to her uncle Bobby. "Is he always like this?"

Bobby shook his head. "Oh, you bet. Dean has always had a weakness for the ladies. But don't let that fool you. When it comes to his work, he's as loyal as they come." Y/N nodded, eyes still on Dean’s back. "Well, I guess as long as he gets the job done.”

Bobby looks at her with a weird looking face.

Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly as she realized the unintended implication of her words. She quickly clarified, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "Oh, uh, I meant the cars, Uncle. I meant as long as he gets the job done with fixing the cars."

Bobby chuckled, understanding dawning in his eyes as he nodded. "Gotcha.”

“Well, kids I got to go, I have an appointment with the bank, don’t burn the place down while I’m gone, ok.”

The shop fell into a brief silence. Y/N focused on her task, the rhythmic clinking of tools filling the air as she worked on a particularly stubborn engine. Unbeknownst to her, Dean approached stealthily from behind, his curiosity getting the better of him.

With a mischievous grin, he leaned in close, startling Y/N as he spoke up suddenly.

“Need a hand sweety?” Y/N jumped at the unexpected interruption, whirling around to face Dean with wide eyes. "Dean! Don't sneak up on me like that," she scolded, her heart still racing from the surprise.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender, a playful smirk on his lips. “Seriously need a hand?” Her eyes narrowed “No thanks, I got it,” she said before turning back to the car.

“So, what's your story? Why are you here?" He asked checking her out, whipping his hands on a rag. Y/N hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by Dean's sudden interrogation. She met his gaze, she saw genuine curiosity and warmth in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she decided to open up.

"Well, I just... needed a change of scenery," she admitted, her voice softening with vulnerability. "Uncle Bobby and Aunt Karen offered for me to stay here for a while, and Bobby mentioned he could use an extra pair of hands at the shop. So, here I am."

“Here you are.” he echoed flirty. "Well, I'm glad you're here. We could use all the help we can get around here, and it doesn’t hurt a change of... scenery." he said with a grin, reaching out to give her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

The days turned into weeks.

Their work in the shop came to an end, Dean turned to Y/N. "So, Y/N, any plans for after work?" Y/N shrugged. "Not really. Just planning on heading home and relaxing."

Dean's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned against a nearby workbench. "Well, how about I change those plans? How about a little tour of the town? I'll show you all the best spots."

Y/N hesitated, caught off guard by the invitation.” Thanks, but I think I'll pass. Good night, Dean.”

Y/N sat at the dinner table, her mind still buzzing from the events of the day at the shop. The clang of tools, the smell of grease, it was all still fresh in her mind as she tried to unwind in the comfort of her aunt and uncle's home.

So, when Dean showed up at the door after work, she was taken aback. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon, especially not at her aunt and uncle's house.

Karen, ever the gracious host, welcomed Dean with open arms, "Dean, darling, I’m so glad you could come! Come, come, sit down. Have a beer. Dinner will be ready in just a moment."

Y/N watched in disbelief as Dean settled into a seat at the table, his easy smile making him seem right at home. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Dean's sudden appearance at dinner than met the eye.

Turning to Bobby with a quizzical expression, she voiced her suspicions.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being set up?" she asked, her tone a mixture of amusement and apprehension. Bobby chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye as he exchanged a glance with his wife Karen. "Well, you're not wrong, kiddo," he admitted, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

"Karen thought it might be nice for you to have some friends your own age around here." Y/N's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she glanced over at Karen, who was beaming at her with motherly affection.

Karen nodded, her smile widening. Y/N watched as Karen offered Dean a slice of pie with a warm smile, her heart softening at the sight of their easy rapport. Dean's eyes widened in delight at the mention of pie, unable to resist Karen's irresistible offer.

"How can I say no to that?" he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly accepted the slice. As Y/N observed the exchange between Dean and Karen, turning to her uncle Bobby with a sigh, she couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "You know, I don't like Dean that much right?”

Bobby nodded in understanding, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "I figured as much," he replied gently. "But you know Karen, once she sets her mind to something, there's no stopping her."

As the dinner plates were cleared away, Y/N and Dean offered to help with the dishes, but Karen waved them off with a smile.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, dears. You two go have some fun," Karen insisted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Dean, why don't you take Y/N into town? Show her around a bit. You can't spend all your time cooped up in the shop, after all."

Dean's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan, Karen.” “Aunty, I-I don’t know I’m pretty tired. ”Y/N tries to back away. But Karen couldn't resist the opportunity to play matchmaker. "You know, Dean drives a '67 Chevy Impala,"

Y/N’s chuckles, “I know, I’ve seen it up close.” referring to the almost accident. "And did you know, Dean, that Y/N has a thing for classic cars?" Karen continued. Dean's eyes widened in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. "Is that so? Well, then, I guess we'll have plenty to talk about on the drive into town." He held the back door open.

Y/N sighed softly as she slipped on her leather jacket, a faint sense of reluctance tugging at her. "You know, we really don't need to go," she murmured, glancing at Dean. "You can drop me off at a bar and go home if you want to."

But Dean shook his head with a reassuring smile. "Na-ah, come on. I know just the place for us to go," he said, his tone confident as he gestured for her to follow him outside.

As Dean pulled up to the roadhouse, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the bikes and cars parked outside. She couldn't help but feel a surge of relief that Dean hadn't taken her to a fancy place, especially since she was dressed in jeans and an old shirt.

"Nice choice," she remarked, a hint of appreciation in her voice as she glanced at Dean. Who grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I figured you might appreciate something a little more laid-back."

Y/N smiled, grateful for Dean's consideration as they made their way inside. The atmosphere was lively and inviting, the sound of laughter and music filling the air as they found a table near the bar.

Ellen, stood behind the bar with a knowing smile. Her eyes flickered with amusement as she took in Dean's presence, yet another girl by his side. However, she didn't say much, merely offering a friendly nod before moving on to tend to other customers.

Dean excused himself to buy the first round of drinks, leaving Y/N alone for a moment. From across the room, she observed how he greeted Ellen with familiarity, a warm smile spreading across his face as they exchanged a few words. It was clear to Y/N that Dean was a regular here.

As Dean returned to the table with their beers in hand, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity about his life outside of the shop. There was more to Dean than met the eye, she realized, and she found herself eager to learn more about the man behind the charming exterior.

As Y/N and Dean raised their glasses in a toast, the cheerful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Jo, Ellen's daughter. Y/N couldn't help but notice the tense expression on Jo's face as she approached their table, her jealousy palpable in the air.

"Hey, Dean," Jo began, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "Who's this?" Her eyes flickered over to Y/N, assessing her with thinly veiled suspicion.

Y/N felt a flush of discomfort creep up her neck as she met Jo's gaze, unsure of how to respond to the sudden interrogation. "Uh, hi. I'm Y/N," she introduced herself tentatively, trying to keep her voice steady despite the unexpected confrontation.

But before she could say anything else, Jo's jealousy seemed to spill over, her words tumbling out in a rush. "You're the fourth girl this week," she accused, her tone sharp with resentment. "After Stacy, Annie, and Stephanie. What's so special about you Dean?"

“I don’t know sweetheart, go ask your diary.” He smiles before taking a sip. As Jo walked away, her upset demeanour leaving a palpable tension in the air, "Is she... an ex-girlfriend?" Y/N inquired softly, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Dean's eyes widened in shock at the suggestion, a surprised chuckle escaping him. "What? No, definitely not," he replied hastily, shaking his head vehemently. "She's way too young for my liking. She’s still in high school."

She hadn't expected Jo to be so young, and the realization only deepened her sympathy for the girl caught up in her feelings for Dean. "Oh," was all Y/N could manage to say.

As the evening wore on and a few more beers were consumed, Y/N couldn't help but notice Dean's easy charm seemed to intensify, his jokes becoming more playful and his smiles more frequent. It was clear that the alcohol was loosening his inhibitions, and Y/N found herself the target of his flirtatious banter.

Dean leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he spoke. "You know, Y/N, I have to say, you're even more beautiful than I realized."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his boldness, feeling a flush of warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Smooth talker, aren't you?" Dean grinned, a twinkle in his eye. "Only when I'm around someone as captivating as you."

Y/N couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in her chest at Dean's words. There was something undeniably charming about him, something that drew her in despite her best efforts to resist.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at Dean's persistence, shaking her head with a teasing smile. "You know, Dean, as charming as you are, you still won't stand a chance with me."

Dean raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, really? And why is that?" Y/N leaned back in her seat, her expression mock-serious. "Because I have impossibly high standards," she replied with a wink. "And I'm not about to settle for just anyone."

Dean's grin widened at her response, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Fair enough. But wait, if you're so picky, then where's your boyfriend?"

Y/N's smile faltered slightly at the mention of a boyfriend, her mind racing to come up with a response. "Uh, well, you see... I don't actually have one," she admitted sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I guess I just haven't found the right guy yet."

Dean's expression softened as he reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You're a catch, Y/N. Any guy would be lucky to have you." They locked eyes, feeling a moment of quiet intimacy.

As Dean's hand gently enveloped hers, a rush of warmth surged through Y/N's veins, sending a flurry of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She couldn't help but be acutely aware of the contact, the sensation of his skin against hers sending shivers down her spine.

Feeling a sudden need to break the intimate connection between them, Y/N gently withdrew her hand from Dean's, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as she did so. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to focus on something else, anything else, to distract from the moment they had shared.

"So, Dean," she began, her voice slightly more subdued than before, "how many girlfriends have you had, anyway?" Dean blinked in surprise at the sudden change in topic, his expression momentarily caught off guard. "Uh, well, not as many as you might think," he replied, his tone casual as he tried to play it off.

"Jo was just... just joking that's all." He took another nervous sip of his beer. "I see," she murmured, her voice carefully neutral. "Well, I suppose we've all had our fair share of... acquaintances."

Dean’s eyes grew wide. “So, you’re saying...” She waited for him to continue.” I mean, you’re into one nights and stuff?” She laughs soft, “Don’t tell me you’re not? I mean...” Leaning in slightly, she met his gaze with a teasing twinkle of her own.

"Well, I suppose I'm just wondering how a smooth-talking Casanova like yourself manages to stay single for so long... " Dean chuckled, a roguish grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer. "Ah, but maybe I've just been waiting for the right person to come along," he countered, his voice low and conspiratorial.

In that moment, as he watched her, Dean's thoughts raced a mile a minute. He couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards Y/N, the way her laughter made his heart race and his pulse quicken. She was like a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane existence, and he couldn't help but be drawn to her magnetic energy.

As Dean moved to close the tap, Ellen's voice cut through the buzz of conversation in the roadhouse. "Dean," she called out, her tone warm and affectionate, "she's a keeper, you know."

Dean paused mid-motion, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks at Ellen's words. He waved her comment away with a sheepish grin, trying to play it cool. "Ah, come on, Ellen. You know me, I don’t do relationships" he replied casually, though his heart was pounding in his chest.

But Ellen wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a knowing smile, she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've been running this roadhouse for a long time, Dean. And I've never seen you so invested in a date you brought in here."

Thanks, Ellen," he murmured, his voice genuine as he met her gaze while placing the money on the bar. she replied with a wink. "Just don't let her slip away, alright?"

As Dean opened the door for her, Y/N couldn't help but offer a playful remark about his gentlemanly behaviour. "Well, aren't you just the epitome of chivalry," she teased, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she climbed into the car.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence between them. Dean stole glances at Y/N whenever he thought she wasn't looking, his heart skipping a beat each time the streetlights illuminated her features.

There was something undeniably captivating about the way the light danced across her face, casting shadows and highlights in all the right places. And as Dean's eyes lingered on Y/N, a surge of arousal coursed through him at the tantalizing idea of the two of them spending the night together in his car.

With a shaky breath, Dean tore his gaze away from Y/N, focusing instead on the road ahead. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander down that path. Bobby would kill him.

But as they pulled up to Y/N's house Dean helped her out of the car, he couldn't shake the lingering sensation of arousal that filled the air between them. Unable to resist the magnetic pull between them any longer, he gently pushed Y/N back against the car, his hands pressing against the metal surface as he leaned in closer.

Y/N gasped softly as she felt herself being pinned between Dean and the Impala, the heat of his body radiating against hers. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement coursing through her veins.

Dean's breath was warm against her skin as he hovered inches away from her, his eyes dark with desire as they locked with hers. There was a raw intensity in his gaze, a silent invitation that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

And as Dean leaned in closer, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers, Y/N couldn't help but lean forward, her own desire mirroring his. Dean’s voice warm and deep as he spoke.

"I really enjoyed your company tonight," he murmured, his words filled with sincerity and longing. "I was hoping... maybe we could do this again sometime.”

"I'd like that," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she met Dean's gaze his lips brushed against hers, a jolt of electricity shot through Y/N, sending shivers down her spine. It was a gentle touch, tentative yet filled with a simmering intensity that left no room for doubt, this was no longer innocent flirting.

“Bobby has probably heard the engine a few minutes ago.” Dean whispers before giving her space. With one last lingering glance, Y/N reluctantly stepped away from Dean.

“You’re right, see you tomorrow?” She asks while passing him by. "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetheart" he called out after her, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and anticipation.

Dean turned back towards the Impala, a flicker of excitement stirring in his chest.

Dean opened the shop as usual, but he saw Y/N standing in the shop, lights turned low. A few soft lights illuminating her figure. But it wasn't just any ordinary scene. He heard the soft rock music playing in the background.

... I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life...

Y/N was clad in lace lingerie, the delicate fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places, accentuating every contour of her body. Her hair cascaded in loose waves down her back.

... I've been waiting for a girl like you, you're a love that will survive...

Her hands deftly manoeuvring under the hood of his car. But it wasn't the car that captured Dean's attention, it was the way Y/N moved, the way her body swayed with each graceful motion, a mesmerizing dance of strength and beauty.

... I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive...

As Dean watched, his pulse quickened and his breath caught in his throat, a surge of desire coursing through him at the sight of Y/N in her lace lingerie, her skin bathed in the warm glow of the workshop lights. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

... Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life...

Y/N noticed Dean's intense gaze, a sly smile played on her lips. With a confident sway of her hips, she closed the hood of the impala then perched herself on top of it, her legs dangling over the edge as she leaned back against the warm metal.

"Come closer, Dean," she purred, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Her eyes danced with mischief as she beckoned him with a curl of her finger, a silent invitation for him to join her.

Unable to resist her allure, Dean took a hesitant step forward, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of Y/N before him. She was a vision of temptation, her lace lingerie leaving little to the imagination as it clung to her curves.

As he drew nearer, Y/N reached out to him, her fingers trailing teasingly along his chest before coming to rest on his shoulders. With a gentle tug, she pulled him closer until he stood directly before her, their bodies almost touching, the heat of their proximity igniting a fire within them both.

As Dean's hands moved over Y/N's thighs, a shiver of anticipation ran down his spine. With a soft moan escaping her lips, Y/N parted her legs slightly, inviting Dean to stand in between them.

Dean stepped in between her legs, Y/N felt a surge of desire building within her, a primal need to be closer to him, to feel his body pressed against hers, his touch was intoxicating, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against her skin as he drew closer, the heat of his body radiating against hers.

With a longing sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. As Dean felt Y/N's legs closing around his hips, a surge of desire swept through him, his heart pounding with the intensity of their connection. With a low growl of longing, he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue pressing eagerly against hers as they melted into each other's embrace.

But just as their passion reached a peak, Dean was suddenly jolted awake by his alarm, his eyes flying open as he gasped for breath. Blinking in confusion, he found himself lying in bed, the remnants of his dream still swirling through his mind like wisps of smoke.

As the reality of his surroundings sank in, Dean couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the abrupt end to his passionate encounter with Y/N. It had felt so real, so vivid and yet, it had all been nothing more than a dream.

With a sigh, Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the lingering effects of sleep. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to erase the memory of Y/N's touch, the taste of her lips still lingering on his tongue.

As Dean rushed into the garage, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves, he couldn't help but feel a surge of flustered anticipation at the sight of Y/N standing in the same spot as he had dreamed about.

She looked effortlessly cool in her old band shirt and overall knotted around her waist, her hair in a messy bun.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Dean blurted out, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he tried to regain his composure. "I... uh, overslept." “Overslept, huh?" Bobby teased “Is that the name of girl that kept you awake this time.” He rolled his eyes at Y/N.

"Well, lucky for you, I haven't gotten much done yet." She winked at him.

As Dean approached her, he couldn't help but feel a sense of deja vu wash over him, it was almost as if he had stepped straight into his dream from the night before. But instead of feeling nervous or apprehensive, he felt a strange sense of comfort.

With a shaky breath, Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the lingering effects of his dream. "So, uh, what's on the agenda for today?" he asked leaning in against the truck she was working on, eager to distract himself from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

Y/N flashed him a smile, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, first things first – we've got a lot of cars to fix," she replied quiet so Bobby wouldn’t hear her tone flirty. "And then... who knows? Maybe we'll have a little fun along the way."

As Dean's eyes widened at Y/N's playful comment, a surge of excitement coursed through him, his heart racing with anticipation. A sly grin spread across Dean's lips as he met Y/N's gaze, his own eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?" he teased, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

Y/N's smile widened at his response, her laughter echoing through the garage as she winked at him. "You'll just have to wait and see," she replied coyly, her tone filled with tantalizing suggestion.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Dean rolled up his sleeves interrupted by Bobby's voice calling out to him from across the garage. "Dean, stop flirting, there is a phone call for you," Bobby said, his tone curt as he held out the receiver. "It's your mom."

Dean's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his mother, a pang of anxiety gripping him as he took the phone from Bobby. His mind raced with questions and concerns, had something happened? Was everything alright?

With a murmured "Thanks, Bobby," Dean brought the phone to his ear, his stomach churning with apprehension. "Mom?" he said tentatively, his voice tinged with worry.

Y/N glanced at Bobby, a look of concern furrowing her brow, ”Why is he acting so weird answering his mom?” Bobby sighed, his expression somber as he leaned against a nearby workbench.

"Dean's dad, passed away a few years back," he explained, his tone heavy with emotion. "Ever since then, he's been... different. Doesn't talk much about it, but I know he nearly never visits her or his brother.”

Y/N's heart sank at Bobby's words, a pang of sadness washing over her as she knew what Dean must have been through. Losing a parent was never easy. "I had no idea," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked back at Dean, who was focused intently on his work.

After another day of working Bobby asked Dean to come to dinner, just like had done almost every night.

As Y/N passed by the doorway, she couldn't help but overhear the hushed conversation between Dean and Bobby. Their voices carried through the air, tinged with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

"What did Mary want?" Bobby asked, "she, uh, she wanted to tell me that Sammy, eh, he's graduated from law school," he explained, his voice soft. "She wants me home for a surprise dinner next week."

Bobby's eyes widened in surprise at the news, a smile spreading across his face. "Well, that's great news!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I bet your mom's thrilled."

Dean nodded, a hint of emotion flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, she's really excited," he admitted, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It's been a while since we've all been together."

“But I told her I could come. I’m not in the mood.” Bobby frowned, his brow furrowing with concern as he looked at Dean. "Are you sure about that, son?" She sees Dean nodding. “I’m the disappointment of the family. All they will do is tell me how great Sammy turned out with Jess and his degree and how poorly I did.”

With a heavy heart Y/N turned back to the kitchen. ”I’ll take over aunty.” she said grabbing the dishes. A little later Dean moved beside her. “Let me help”, while taking the towel.

As Y/N and Dean stood side by side, washing the dishes a comfortable silence enveloped them. Y/N glanced over at Dean, a small smile playing on her lips as she appreciated his help.

Meanwhile, Karen and Bobby sat on the couch, "I see the two of them blooming," Karen said, her voice filled with warmth and affection. Bobby shook his head. "I'm not so sure," he replied, his tone cautious. "Y/N's a good kid, but I'm not convinced she's into Dean like that."

"No, no, he is growing on her, I can tell," Karen said, her voice filled with conviction. Bobby raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Karen's observation. "And why do you think that?" he asked.

Karen leaned back against the couch, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, for one thing, they aren't fighting," she explained, her voice thoughtful. "And the way he moves around her... there's something different about it."

"You're right, they aren't fighting anymore like they used to," he conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of agreement. "But I still don't see any romance between them."

Just as Bobby and Karen looked away, the sound of Y/N’s voice filled the room, “DEAN!!”. drawing their attention back to them. Seeing how he splashed her with water.

They watched in amusement as the playful banter, they playfully sparred with each other. Dean swung a dish towel in Y/N's direction, earning a playful squeal from her as she dodged his attack. In retaliation, Y/N reached for a nearby dishcloth and flicked it in Dean's direction, causing him to grin mischievously as he deftly avoided the incoming splash.

Karen gave Bobby an all-knowing look. “Told you.” she said before leaning back.

As Y/N walked Dean outside to his car, she couldn't shake the conversation he had with Bobby earlier. But as they reached Dean's car and he leaned against it, pulling her in closer. Y/N felt a surge of surprise wash over her. It was rare for Dean to hold her this close without a few drinks in him, and the unexpected intimacy caught her off guard.

"Dean..." Y/N began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words to say. But before she could speak, Dean leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"You know... It’s been a while since we spend time together outside of work or here at bobby’s.” He started. Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest.

With a playful grin, Y/N teased him, "Are you asking me out on an official date, Dean?"

Dean's response caught her off guard, his words laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugged at her heartstrings. "What if I am?" he replied, his gaze steady as he met her eyes.

As Y/N asked Dean where they were going, suggesting the roadhouse, Dean's eyes sparkled with mischief as he considered her suggestion. With a gentle smile, he shook his head.

"Nah, you deserve something more than that, sweetheart." he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Something fancy, something romantic with candlelight." A soft smile graced her lips as she met Dean's gaze, her eyes shining with appreciation. "That sounds absolutely lovely," she murmured.

Dean brushed a hair out of her face. “How’s Saturday?” With a warm smile, she nodded eagerly. "Saturday sounds perfect," she replied, her voice filled with excitement. "I can't wait." Dean's eyes lit up with a smile of his own, mirroring her enthusiasm as they shared a moment of shared anticipation.

With Saturday on the horizon.

As Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of her red cocktail dress and slipping on her high heels, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest. Tonight was the night, the fancy, romantic evening out with Dean that she had been eagerly anticipating.

Just as she was about to finish getting ready, Y/N heard Karen's voice behind her, filled with warmth and affection. "Need some help with your hair, dear?" Karen asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N turned to see Karen standing there with a brush and a handful of bobby pins, a knowing smile on her lips. With a grateful nod, Y/N settled into the chair, allowing Karen to work her magic on her hair.

As Karen deftly pinned Y/N's hair up into an elegant style, she couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over her. Karen had always been like a second mother to her, and she cherished these moments.

"You know, Dean is talking to Bobby right now," Karen said casually, her tone filled with amusement. "Bobby's giving him 'the talk,' like he's your father or something."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief at Karen's revelation, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the thought of Bobby giving Dean advice about relationships.

She couldn't help but feel a mixture of amusement and mortification at that thought.

"You know, Dean is a good boy," Karen said, her voice filled with warmth. "Sure, he's had his flirtatious moments, and he's had a few girlfriends, but he seems to change."

Y/N listened intently to Karen's words, her heart swelling with gratitude for the older woman's wisdom and insight. Despite any reservations she may have had about Dean's past, Karen's reassurances helped to ease her mind and set her at ease.

"Thank you, Karen," Y/N said softly, her voice tinged with appreciation. "I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot."

Karen smiled warmly at Y/N's words, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course, dear," she replied, her tone gentle. "Just remember, sometimes people surprise us in the best ways. And I have a feeling Dean might just be one of those people."

As Y/N descended the stairs, her heart pounding with excitement, she couldn't help but notice the way Dean and Bobby's eyes widened in awe as they caught sight of her. It was as if she had stepped straight out of a scene from a 90s teen movie.

All eyes on her as she made her grand entrance. Dean's jaw dropped slightly, his gaze lingering on her figure as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Bobby's expression mirrored Dean's.

Dean found his voice, his words coming out in a soft whisper. "Wow," he breathed, his eyes shining with appreciation. "You look amazing, Y/N." Y/N felt her cheeks flush with warmth at Dean's compliment, a smile spreading across her lips.

Y/N nodded eagerly as Dean asked if she was ready. Taking her hand in his, Dean led her out to his car, the anticipation of the evening ahead filling the air with a palpable energy.

Y/N's eyes widened with delight as she took in the cozy ambiance and the soothing strains of jazz music drifting through the air. The scent of delicious tapas filled her senses, making her mouth water with anticipation.

As they settled into their seats, the warm glow of candlelight casting a soft halo around them, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance to share this special moment with Dean. With each passing moment, she felt her bond with him growing stronger, deepening their connection in ways she never thought possible.

As Dean took Y/N's hand in his, a thrill shot through her at the touch of his warm skin against hers. His gentle caress sent shivers down her spine “You look really beautiful tonight.”

“So do you handsome.” she smiles.

With a furrowed brow, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as she turned to Dean, her voice gentle as she asked why he didn't want to go home. But Dean's response was guarded, his eyes clouded with a hint of sadness as he shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt a surge of empathy wash over her as she looked at Dean, recognizing the pain that lurked behind his words. She knew better than to press him for answers, understanding that some wounds ran too deep to be easily healed.

Instead, she gently squeezed his hand, offering him a silent gesture of support and understanding. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of the jazz bar and the soft strains of music drifting through the air.

As Y/N observed Dean she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't his usual scene. Sensing his discomfort, she gently suggested, "Hey, do you want to go somewhere else?" Dean looked up at her, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds good," he replied, his with gratitude.

They arrived at the roadhouse, the sight of the familiar building bringing a sense of warmth to Y/N's heart. As they stepped inside, the cozy ambiance and the welcoming smile of Ellen greeted them.

As Dean made his way to the bar after ensuring Y/N was comfortably seated at their table, he couldn't help but notice the warm smile that lit up Ellen's face as she greeted him.

Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she took in Y/N's appearance, She looks amazing." "She does, doesn't she?" Dean replied, a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke of Y/N. Ellen nodded in agreement, her smile widening as she poured him a drink.

As the evening progressed and the drinks flowed, Y/N and Dean found themselves growing increasingly relaxed in each other's company. Y/N felt a playful impulse take hold of her. With a mischievous grin, she slipped off one of her heels, her bare foot finding its way to rest against Dean's leg.

Dean looked down at her foot with a smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement as he felt the soft pressure of her foot against his knee. Without missing a beat, he reached down and gently ran his fingers along the curve of her ankle, his touch sending a shiver of delight coursing through her.

Feeling Dean's gentle fingers as he began to massage her foot, Y/N couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure, her eyes fluttering, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through her veins.

The sensation of his touch against her skin sent shivers of delight dancing along her spine, igniting a fire of desire deep within her. Biting her lip to stifle a moan, Y/N felt her heart race with anticipation.

As Jo approached their table to say hello, Dean quickly withdrew his hands, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features as he shifted his focus to their unexpected guest. With a polite smile, he exchanged pleasantries with Jo, his attention momentarily diverted from Y/N.

But as Jo made her exit and Dean returned his gaze to Y/N, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement rush through him at the sight of her foot inching further up his thigh. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt the undeniable bulge growing in his pants, a silent testament to the effect she had on him.

Dean couldn't suppress a subtle gasp of arousal, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced over at Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. In that moment, the air between them crackled with tension, thick with unspoken longing and desire.

As Dean rose from their table to pay the tab, he couldn't ignore the undeniable bulge in his pants, a clear indication of the desire that burned fiercely within him. With a subtle shift, he attempted to discreetly reposition himself.

Leaning in close to Y/N as he whispered softly in her ear, his voice low and husky with longing. His breath warm against her skin. "I want you so much. I don't think I can wait until we get home."

Y/N got up and reached out to him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him close, her lips finding his in a fierce, passionate kiss. “Then let’s get out of here.”

On their way home.

As Y/N's hands roamed eagerly over Dean's thighs, tracing the outline of his bulge through his pants, Dean couldn't help but let out a low groan of pleasure. Her touch sent electric jolts of desire coursing through him.

Feeling her lips press against his neck in a trail of soft, lingering kisses, Dean felt his control slipping away turning the wheel and placing the car on the side of the road before he surrendered himself to the intoxicating sensation of her touch.

With a gasp of pleasure, he leaned into her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips seeking out hers in a fierce, hungry kiss. Their passion reached a fever pitch as Dean's hand slipped beneath the hem of Y/N's dress, his fingers trailing along the soft curve of her thigh before moving higher, teasing her.

As Dean's fingers traced the delicate lace between Y/N's legs, a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine, her breath catching in her throat at the electrifying touch. Dean's mind wandered back to his dream, the memory fuelling the fire of his passion as he hovered above her in the backseat of the car.

With each caress, he felt the heat building between them, the intensity of their desire reaching new heights with every touch. Y/N's soft moans filled the air, driving him wild with longing.

As Y/N's desperate pleas filled the air, Dean felt a surge of primal desire coursing through him, igniting a fire of passion that burned hotter with each passing moment. With a hungry growl, he gave in to the intoxicating allure of her pleas, his fingers finding their way to the source of her desire.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Dean's fingers entered Y/N, plunging deep into her depths as she arched beneath him, as Y/N's cries of pleasure filled the air, Dean felt a surge of triumph wash over him, knowing that he was the one who had brought her to such heights of ecstasy.

With each thrust of his fingers, he drove her closer and closer to the edge, until she was teetering on the brink of release, her body trembling with anticipation. After her high she pushed Dean back.

And skilfully unzipped his pants, a rush of excitement coursed through him at the unexpected turn of events. He watched in stunned silence as she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around him with a tantalizing warmth that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins.

Caught off guard by the intensity of sensation, Dean couldn't help but let out a low groan of pleasure as Y/N's tongue worked its magic on him, his head falling back. With each stroke, she drove him wild, her tongue working wonders as she took him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, Dean reached out to caress Y/N's hair, his fingers tangling in the silky strands as he guided her movements with gentle precision. The sensation of her mouth on him was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, sending waves of pleasure crashing over him with every flick of her tongue.

With each passing moment, the intensity of their passion grew, until Dean felt himself teetering on the brink of release, he knew he needed to slow things down before it was too late. With a desperate plea, he asked Y/N to stop, his voice thick with desire as he fought to regain control.

Feeling Y/N's lips reluctantly release him, Dean pulled her onto his lap, their bodies pressed together in a fiery embrace. With a primal growl of need, she began to grind against him.

And then, with a swift movement, Dean guided his dick to her soaking wet core. Feeling her stretching to accommodate him as he entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust. As he filled her completely, they both gasped in unison, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their shared pleasure.

Lost in the throes of passion, Dean and Y/N moved together in perfect harmony, their bodies moving as one as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the moment.

As Dean's lips found their way to Y/N's breast, her breath caught in her throat at the delicious sensation of his mouth on her skin. With a soft moan of pleasure, she arched her back, offering herself to him as he teased her nipple with his tongue.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Dean's hair, urging him closer as she surrendered herself to the intoxicating sensation of his mouth on her skin. With each flick of his tongue, she felt herself growing more and more aroused, her body trembling with desire as he lavished attention on her sensitive flesh.

With a gentle suckle, Dean drew her nipple into his mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins as he suckled and nipped. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and Y/N found herself gasping for breath.

As Dean felt Y/N tightening around him, signalling her release, he knew that he was on the brink of his own climax. With a primal groan of pleasure, he guided her hips, urging her to bounce up and down over his throbbing shaft, with increasing urgency.

And then, with a final, desperate cry, Y/N shattered into a million pieces, her pleasure cascading over her like a tidal wave as she rode the waves of ecstasy to the peak of her pleasure. In that moment, there was no room for anything else there was only the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that consumed them both.

As Dean pulled Y/N close to him, their bodies lying down, entwined in the intimate space of the back seat, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that lingered in the back of his mind. With a heavy sigh, he turned to her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake by not going home for Sam's party?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Y/N gazed at him with a soft, understanding expression, her fingers gently tracing patterns of comfort along his chest. "Dean, only you can answer that," she replied gently. "But if I were you, I would go home.”

After a moment of contemplative silence, "Hey, uh... would you... want to come with me?” Y/N looked at him, her eyes soft with affection as she reached out to gently caress his cheek. "Of course, Dean," she replied with a warm smile. "I'd love to."

As relief flooded over him, Dean felt a weight lift from his shoulders, knowing that he wouldn't have to face his family alone. Dean leaned in to press his lips against Y/N's.

As Dean's nerves prickled at the thought of introducing Y/N to his mother, he felt a surge of uncertainty wash over him. With a deep breath, he reached for his phone, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

As he dialled his mother's number, Dean's mind raced with questions. How would she react? What would she think of Y/N? And most importantly, how should he introduce her?

When his mother answered the phone, Dean hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Hey, Mom," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness. "I, uh... I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me to Sam's party tomorrow."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before his mother replied, her tone curious. "Oh? And who might this be?" Dean swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "Her name is Y/N," he said, his voice steady despite his nerves. "And... she's eh,... my girl." He said looking at Y/N.

“Sure honey, I’m glad you can make it. See you tomorrow.”

Y/N teases him "your girl? Who says I want to be you girl?” Dean couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's playful teasing, her words lightening the tension and bringing a smile to his lips. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he turned to her, his voice filled with humour as he played along with her joke.

"Who said I want you to be my girl?" he replied with a playful smirk, his tone teasing and light-hearted. "Maybe I'm just looking for someone to do my laundry and cook me dinner."

Dean leans in for another breath-taking kiss. Hearing the music in the background.

.... When you love someone,

Yeah, I really love someone,

Now, I know it's right ...

As Dean and Y/N packed a suitcase with a few changes of clothes, they couldn't shake the sense of anticipation that hung in the air. With the possibility of staying over at Mary's house looming in the distance, they wanted to be prepared for anything.

As they climbed into the car and Dean started the engine, Y/N settled into the passenger seat, her bare legs stretched out comfortably on the dashboard. Dean couldn't help but admire the sight, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on her knee as they drove.

Despite the nerves that still lingered in the back of Dean's mind, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. As they neared their destination, Dean couldn't shake the swirling thoughts in his mind. He found himself reflecting on how unexpected it was to find himself falling for someone like Y/N.

She was different from the girls he had imagined himself settling down with but in all the best ways. Despite his growing feelings for her, doubt gnawed at the edges of Dean's mind. Was Y/N truly here because she felt the same way, or was she just along for the ride?

But as he stole a glance at Y/N beside him, her laughter filling the car and her eyes sparkling with mischief, Dean couldn't help but push aside his doubts. There was something undeniably special about her, something that made him feel alive in a way he had never felt before.

As the engine's rumble subsided, Mary, swung open the door with a warm smile spreading across her face. Dean felt a surge of affection as he embraced his mom, her familiar scent enveloping him in a comforting embrace.

"Hey, Mom," Dean greeted her, his voice filled with warmth. "This is Y/N."

Mary's eyes lit up with genuine delight as she turned to Y/N, extending her arms for a welcoming hug. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N," she said warmly. Y/N returned the hug with a smile, feeling the warmth of Mary's embrace. "It's great to meet you too, Mary," she replied sincerely.

Just then, Sam, appeared in the doorway with a teasing grin. "Still driving that old piece of junk?" he quipped. Dean rolled his eyes with a good-natured chuckle, accustomed to Sam's teasing. "Hey, baby may be old, but she's never failed me." he retorted, a hint of pride in his voice.

As Dean greeted Jess with a warm hug, Y/N couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that lingered between the brothers. Despite the playful banter, there was an underlying coldness in their interactions that didn't escape her notice.

Once inside, Y/N's eyes were drawn to the pictures of their dad adorning the walls. She couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between Dean and his father, the same rugged charm and confident smile mirrored in both their faces.

As Y/N's gaze fell upon a picture of Dean, Sam, and their father standing proudly next to the impala. The image captured a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a father and his sons united by their love for each other and their shared passion for the sleek, classic car.

Feeling Y/N's eyes on him, Dean met her gaze with a bittersweet smile, the weight of memories lingering in his expression. Before he could say anything, Mary, sensing the somber atmosphere, approached them with a gentle smile.

"It used to be John's car," she said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "He loved that car, spent countless hours tinkering with it in the garage, making it just right." Y/N smiles “Like father like son.”

As the conversation at the dinner table shifted to Sam's plans as a lawyer and Y/N's previous studies in economics, Dean couldn't shake the feeling of being left out.

He listened quietly as Sam and Y/N exchanged stories and aspirations, feeling a twinge of guilt for not having asked Y/N about her studies or plans for the future himself. Sam seemed to like Y/N. Keep asking his brother where he found her.

And more importantly how he is going to keep her since she is a smart woman looking for a career. In which Dean just smiled like he had a toothache and drank his beer.

As the night moved on a new whirlwind of doubt and insecurity popped up.

Dean observed Sam and Jess's affectionate displays of love, he couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty about his own relationship with Y/N.

Dean couldn't shake the nagging question of whether Y/N wanted the same level of physical affection or if she needed her personal space. Dean gently placed his hand on the back of Y/N's chair, a small loving gesture.

Y/N met his gaze with a soft smile, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Leaning back in her chair, she reached out to place her hand on his knee, her touch sending a wave of comfort and reassurance through him.

“How do you know Bobby, Y/N?” Mary asked. Y/N glanced at Dean, a smile playing at her lips. "Oh, Bobby's actually my uncle," she replied, her tone light and casual. "I've been helping him out at his car repair shop for a while now.”

“Oh that’s nice, finally a woman who can handle his books.” Dean chuckled softly, "Y/N's not just good with paperwork," he interjected, a hint of pride in his voice. "She's a pretty amazing mechanic too."

Mary's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze shifting to Y/N "Is that so?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Y/N nodded, a modest smile on her face. "Yeah, I've picked up a few things from working with Bobby," she explained. "I've always had a knack for fixing things, and he's been a great teacher." Jess chimed in, her eyes alight with interest. "That's incredible," she remarked.

Dean grinned, his pride in Y/N evident as he continued to sing her praises. "She's better with cars than she wants to admit," he admitted with a chuckle, glancing fondly at Y/N.

Sam's question cut through the conversation, his curiosity piqued by Dean's unwavering trust in Y/N's abilities. "Would you trust Baby to her?" he asked. Without hesitation, Dean's answer was swift and resolute. "Absolutely," he declared, his confidence unwavering.

The room fell silent once the woman helped each other in the kitchen. The brothers seemed to have an awkward cold moment together. “Mom seems to like her.” Sam said to break the silence.

“Just mom?” He looked up at his younger brother, holding the beer in his hand. “No, I like her too Dean, I’m just...”

“Just what?” - “I’m just concerned how you two are going to fit together in the future.” Dean got irritated. “What do you mean by that Sammy?” - “She wants to study and build a life. You never talked about a family.”

Dean kept quiet knowing he had the same questions.

As Dean and Y/N retreated to his old bedroom, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her as she took in the surroundings. The room was a testament to Dean's past, filled with posters of classic cars and iconic supermodels like Cindy Crawford and Naomi Campbell.

Strolling around the room, Y/N's fingers trailed over the edges of the posters, a smile playing at her lips as she imagined Dean as a younger man, dreaming of fast cars and glamorous women. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before, a glimpse into his past that made her feel closer to him in a way she hadn't expected.

Turning to Dean, she couldn't help but tease him gently. "Nice taste in posters," she remarked with a playful grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I can see you had some... interesting choices."

Dean chuckled, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks as he looked around the room. "Hey, don't judge," he replied with a smirk. "I was a teenager, what can I say, I liked nice things."

As Y/N moved to close the door, Dean's eyes grew wide. “Eh maybe leave that open.” Y/N noticed his nerves. "Come on, Dean, a little privacy wouldn't hurt," she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Or is there something behind this door?”

Despite his protest, Y/N gently pushed the door closed, the soft click echoing in the room. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, her gaze falling on the posters of Pamela Anderson adorning the door.

Her grin widened as she pointed to the poster. "Aha, jackpot!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her amusement.

Dean's cheeks flushed slightly as he glanced at the poster, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. unable to hide his embarrassment. "Yeah, well, who didn't have a crush on her back then?" he replied, trying to play it off with a nervous chuckle.

Y/N couldn't help but tease him further, a playful glint in her eyes. "Sorry I'm not the Pam type," she teased getting in bed next to him, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Maybe I should start wearing a red swimsuit and running in slow motion."

"Nah, you're way better than Pam," he replied, his eyes softening as he looked at her. Y/N grinned at his words, feeling a warmth spread through her chest.

As Y/N nestled into Dean's arms, his voice broke the silence, his tone tinged with a hint of awkwardness. "It's kinda weird being back in my old room," he confessed, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her back.

Y/N chuckled softly, her breath warm against his chest. "Tell me about it," she replied with a playful grin. "It's not every day I get to stare at Pamela Anderson while lying in bed with my boyfriend."

Dean's lips curled into a playful smirk as he leaned in closer to her. "Well, then, maybe you should focus on me instead," he suggested, his eyes dancing with mischief. Before Y/N could respond, Dean was already moving, his body hovering over hers as he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

The loud squeak of the bed drew a laugh from Y/N, breaking the momentary silence that had settled between them. "How did you do it back in the day, without your parents knowing?" she quipped, her voice filled with amusement.

Dean chuckled, the sound warm and genuine as he shifted his weight on the bed, placing him next to her, pulling her in a hug. "Believe it or not, I never had a girl in this bed," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Really? I find that hard to believe," she teased. He kissed her head, “No I'm serious.” Dean pulled Y/N close, holding her tightly in his arms as they lay together, a silence fell upon them while Y/N’s finger drew circles on his chest.

“Hey, eh you’ve seen my type... what are your exes like?” Y/N hesitated, her expression guarded as she considered how to respond. "They're... different," she finally admitted, her voice soft yet tinged with uncertainty.

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to piece together her answer. "Different how?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Y/N sighed, her gaze drifting away for a moment before she met Dean's eyes once more. "Let me guess, they're... in university or in their dad's business by now, right?." he asked, she searched for the right words to answer.

Dean's heart sank at her silence, a sense of inadequacy washing over him as he realized how different he was from her past partners. "So, they're like Sam," he guessed, his voice tinged with resignation.

Y/N nodded slowly, her expression sympathetic. "In some ways, yes," she admitted, her voice gentle yet filled with empathy. "But that doesn't mean they were right for me."

Dean thought for a second before his voice broke the silence, his words soft and earnest. "I want to tell Bobby about us," he confessed, his tone tinged with uncertainty. She gazed up at Dean, searching his eyes for an answer, her heart aching with the knowledge that their time together was limited. “Dean... why, I mean are you sure?”

His eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from Y/N's face. "I don't want to hide it anymore" he replied, his voice gentle yet resolute. "I want the world to know how much you mean to me. That it’s not just a fling.”

"But... what when I leave?" she asked, her eyes searching his for reassurance.

A wave of sadness washing over him as he struggled to find the right words to say. "You don't have to leave," he blurted out, his voice raw with emotion. "We could take over Bobby's shop together. We could build a future here, together."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, her heart aching with the enormity of the decision before her. "But.. I want to study, I want my degree." she whispered,” That was always the plan, you know that... right?”

A pang of hurt coursing through him as he realized that their dreams might not align as perfectly as he had hoped. "I understand," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I thought that maybe you felt the same way I do."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as she reached out to cup his cheek, her touch gentle yet filled with love. "I do feel the same way, Dean," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "But we have to be realistic. We both have dreams, and we can't let them go."

"Don't you think we could make it work, I could wait for you?" He continued, afraid she sees him as a plaything for a while, afraid his reputation necked him. "I don't want to hold you back, Dean," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t want you to wait for me for another year or two. Who knows who you meet.”

“Or who you meet.” he echoed.

Y/N's heart ached as she watched the pain flicker in Dean's eyes, his expression clouded with a mixture of sadness and insecurity. She could sense his turmoil, his desire to retreat into himself and shield his heart from further hurt.

“Goodnight sweetheart” he kisses her soft before turning his back to her.

Without hesitation, she reached out to him, wrapping her arms around him, her cheek to his shoulder, in a tender embrace. "Dean," she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. "No man has ever made me feel as safe and loved as you do."

She places a soft kiss on his shoulder, feeling she needs to make sure he knows she isn’t playing around. “Why don’t we start with telling Bobby. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Y/N feels his hand caressing her thigh. Feeling how he eased up.

“Dean! Dean wake up!”

Dean's eyes snapped open, his heart racing as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. He blinked in confusion, his mind still foggy from sleep as he tried to piece together what was happening.

"S-Sam?" he stammered, his voice hoarse as he looked around the dimly lit room.

Sam stood before him, his expression unreadable as he approached Dean cautiously. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Dean's pulse quickened as he realized that something was terribly wrong. Memories of Y/N's embrace and their tender conversation flooded his mind, but as he looked around the unfamiliar room. “What happened?”

“A djinn.” Sam answered, "We need to get you out of here," he said, his voice urgent as he began to untie the ropes that bound Dean to the chair. Moving from Dean to the chair next to him.

His stomach churned, his heart skipped a beat as he looked at the girl sitting beside him, her presence filling him with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

It couldn't be possible, could it?

"Y/N?" he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he searched her face for any sign of recognition.

The girl's eyes still closed, “Hey, hey ,wake up.” Dean took over from Sam, kneeling before her, San know stood confused behind his brother.

Her eyes slowly open. "D-Dean?" she breathed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

A sense of relief washed over Dean as she recognised him. Despite the impossibility of the situation, he couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of joy that flooded through him at the sight of her.

“Let’s take you home, sweetheart.“ Dean and Sam drove Y/N home. She offers them a shower.

After his refreshment, Sam drove on to fetch some food, leaving Dean and Y/N alone in the quiet of her home, a palpable tension hung in the air between them. Dean shifted uncomfortably, his mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions as he tried to find the right words to say.

He waited by the window in the living room, looking outside, waiting for her to bring him some fresh clothes. “These are eh, well my exes. But I think they might fit you. The bathroom is down the hall.”

She hands him the clothing. Their hands touch.

Y/N glanced at him, her expression softening with concern as she took in his features. "Are you okay?" he asked, "I... I don't know," she admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Dean nodded, his grip tightening on the fabric.

“Everything felt so... real. And then I woke up, and it's like none of it ever happened." Y/N pinched her nose. Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching Y/N's face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. "Hey, uh, can I ask you something?" he began.

Y/N nodded, Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself for her response. "What did the djinn show you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze searching his face for any hint of deceit. "Why do you want to know?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he debated whether or not to reveal his own experience to her.

Shrugging his shoulders.

"I... I was back in college, working over the summer with my uncle," she began, her voice trembling slightly with apprehension. Dean nodded, his expression thoughtful as he listened intently to her words. "That sounds like a good gig," he commented.

A soft smile appears on her face while she thought about it, "Yeah, it was," she replied, her voice soft yet filled with emotion. The silence stretched between them, thick with tension as Y/N braced herself.

Dean took a step closer, cleared his throat, "Uh, did your uncle have a car repair shop?" he asked, his voice casual yet tinged with curiosity. Y/N's eyes grew wide in surprise at his question.

"Yeah, he did," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Dean’s heart made a jump realising they had the same dream. He flashed a mischievous grin as he leaned in closer to Y/N, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"So, did your uncle had a handsome mechanic working for him?" he teased. Her eyes sparkling with amusement as she shook her head. "Annoying, definitely, handsome.... maybe," she replied, her tone light and teasing.

Dean chuckled at her response, his grin widening as he leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for him, there was a pretty great niece to keep him company." Y/N smiled at his words, her heart fluttering with warmth as she met his gaze. "Yeah, I guess she's pretty lucky too."

Dean made his way to the bathroom

As the brothers were ready to leave Y/N stood at the door. “Well promise me you take care of yourself and her.” She nodded to the impala. Dean smiled soft, “same for you sweetheart.”

He turned his back to walk away with a heavy heart.

His hand on the car door.

“Dean?” He looked up. “I know it wasn’t real... But for what it’s worth... I meant it every word I said to you.” He smiled and nodded slowly.

Dean turned on the engine, the radio started playing music.

... You're so good

When we make love it's understood

It's more than a touch or a word we'd say...

“What was that about?” Sam asked. “What, eh, nothing.” Dean looked straight out on the road.

...Only in dreams could it be this way...

-----------

Song lyrics : Foreigner - Waiting for a girl like you

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bea-ce · 1 year

Text

If only I could make you believe you deserve everything

pairing: kaveh x reader (can be read platonically or romantically)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: life is awful at times. very much so that you end up falling back to bad habits to get you through it. luckily, you have kaveh to help you guide back to the right track.

word count: 4.2k

notes: hii!! first post! (and its hurt/comfort RAHHHH) kaveh might be a little ooc as i havent gotten to him in the archon quest yet, so i apologize for that in advance! i poured my heart and soul and my own personal experiences into this,, i apologize if the comfort is a lil wonky.

title is inspired by Nicole Dollanganger’s song “Please Eat”.

trigger warning(s): mentions of ed/having an ed, descriptive experience of having an ed, mentions of relapsing into unhealthy coping mechanisms, self inflicted harm (self harm), descriptions of self-contempt, descriptions of feelings of unworthiness.

let me know if i missed any warnings

It had been a while since the last time you’d done this. The thought of even returning back to this state was beyond you. Everything had been going so well it seemed. Sure, life still threw inconveniences towards you, but you handled them just fine, you thought.

Clearly not, as you’re now back to restraining yourself from eating and indulging yourself from something that’s vital for you to live. You knew the risks of refusing yourself food, you’d read all about the consequences and health risks of starving yourself.

Yet that is the precise reason you’re doing this.

You know how harmful this is and you know it’s bad. The knowledge of the dangers and harm in doing it is exactly why you continue doing it though: It’s your punishment. A sigh escapes your lips as you try concentrating on the paper that lay before you instead of the numbness that starts taking over your legs and the quivering of your hand. There isn’t any way for you to not notice how your body is screaming out for something to eat. It’s constantly reminding you as your vision is clouded with dark spots whenever you move and how your body shakes as you do any everyday task. Despite its cries for food, you ignore it and open the lid to the water bottle beside you and empty half of it to ignore the ache in your stomach due to its emptiness.

It helps, somewhat, as it fools your stomach for sometime at least. In a shaky motion you place the water bottle beside the pile of assignments you have to finish before the end of this week.

It’s difficult to get anything done when the ache in your stomach extends to the rest of your body, making the most simple task like reading over the text presented in front of you and writing down notes feeling so incredibly demanding on your body. A groan escapes your lips as you lean back into the chair and drag your hand across your face in annoyance. You need to finish these assignments, yet you can’t. Everything feels so hazy and your mind is blank, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of hunger growing more intense.

The bustling from the kitchen can be heard all the way into your room. Usually at this hour you’d sit by the kitchen table and eat with Alhaitham and Kaveh, but you’ve locked yourself away in your room, drowning yourself in work to ignore the deep wretched feelings that linger within you. A faint knock on the door echoes throughout the room as a voice calls out from the other side. It’s Kaveh’s voice, calling out to you. "(Y/N)?" Your name is muffled by the closed door as you turn around in your seat to look at the source of the sound. There stands Kaveh, holding a plate with food in his hand while the other one is still gripping onto the door handle.

Your eyes quickly scan his face before they dart down to look at the plate he’s holding.

It’s too much, you think as you look at the contents of the food. Numbers appear inside your head the longer you stare at the plate, feeling repulsed at the thought of putting anything in your mouth and fulfilling your hunger at the cost of the imaginary numbers going up.

You turn around to face the paper you’ve been staring blankly at for the last hour, waving Kaveh off. “I’ve already eaten.” You answer courtly. You haven’t, but telling him you weren’t hungry wasn’t an option. Kaveh would be reluctant had you answered that you weren’t hungry and placed the food by your table instead. The thought alone that he might do that makes you want to cry and scream in panic. You can’t risk letting yourself indulge in the food that he’s made: You must go through with your own punishment.

Kaveh sighs and grabs the door handle, about to leave and close the door before the sound of your stomach growling bounces off the walls. He stops in his tracks as his grip on the plate tightens. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you tense up at how your stomach contradicts your words from earlier. A deep terror stirs within you as your thoughts wander off to all the possible reactions you might receive from the blond man at the revelation. You hear how he shuffles behind you and closes the door behind him as he approaches you. You dare not to turn around to look at him, instead you hold up your face above the paper and stare intently onto it, trying to focus on the words that dance around across the paper to ignore Kaveh’s look of pity and concern.

Kaveh is standing right next to you, his grip on the plate is so incredibly tight that his knuckles have gone white. His eyes are soft and laced with worry as he looks down on you, and to be honest; he’s not sure how to handle this situation he’s being faced with right now. He places the plate next to your bedside table instead of the table in front of you, knowing better than shoving unwanted food up your face. It’s not what you need right now.

Kaveh sits on the side of your bed, boring his eyes into the back of your head as he waits for you to do the first move, to begin the conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you off now that he’s found out. He can feel the pain within you. He can see the hurt and the desperation, but he has no words to fill the silence. He doesn't know how he could possibly help you, but he wants to. More than that, he wants to try.

“I’m fine” you try to subside the situation, playing it off to only being a one time thing when it’s clear to the both of you that it isn’t.

Kaveh interrupts you. “You’re not fine.” Kaveh still has the same gentleness to him, but there’s a certain amount of firmness to his words too. It leaves no room for you to slither your way out of his confrontation. “Are you hurting yourself? Are you starving yourself?”

The words feel like he had just physically assaulted you, as if he had pulled out a knife and stabbed you in the chest while twirling the knife around inside of your heart. The words feel as if Kaveh had just falsely accused you of a crime you hadn’t committed.

But the two of you know better than that. You both know that the reason you feel so attacked is because Kaveh is calling you out, and rightfully so.

“No! No. I am not starving myself.” The words come out much harsher than you had intended them to be, sounding defensive and giving yourself away to Kaveh. The pile of paperwork that needs to be done stares at you mockingly as you look down on the paper in front of you that is still blank.

“I’m just- I don’t want to eat.” It’s half the truth. You do in fact not want to eat, but it’s for all the wrong reasons you don’t want to eat. Kaveh sighs as he gets up from your bed and walks up behind you. For a moment he almost reaches out to you, but he draws his hand back and places it on your chair instead of your shoulder, like he had intended to. He’s reluctant to touch you. In this moment right now, you’re fragile, and he must tread carefully so as to not break you.

“Do you think I don’t see it?” His voice is gentle, but there’s a certain edge to it. It cuts right through any excuses that might slip past your mouth to escape this conversation neither of you want to have. The words have you cornered, and as if you were reliving an experience much like this -where you were confronted and you admitted, only to be rejected from the care and help you needed- you feel a need to run away from him. To run away from your home, from the house, run, run and run. But where would you run? There’s no way for you to run away from him, and even if you did: Where would you run?

Would you even have the energy to run away from him with the way your vision would cloud with black spots covering your sight and with the way your legs feel numb?

Reality hits you like a brick as you realize that Kaveh has you cornered and at his mercy.

A hitched breath escapes your lips as you feel your hands and feet going cold along with being overcome by dreadfulness as the situation you’re in slowly sinks in.

“This is unhealthy, and you know it, don’t you?” It’s not much of a question really. His voice is firm, trying to cover up his own shakiness as your condition dawns upon him. “Please.. could you talk to me?” he pleads, letting his hand fall from the chair, down to your shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. The contact makes you flinch as it pulls you back from your swarm of thoughts, back into the present with him. The words seem stuck in your mouth, suffocating you and preventing you from voicing your thoughts and feelings that you’re left only shaking your head at his request of opening up. Kaveh lets out a sigh as he lets his hand fall from your shoulder. For a moment, you think he’s given up on you and will leave you alone to deal with your misery by yourself; the thought causes you both pain and relief. Instead, he walks around your chair and crouches next to you as he looks up to you from below.

“Please. Talk to me.” he begins as he balances himself on the armrest all while tilting his head up at you. “What can I do to help you? You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know!” you finally exclaim as your face falls into your hands. You inhale shakily as Kaveh continues to inspect your face for something, anything.

“I don’t.. know.”

Everything around you spins like an unpleasant merry-go-round ride as your vision becomes clouded by the black spots appearing before you.

One of the consequences of not eating, you suppose.

How you wished that you could’ve kept this secret from him a little longer. Long enough for him to not have to have this confrontation with you right now.

Kaveh can only feel pity as he looks at you. You look so fragile right now, so weak. It hurts him to see you so, to see your body shaking from your hunger.

He has a question that he wants to ask, but he feels afraid to. You don't owe him anything, he supposes.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" How do you ask someone why they are harming themselves? How do you say that without it coming across in a terrible way? Kaveh had an immense sense of empathy, but even that had its limits.

"I deserve it."

The words slip out your mouth with ease, as if the question had no other answer but that. Tears that you had been holding back from the moment your secret was out swell up in your eyes and threaten to fall down on the blank, empty paper sheet that should’ve been filled in by now. The dripping of your tears resounds in your head and you pray that Kaveh doesn’t hear how you’re covering your paperwork in tears.

"I deserve it." You repeat the words shakily this time as a sob finally manages to escape your mouth. All you want to do is make yourself as small as possible so you can just vanish from the earth’s surface. But you can’t.

So you do the next best thing, which is curling yourself into a ball while you let the tears flow down your cheeks as your entire form tenses up and shakes from the anguish you feel inside of you.

Several feelings washes over Kaveh. Ones of confusion, concern and guilt.

You don't deserve this.

Nobody deserves to feel so low. And you are so, so very low: starving yourself just as a punishment.

He can't help but feel pity for you. The words come out before he can even stop them from slipping past his lips: "Why do you deserve it?"

He's trying to be kind and supportive, he really is, but it's painfully hard for him to find the right words. It’s difficult seeing a loved one tear themselves apart in front of him all while thinking they deserve to suffer and break.

His question is one not even you can answer. It’s a question that you’ve pondered about whenever you’ve come to your senses after having breakdowns much like these, and each time you’re left with no answer. There's only that part of you, that little tiny voice in the back of your head that tells you that you deserve nothing less than pain and suffering. That this is the only way for you to get rid of the mental turmoil you experience on a daily basis.

That the only way to get rid of the emotional and mental pain is to double the physical pain, and what easier way is there to feel physical pain if it isn’t to inflict it upon yourself; by yourself?

How do you help someone who believes that?

It's not like you can just tell them that they don't deserve it. How could he ever convince you that you’re wrong? How can he convince you that there's a better way than starving and hurting yourself?

How is any of this supposed to be okay for you?

"(Y/N)," he calls out your name, the sound of his voice pleading yet somehow still kind, "(Y/N). There is no reason to hurt yourself. You deserve better."

As if you weren’t already curled into a ball you only manage to make yourself smaller as you cry, your entire form shaking. It's not till now that he's so up close to you that he sees how your body is covered in goosebumps and the bruises that linger across your body. They look self-inflicted and Kaveh can't help but let out a wince as he looks at the bruises that cover your skin.

He tries his hardest to contain his horror at seeing what you’ve done to herself. It looks so painful, so terrible, but it's clear from your shivering, from your shaking, from the way your face crumples - from the way you curl up into a ball so easily - that this isn't your first time.

You’re hurting, and at your own hand.

He doesn't know how to process that. He has never seen anyone do this to themselves. He can't imagine how any of this could be good.

Your grip on your legs only grows tightens as you cry into your knees, on the verge of wailing from feeling how your heart aches. It’s as if someone is tightening their grip on your already fragile heart, and it hurts so very much.

You could handle feeling hungry, and you could handle inflicting pain upon yourself, littering your body with bruises to show for it. Yet you couldn’t handle the feelings inside of you that were crushing you and tearing you apart. You had learnt to handle your inner turmoil by ignoring the feelings until they grew so great that the only way to rid yourself of the demons surrounding you was to hurt them through yourself.

The relief was only temporary, sure, but you’d do anything for the moment of peace in your inferno called your own mind.

He sighs heavily, the sound filled with regret and pity. Kaveh doesn’t say anything and remains looking up to your face as you quickly unravel before him.

This is beyond him. He doesn't know how to comfort you- how to help you. He has no idea what to say or what to do. It’s all so overwhelming - all these feelings of fear and confusion and pity and care - that he doesn't even know how to begin to process, let alone express.

He places a gentle, comforting hand on your knee as you continue to cry. You’re so up in your own thoughts and emotions that you can’t get yourself to pull away from his touch.

It’s not that his touch wasn’t comforting. It was very comforting. And that was exactly why you wanted to pull away from his touch.

You don’t deserve that kind of comfort.

"I'm sorry.." the words come out so weak, putting your broken state on full display for Kaveh. A sob escapes your mouth as you try your best regaining your composure to no avail. Each breath you try and take control over gets interrupted by a sob or a gasp for air.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you repeat as you burrow your face further into your knees. Your words are slurring as you’re choking back your cries to get the words out of your mouth.

Kaveh doesn't even understand what you could possibly have to be sorry for. You've done nothing wrong. You've committed no sins worth feeling so terrible for.

But how does he tell you that? How could he convince you of the truth that appears so clearly to him but isn’t as obvious for you?

He doesn't.

How does he convince you to get past these terrible feelings of wrongness, when you’re so very convinced that it's your punishment? How does he convince you to give yourself kindness and care, when you believe yourself so unworthy? How does he make you realize that this isn't your fault, that you haven't done anything that deserves all of this?

Kaveh moves closer to you - so carefully, so slowly. As if you’re something fragile, to be treated with respect and care. Because you are fragile. You’re hurt, and you’re so, so small. All he wants to do is to hold you, to bring you comfort, to hug you, to hold you in his arms. He just wants to lift your heavy burden off of your shoulders. But he doesn’t reach out to do any of that, it doesn’t feel appropriate to do so right now as you’re sobbing in front of him and curling yourself into a ball.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says quietly. "You're hurting yourself, and that can't be okay. Please," he adds, his voice pleading, "Let me try to help you. You don't have to do this. You don't deserve to do this."

You had always had a hard time accepting other people’s kindness and comfort, it was extremely difficult for you to understand and wrap your head around the concept of being treated with decency and care from another being without expecting anything back in return. The feelings overwhelm you and you feel how you want to throw up from Kaveh’s attentiveness, it’s all too much for you.

You’d rather have him walk out on you and leave you in your pitiful state to fend for yourself. It’s what you’re used to. And when he breaks what you consider a norm, your world falls apart with it.

The tears flow down your cheeks as if they’ll never come to an end.

Kaveh can see it from the way you gasp and wail when his words of care finally register.

It’s written all over your face - your pain, your hurt - it’s clear that you’re not used to being treated with such care and attention. It’s clear that this isn’t something you’re used to; it’s clear that you’re not used to having someone trying to help you.

It breaks Kaveh’s heart to see you struggle like this. He doesn’t know how he can get you to accept this treatment from him, from anyone.

He wants nothing in return; he only wants to help. How can he get you to understand that? How could he ever assure someone that they’re deserving of unconditional care and love when that very someone is so fully convinced that they deserve pain?

"You need help," he says quietly. "Let me help you."

Why do you deserve to suffer, to hurt yourself, when you’ve done nothing wrong? Why are you so cruel to yourself? Kaveh lets the thought wander in his head for some time before he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t come to any reasonable conclusion as to why you’d be so cruel to yourself. He could only speculate.

Is this why you hurt yourself? The thought intrudes him, as he tries to stay focused on comforting you.

Because you feel like you don’t deserve kindness?

But why? Why wouldn't you deserve kindness? This isn't because of any mistakes you’ve made, is it? Has someone made you believe this? Or is it something that you’ve always thought? Either way, you’re wrong. You deserve kindness. You deserve the world.

You deserve to be treated well.

"You deserve so much better," he says quietly, "You aren't pitiful. I promise you that you are so much more than what you tell yourself you are."

Kaveh places his hands on top of yours as he rubs comforting circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. Another sob escapes your lips at his attempts to soothe your ache. He can feel the way you tremble under his hands as he gives you a gentle squeeze of comfort to stabilize your quivering form, even if it's just by a little bit. He keeps rubbing, still trying to help you. Neither of you say anything and the only thing to be heard in the room is the sound of your rapid breathing and hitched sobs. And while the tremors still persist, your sobs are becoming less frantic. He thinks he might be comforting her just slightly, but it's good enough for now. At least it’s a start.

Kaveh wants to say something, but he doesn't know what to say. He's never been in a situation like this before. He doesn't want to sound like an idiot. But he also doesn't want to stay silent.

He cannot bear to see you like this, and he doesn't want to imagine how much pain you’ve been carrying for you to end up here like this.

He wants so badly for you to be okay. He wants nothing more than to give you his care and comfort. Kaveh gets up from his crouching position and feels his legs tingle from sitting like that for so long, but he ignores it. It’s not important right now. What is, is you and your wellbeing.

He assumes that if you responded positively to having him rub your hand, then maybe you'd respond better to affectionate comfort. Kaveh is reluctant at first. A hug is much more personal, much more intimate than drawing circles on someone's palm. So he asks.

"Is it okay if I hug you?"

You tense up at the request reluctantly. Granted, you and Kaveh would usually greet one another by giving a quick hug with a pat on the back before getting to it. But this was different. Much different from those lighthearted moments you’d share before you go off to wherever you had planned on doing for the day, whether that was taking a walk amongst the streets of the city or just enjoying one another's presence as you work deliberately.

You’re hesitant, and Kaveh is about to reassure you that it’s fine if you don’t want to until he sees a small nod coming from you. Your eyes quickly dart down to meet his before you avert your gaze from him, feeling the shame and embarrassment crawl along your back amongst the other feelings that roam inside of you.

Kaveh is quick to act as he pulls you into his embrace.

He holds you protectively, as if he just holds you close enough to him he'll be able to shield you from the cold, cruel world that's hurt you so. You just want to hold on to him. Just wants him to hold you, to hug you and hold you close to him.

The warmth is so comforting, so very comforting that the little voice in your head tells you that you aren't worthy of this kind of affection. That you don’t deserve to be cared for like this, and a part of you still holds onto that truth. Despite that, you cling onto him as if he were your lifeline, the very last thread that was keeping you from floating away. You want this- you’ve been yearning for someone to hold you like this, and even though a loud part of you disagrees- that part of you that tells you that you’re not deserving of this- you can’t help but bask in his warmth that he provides for you.

The plate on your bedside table catches his eye, long forgotten. The food had obviously gone cold by now. Whatever, Kaveh thinks. It doesn’t matter, he can always just warm it up later. What matters is that he helps you back on your feet and support you through this.

You don’t have to fend for yourself anymore. He’s here now, and he’ll help you through it. He may not be capable of chasing away your demons for you, but you’ll always have his endless support.

He’ll spend an eternity if it means he could make you believe that you deserve everything.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh comfort #kaveh angst #kaveh hurt/comfort #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin comfort #genshin impact comfort #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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lingering-42-long · 1 year

Text

141 + extra When everyone is sick

I am sick. And because I am sick, I thought about doing some thing dealing with some of the COD characters with not just you, or them, or your children sick, but Everybody sick. Let’s be honest one person just doesn’t get sick and then the other people are fine in the household most people if one person gets sick, the whole household runs with that same disgusting germ. If you are a squeamish 2, the usual illness that includes potential, throw up, fevers, coughs, mucus, and whatever else comes out of the crusty eyes of everybody who is sick, then this story might not be for you. Enjoy~

Also, if you want to leave a question, or ask for a theme for a head cannon, or a short story, please feel free to use the ask box! It’s always open!

COD x Female Character

Warnings: sicknes and other related things, fluff

Captain John Prince

• It started when the girls came back home from school.

• At first they just had sneezes which you didn’t think much about but then the next day their sneezes have turned into coughs and sore throats.

• There was no fever, so you still sent them to school with a packet of Halls for each of them and some kid friendly medicine.

• It was around 2 o’clock and you were almost ready to pick them up from school. When you receive a phone call from the teacher letting you know that your two children have a fever.

• A day later you had caught whatever bug they had caught

• And now your young toddler, son is also down with whatever.

• John is much more susceptible to colds and can handle them. He was doing his best to make sure that everybody was taken care of.

• It honestly broke his heart, saying that his whole family was practically crumpling underneath this little illness.

• He made sure to stay on top of the medication and would do his best to help you with the kids when they weren’t feeling good.

• To make sure that he didn’t get sick, he decided to sleep in the guest bedroom.

• Makes the best chicken noodle soup this side of England!

• Reads to his children while keeping a safe distance from them.

• If you’re burning up and not feeling well, immediately gets a bath going for you.

• He wants to be close to you and the children again and he misses hugging them and you.

• One of the only people that does not get sick.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• You two had eaten some thing that did not settle well in either of your stomachs.

• While, Simon was capable of looking like he wasn’t in pain, you were a different story.

• You were throwing up almost every hour and your stomach hurts so bad.

• Did I forget to mention you’re pregnant with his first child?

• Simon does everything he can for both of you.

• He make sure that you both take the medication on time and he’s very precise with keeping you guys on track of drinking water and taking charcoal pills to eliminate any toxin in your body.

• He’s asking you if you are OK.

• Even though this wasn’t his fault, he still feels like it is.

• You remind him that there is nothing, he could’ve done since neither of you knew that the food was tainted with something.

• He rubs your belly at night, trying to ease the pain that you are feeling, and that your child are experiencing.

• At night, you hear him throwing up. You see him crouched on the side of the toilet, puking out whatever liquids were in his stomach.

• By the time he’s done, he all butt collapses on to the floor, exhausted.

• You help him up and he get him to brush his teeth then you to go back to bed with one trash can mirror each of your bedside.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• Johnny and you had come down with some thing.

• It was a cold, rainy day in Scotland while he and you were hiking.

• You hadn’t expect it to rain so soon.

• It has been a beautiful day out on the highlands when suddenly you got drenched.

• You were now wet and cold and you had at least half a kilometer away from your car.

• Johnny made sure to get you warmed up with a nice hot shower and to make you guys both some soup.

• You could tell by his face he wasn’t feeling good either.

• Another good news was that you made sure to have the freezer stocked with soup bases, and stock as well as soups for cold days and emergencies.

• You to sit on the couch, cuddled together in your blankets, trying to stay warm and drink your soup.

• You take some Advil before heading off to bed.

• The next morning you feel worse than you did.

• You could hear Johnny moaning as he was puking up his contents from dinner.

• His puking caused you to have a chain reaction and you started to feel the bile rising up.

• Next thing you know you’re racing towards the bathroom to throw up as well.

• But it’s too late for you as you suddenly release most of your contacts on the bedroom floor, staining your carpet in the process.

• Johnny sees this and does what he can to finish up with his issue before coming over to help you at least make it into the bathroom before a second wave hits you.

• Your whole body is burning up.

• You decide to start a hot bath for both of you.

• You’re shaking for how cold you feel.

• Johnny does his best to keep you both warm.

• He lays a ton of kisses on your for head as he whispers that it’s going to be OK.

• He is very clingy and wants to be holding you and touching you at all times.

• Some thing about sharing body heat to keep you both warm.

• Just an excuse to hold you.

• He also promises to do a better thorough check on the weather the next time.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• Gaz was the one that got sick first.

• You’re not exactly sure how he got it. He just came home with a cough and a scratchy throat saying it was nothing.

• The next morning, he woke up with a lot of pain in his throat, and it was making it difficult for him to breathe properly.

• Worried you take him to the doctors and you find out that he has strep throat.

• The doctor gives you the medication you need to help treat him and suggest that you stay away from him as best as you can.

• This hurts both of you since you both want to be close to one another especially in the time of need.

• Gaz makes a phone call to price letting him know that he won’t be in at base due to strep throat.

• Captain Price wishes him well and sends him a speedy recovery.

• Gaz hates taking medicine. He’s not a big fan of bitter stuff.

• But he will do anything if you get to play nurse for him.

• Slightly clingy, but not nearly as clingy as soap.

• Whines a little about not feeling well.

• He doesn’t complain much because he knows you’re doing your best and he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not doing your best.

• He falls asleep faster if you’re in the room sitting in a chair next to him.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• The commander is very similar to John. He rarely gets sick, but he hates seeing you get sick and more importantly he hates seeing his children get sick.

• His youngest daughter started not feeling very good a couple of days ago.

• His little baby girl was sent to the hospital to make sure everything was OK.

• She had just picked up the bug that had been passing around the area.

• Do you love watching your husband take care of his baby girl.

• He acts as if her life depends upon him solely to take care of her.

• The other two kids are advised to stay away from their youngest siblings room until she’s feeling better.

• They write her all cards, telling her to get well soon.

• Your two eldest children help you make fresh broth, so that their sibling could have some nourishment.

• Alejandro also knows that he is potentially at risk for catching whatever she has. So in order to keep the disease from spreading, he also sleeps in the guestroom.

• He does miss not being with his family.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• Your son has always been a weak child from the beginning.

• Since the moment of birth, Rudy and you had to go to the doctors office quite more frequently than what most babies had to go into because your son suffers with autoimmune disease.

• When he was first born, you almost lost him, because he was so weak and born as a preemie.

• Thankfully, he has gotten a lot healthier, but it still considered a very small baby even for his size.

• It was one of those days where he was not feeling very good. While a normal cough or sneeze doesn’t harm a person can absolutely destroy your son.

• Rudy and you are in the ICU making sure that your son is in good hands and being watched over.

• Rudy is nervous but he chose not to show it for you.

• He loves his son dearly and wants the best for him he wishes that he could take his sons pain away.

• His son had to get some IV drips into him.

• Both you and your husband will stay in the hospital for sometime.

König

• Nothing beats a good day, playing out in the snow in Austria, however; that day will be very short-lived as the whole family gets whammied with an illness.

• The only one that isn’t sick is your baby boy who is staying with his grandmother for the time being as the rest if you get healed up.

• König is not a very healthy person. He doesn’t necessarily have an auto immune issue, but he does catch colds a lot faster, and he sustains them a lot longer than most people.

• Unfortunately, this means that all the work is put on you.

• He really wants to help with the responsibilities, but he can’t even move out of bed without the world spinning, and he hast to collapse back onto the sheets or risk blacking out.

• His girls fare better and you’re doing OK with just a sore throat and a slight fever and mixed with a headache.

• Since you are all sick, you decide to just all cuddle up together in bed.

• König is passed out fast asleep, and the two little girls are squirming around, trying to get comfortable.

• You’re doing your best that you can and you’ve already gotten the medicine from the doctors for the girls and your husband and yourself.

• One morning you wake up to somebody brushing your hair and you look up to see König with some hot coffee ready for you.

• He was feeling a little bit better this morning and wanted to do something nice for you.

• He feels really bad for not helping you with the girls even if you tell them it’s fine.

Alex Keller

• You’ve got pneumonia.

• Alex is like a Labrador retriever.

• He will get you anything that you need or want.

• He woke up in the middle of the night

• He then heard you crying, which helps him get up faster.

• You are in pain and the rattling in your lungs is the evidence of that pain.

• Alex does everything that the doctor prescribes you.

• You have to wear a nebulizer for a few minutes every handful of hours.

• He brings you clothes in his arms as you two are watching a TV show while your nebulizer is wrapped around your face, making a Low hum as it is pumping you with the steam.

• The way you’re laying on his leg is making him uncomfortable, but he’s not gonna say anything to you.

• Right now he’s focused on making sure that you are OK.

Philip Graves

• Philip has never been one really to get sick.

• He Springs back from a lot of things really quickly. It would literally take a bomb to put him under and even then he would still find away.

• He’s not feeling good but he’s got work that Hass to get done and no amount of stopping him is going to keep them from doing his work.

• That is until you get up into his face and pretty much force him back down on the couch when he tries to leave with a 102°f (39°c)fever.

• He grumbles about some thing for Work stating that he can’t miss on his job.

• So you make him go to a doctor and you find out that he has Covid.

• He gets a doctors note and calls in sick from work.

• Yeah, you’re petty.

• You make sure to get the bedroom set up nicely for him and also make sure to have water by his bedside so he’s not dehydrated.

• He grumbles more about how he can handle himself.

• You threaten to call his mom.

• He shuts up.

• He now begrudgingly has to deal with you, tending to his care

• The worst part is he actually enjoys it, and will find any excuse for you to be near him.

• He will ask five or six other times to bring him more tissues, or to fluff up the pillows or tuck in the sheets a little bit more.

• He tries to kiss you after every task, but of course you dodged them telling him he did not want to get Covid.

• He just gets grouchy again.

• Once he’s better, he plans on taking you out to dinner for all your hard work and making him feel better .

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yanderambling · 1 year

Note

I'm already loving your posts

what do you think about a yandere assistant and villain reader?

They would be so frustrated because the reader is spending all theirs energies thinking of a plan to capture the hero and not giving them enough attention.

100% would kill the hero behind reader's back

i'm so glad! and yes please i love a jealous little creep, i'm already obsessed <3

concept: Henchman!Yandere(gn) x Supervillain!Reader(gn)

words: ~700

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, stalking, breaking/entering

You look so alluring when you scheme. No earthly or heavenly beauty could compare to the mere sight of you:

The stern concentration pinching your brow just slightly, your arms flexing as you clench and release your fists over and again, your lip idly drawn between your teeth on blessed occasion- it’s enough to make someone bite through their tongue (just partially, and it was only twice).

Tau watches you plan for hours a day (even when they technically have other tasks to carry out), they like to imagine it’s them you’re looking at with such a single-minded focus (perhaps knelt over them on your bed, deciding precisely which ways you want to take them apart).

What they wouldn’t give for just a fraction of the attention you constantly bestow upon that sniveling little “hero”. It’s not even like the hero has done anything to deserve your dedication, not like Tau has.

No, all they did was beat you (which few have ever done). And then… keep beating you (which none have ever done).

Tau knows how much you hate to lose, lower grunts have payed with their lives for Uno games, but… there’s something more to your preoccupation with that vigilante wannabe.

They can see it in the way your bright eyes flick about the room, the way your lips just barely part as you mumble strategy and probability, the way you zone out during meals (that they made for you, naturally) then dart up to your office to test an idea, the way you constantly stay up well into the next morning trying out new inventions and gadgets to take them down- Tau hates to think it, but they know it’s true:

This hero is… motivating you.

As delightful as it is to see you so lively, Tau can’t help the furious jealousy that roils in their gut almost constantly these days.

Why can’t they be the one to make you feel like this? Why can’t they challenge you, inspire you? Why can’t they bring that spark to your eyes?

They should be able to.

They’ve been by your side since the beginning, supporting and encouraging you through every high and low, they know you better than anyone does (yourself included)- and, goddamnit, they deserve it! They’ve given everything to you, and all they ask for in return is a second glance (then a third, then a fourth, then- oh, just stop looking away already!)

It's just not fair- that boot kisser gets every second of your free time, every spare thought, all 'cause they can take (...and deal) a couple hits? (More than a couple; Tau has definitely tried to take them down on many a solo mission, and they've always come out worse for it. They don't wanna talk about it.)

At the very least, they do get to spend a little more time with you, even if it's to watch you obsessively plan for the hero's interruption of your next evil venture.

They're still the one by your side.

They still get to stand at your shoulder and pass you tools as you work on a project (and bite their cheek every time your fingers touch to hold back a moan).

They still get to brush their shoulder against yours while you both stand over a blueprint (and then spend the next fifteen minutes trying not to hyperventilate and/or enter cardiac arrest).

They still get to hang up your cloak after a strenuous mission (and bury their nose in it until the edges of their vision go dark, and lick your sweat off the collar until their tongue is raw, and rub the damp material across their skin until they can feel you all over them).

(They still get to sneak into your bedroom every night with the spare key they made under your nose. They still get to pant over your face as they bask in your glory, as they breathe your breath. They still get to oh so carefully interlace their fingers with your own, intoxicatingly warm ones, they still get to pretend you'd ever want to hold them.)

Yes, they're still very much happy with their position- they'll just be much happier once that nuisance is taken care of.

Then, they can focus solely on aiding you in your endeavor for world domination, and you can focus on what really matters: them!

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #sub yandere #gn yandere #gn reader #henchman yandere #supervillain reader #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere imagine #yandere requests #requests open #tw yandere

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 12 days

Text

Spicy cake

Katya finds a new way to communicate her needs.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 1.4k • Warnings: suggestive talk (this is a given at this point) Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!! Masterlist

A/N: I owe this whole idea to @nataliasquote <3 ty girl

2028

Listen, Katya in the kitchen wasn't anything new. She cooked dinner three days of the week, and sometimes she liked to bake simple cakes or cookies, the ones from those boxes.

But she'd been in the kitchen, mixing and rummaging, for the past two hours, and Natasha was starting to get confused. No cake or cookie would take that long to make. Not even including prep and baking time.

On top of that, an unfamiliar smell filled up the house. It was cake, but a special kind of cake. Flavored? It had a hint of strawberries.

Now, it could be that Natasha's senses were still confused from the cake tasting they'd done just this morning. Four hours of trying different flavors and textures of cake to decide which one they should serve their wedding guests. Her tongue was still confused.

Initially, she simply wanted to pick a flavor from the menu and tell the bakery to go with it, but Katya had pouted like a little kid who was robbed of going to the candy store. So they went cake tasting. Whatever makes the wife happiest.

Would Clint and Tony make fun of her for agreeing to go with Katya's choice and have a white chocolate cake with raspberry cream? Probably. It screamed, "my wife picked this and I went along with it because I'm a simp for her, and I couldn't care less about the flavor of the cake, and white chocolate is way too sweet for my taste". But Katya left the bakery with the biggest smile on her face, and that's all that mattered.

Blinking the sleep from her mid-day nap from her eyes, Natasha wandered down the stairs, curiously creeping up to the kitchen. The smell was even stronger here, seducing her into following her nose towards the source. She couldn't deny it, it smelled great, her mouth watering despite the abundance of cake currently being processed in her stomach.

"What are you—"

A towel flew through the kitchen. One second, Natasha saw everything, the next, her vision was black. The smell of wet cotton filled her nose, filtering the one of freshly baked cake, much to her disappointment. Katya had thrown the towel with such precision and skill that it covered her face and stayed there, like a makeshift ghost costume.

"Don't look! It's a surprise."

Natasha felt like a complete idiot, standing there in the door opening with that thing on her head, but she didn't fight it. "What are you doing in there?"

"Making a cake for you."

Even blind, she knew what expression her wife was making based on the tone of her voice. Giddy, adorable excitement, the most endearing, bright smile on her face.

Natasha furrowed her brows, her heart swelling. "For me?" It wasn't her birthday, and she didn't accomplish anything exciting lately.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Just because." Katya beamed. There was some clattering, a few silent footsteps on the ground. Natasha sensed her body as it moved around the space.

"How can you even still think about cake after this morning?" She teased lightly.

It was meant to be a joke, one Katya would respond to with something witty or sarcastic, but Natasha's question was met with a pause that was a bit too long instead. Slowly, the smile faded from her lips.

"Should I have made something else?" Katya asked softly.

"No!" Natasha exclaimed in a hurry. She nearly tore the towel off her head to show Katya exactly how soft and grateful her eyes were. Even if she was literally puking from eating too much cake earlier, she'd still thank her wife for being so sweet. "No, baby, I love it."

"Okay." The enthusiasm returned to Katya's voice, to Natasha's great relief. "Give me ten more minutes and I'll be done. Then I'll show you what I've been working on."

"Okay."

Doing a 180-degree turn in her spot, Natasha pulled the towel from her head. Oxygen-rich air filled her lungs as she walked to the living room, plopping on the couch with her phone. She had to fight off a thoughtful frown as she scrolled away and liked some posts on her Katya fan account.

Something in her gut told her that she should be suspicious. Katya baking a cake wasn't weird, but Katya baking a cake after the cake tasting this morning was weird, and Katya hiding said cake was even weirder. Usually, she was happy to indulge her family in their curiosity.

Natasha was knee-deep into another Katya fan account, and just about to zoom in on a bikini picture of her, when Katya's voice rang out.

"You can come back!"

Cautiously, she locked her phone and returned to the kitchen. Katya shielded her masterpiece with her body, a huge grin on her face as she waited for Natasha to be ready. Ready for something mysteriously. Her enthusiasm would be more endearing if Natasha was less suspicious.

"Tada!"

The cake revealed itself when Katya stepped aside. Natasha narrowed her eyes at it, taking a few steps closer to see it better.

Heart-shaped, it was at least ten inches tall and covered in pink buttercream. No fancy decorations, no other colors. Just a pink heart. Simple, classic, sleek

Oh, and two words on top.

'BANG ME'

Natasha just managed to keep her face straight, but it caught her off guard so badly she nearly choked on her own spit. Her heart skipped a few beats as she composed herself, putting on a nonchalant demeanor.

"Okay."

Surprised, Katya perked up. "Okay?"

"Okay. I'll bang you," Natasha said casually, shrugging her shoulders.

Katya's cheeks turned a light shade of pink, her previous confidence faltering because of her wife's casual use of vulgar talk. "Nat."

"Is it not what you wanted?" Natasha asked, slowly backing the brunette up against the counter. "It's a very clear suggestion. Very on the nose."

"You want me on your nose?" Katya feigned stupidity.

"I-" Natasha closed her mouth and shook her head with disappointment, much to Katya's amusement. The woman's blue eyes sparkled with mischief, a sly smile exposing her teeth. It was hard not to roll her eyes at it. "I love your writing," she commented, looking at the cake over Katya's shoulder. It was the worst example of capital block letters ever. Any six-year-old could do it better on paper.

Katya frowned in offense. "Don't shame my writing. It was my first time using a smaller piping bag."

"I can see that."

The frown deepened. "It was between, 'Bang me', and, 'I love your tits'. I went with this one."

"Amazing choice, baby," Natasha said dryly, running her hands from Katya's hips up to her waist, sliding them under her shirt. "I'm honored that you felt a need to declare your love for my boobs on a cake."

"Maybe I can do that next time." Katya abruptly perked up. "Oh! I can make the cake in the shape of actual boobs!" She was so excited about that prospect that she looked ready to make that cake right now.

Natasha chuckled lowly, giving her waist a playful squeeze. "How about you work on some actual, actual boobs right now?"

Katya froze. Her gaze flickered to Natasha's boobs and lingered there, a shimmer of lust mixing into her enthusiasm. "Actually?"

"Actually."

The prospect made her mouth water, yet her joy faltered a bit as she looked back up at Natasha's face. "What about my cake?"

The redhead smirked, pressing Katya further into the kitchen island with her hips. "Oh, I'll eat your cake."

Bonus:

Brooklyn perked up as she followed Maya into the house, kicking her shoes off by the door. "It smells so good in here!"

"My mom must have baked something." Maya smiled, always happy to try one of Katya's masterpieces. Stress-baking has made a good baker out of her.

Without waiting for her girlfriend, Brooklyn hurried into the kitchen, following the aroma that drifted into her nose. She spotted it instantly. "A cake!"

"What ki—" The girls stopped in their tracks, side by side as they read the words once, then twice, then another time to make sure they said what they said.

Slowly, Maya's face turned red. And even Brooklyn, who usually didn't get flustered easily, started to pale. They were both familiar with the Russians' shenanigans, but they hadn't stumbled upon something so embarrassing yet.

"We're never talking about this again," Maya muttered, dragging her girlfriend out of there.

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #black widow #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff fluff

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runa-falls · 2 years

Text

being (a) patient

summary: after his daughter's check up, it's ari's turn

pairing: dilf!ari x pediatrician!reader

rating: EXPLICIT (18+ only)

warnings: SMUT, doctor-patient roleplay :3, minor choking, ball fondling ???, cumplay, handjob, PIV sex, creampie, inaccurate medical things, "professional"!reader, cute dad!ari, dilf!ari, obedient!ari, naked!ari, bad dad jokes, not proof read--sorry

word count: 4k

A/N: "but once, you have a bunch of pt. 2's to finis-" SHHHHHHHHHHHH

likes are nice but comments/reblogs keep me going!

masterlist

-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-

“God dammit,” he mutters, fingers running through his hair in irritation. The clinic's company pen rapidly taps against the clipboard as he tries to recall his mother-in-law's number, needing to fill out his daughter’s emergency contact before he could continue.

He has been struggling to fill out this stack of forms for at least half an hour. They were dumped into his arms, along with the pen, as soon as he arrived, not a single word of explanation. He grimaces, convinced his ex-wife has made it her job to make his life harder.

Ari had just moved to this city, no more than three weeks ago, following after his daughter and ex-wife to stay close to them. A new town means a new school, a new house, and a new doctor. So here he is, registering his daughter for the new clinic, vomiting information that he’s sure they won’t even need.

His family is already in the doctor's room, called to the back 15 minutes ago to start the check-up, leaving him to scribble on his homework. It takes him another 10 minutes to get through the last two pages before he can just sign it and be done.

After he cheerfully drops the clipboard of papers on the front desk, feeling like he just completed the SATs. He was directed to the “lion room” in the very back of the hallway.

When he opens the door, his daughter immediately smiles at his arrival, swinging her legs back and forth as she sits on the bench. She must be waiting for the doctor to return. On the other hand, her mother doesn’t even look up, eyes locked on her phone as she scrolls through Twitter, pretending like he doesn’t exist.

He decides against taking the seat next to his ex, preferring to stand next to his little girl instead. She’s a ball of energy this afternoon, perpetually talking about everything and nothing all at once. Ari leans against the bench, asking her simple questions to pass the time.

“Did the doctor take your temperature?” Her pigtails sway as she nods thoughtfully, recalling the doctor’s verdict with precise detail.

“...and she said that I’m as warm as a hug!” Ari preens at her little lisp. She’s still getting used to losing both of her front teeth earlier this year. He sends her squinted eyes, teasingly pretending like he doubts her memory.

“Hm. I don’t believe that…”

“It’s true!” Ari holds back a smile, the lisp becoming more pronounced as she gets worked up. She holds up her pinkie with a humorously-serious face. “Promi-th.”

“Well,” His fingers brush through his beard as he looks up, pretending to consider her pinkie promise. His eyebrows furrowing in faux-thought. “I think I need some proof, bubs. Maybe you can show me?”

She thinks for a second, letting the request stew a little.

“‘kay.” Her little arms open wide, showing off her green Ariel t-shirt as she invites him in for a bear hug. Ari leans down to squeeze her close, his heart warming at the feeling of his baby in his arms. She giggles as he almost lifts her off the seat. He’s convinced he could never get enough hugs from his little girl,

“Oh wow, I-You know what, she might be right!” She snickers at his exasperated reaction, knowing he’s just messing with her.

“See? I told you.” The door behind him opens up, indicating the return of the doctor.

“You must be Mr. Levinson,” Ari swiftly turns to greet the gentle voice, but when his eyes land on you, a breath catches in his throat before he can say anything. Your eyes widen just a fraction, not expecting the father to be this good-looking. “It’s nice to meet you.” You smile politely, offering him a hand.

He wordlessly reaches out to shake it, still starstruck by the woman in front of him.

He clears his throat, nodding dumbly, barely understanding what you said. “You too.” Despite the electricity you felt from his touch, you slip your hand from his, promptly reminding yourself to remain professional.

Her mother is still on her phone, as unengaged as the moment you left, only paying attention when she’s addressed directly. You let out a sigh at the sight before placing your focus back on your little patient.

Pulling out a small tub of salve from your coat pocket, you offer it to the little girl, speaking to her as if she were an adult, “Put this on your rash every day after a shower or before you go to bed, ok? It should be gone within a few weeks. If not, have one of your parents call in for another appointment.”

She nods with a determined look, taking the cream with both hands. You glance over at her father, making sure he caught that. He sends you the same nod with the same expression. It’s adorable, the resemblance is uncanny.

“Other than that, you should be proud. You’re a healthy growing girl.” You pluck a star-shaped sticker from your other coat pocket, grinning as her eyes widen in excitement. “This,” You hold up the golden “good job” sticker, “is for you.” She blindly pushes the jar into her dad’s chest, hungrily focused on the reflective sticker.

“What do you say, sweetie?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Doctor!”

—

The antiseptic scent of the clinic pinches at Ari’s nose as he waits at the front desk to pay for his daughter’s check-up. He leans against the lip of the desk, tapping his fingers across the surface as he waits for one of the assistants to calculate the total.

“$500 for the new patient costs plus $40 for the medicine.” He shoves his hand to the back pocket of his jeans and grabs his wallet, plucking out his card and sliding it over to the lady. As he waits for the woman to charge him, his eyes wander around the empty pale-blue waiting room.

He notices you enter the room, taking note of how you are no longer in your white coat. Instead, you are wearing a nice dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. Despite the professional nature of your clothes, they fit you in all the right areas, perfectly molding to your curves. Ari’s thoughts wander as he shamelessly admires you from afar, unaware that you’re walking directly to him.

“Still here?” You tease, knowing how long post-appointment procedures can be–especially for newcomers. Based on his impatient positioning against the desk, he’s been waiting a while. You let your eyes roam, admiring how his shirt struggles against his broad shoulders and impressively muscled arms.

“Uh, yeah,” He shakes himself out of his thoughts, “the girls ditched me. I don’t know what it is…it’s like they’re only using me for my money.” He jokes, stupidly proud of himself when it earns himself a light chuckle from your chest. He’s still got it.

“...alright, sir, here’s your card,” he gives you a “hold that thought” before turning around to face the office assistant. “Just sign here and you’ll be free to go.” She places a paper copy of the bill and a pen in front of him. Ari hastily places his card back into his wallet before sloppily signing the paper, eager to get back to his interaction with you.

You give him an understanding smile when he returns to look at you. The two of you are left alone as the older woman takes the file into another room, uninterested in the conversation in front of her.

You take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

You slowly take a step closer to him, “I have to admit, they are lucky girls, having you to provide for them.” You boldly reach out, nudging his arm with your hand. You can feel how his muscles ripple as you run your fingers over the length of it. He stays silent, but you can see how his shoulders move as he breathes deeply. “But you need someone to take care of you too, don’t you?” Your face remains as professional as ever, acting like you're asking him a simple question.

You innocently tilt your head, savoring the way his eyes widen as he lets out a surprised cough at your blunt question. He takes a second to calm down, silently giving himself a pep talk to restore his nonchalant, charming persona.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

Ari fabricates another cough, repurposing his borderline embarrassing reaction as a tool for his next move. “Actually, I haven’t been feeling well, Doctor.” Another cough, “I think I might need a check-up.” He took a glance at your face, hoping you were picking up on his intentions.

“Oh?” A warm hand is placed on his forehead, flipping over as you feel for his temperature. He’s impressed by the convincing sympathy that fills your eyes as you watch him fake a softer cough. “If you’d like,” You look down at your watch, pretending to calculate how much time you have, “I can bring you to the back right now?”

He sends you a playful smile before settling back into his role by responding in a raspy voice, “That would be great, Doc.”

—

“Alright, take a seat.” You gesture to the small bench lined with colorful animal-print paper. “I’ll be back in a second, just have to grab a few things.” He follows your directions, noisily crinkling the paper under him as he settles on the edge of the bench.

You return in your full doctor-get up, a white coat complete with a stethoscope around your neck and blue latex gloves. You look adorably professional for the fake exam you’re about to perform. You hold a clipboard in one hand and a cute bumble bee pen in the other.

“So what seems to be the problem?” You glance up at him, pen hovering over a blank sheet of paper like you’re ready to take some notes.

“I don’t know. I-I feel like something’s wrong, but I don’t know how to explain it.” He feigns a pout, holding a hand to his lower stomach before drifting it downwards suggestively.

Pretending like you don’t notice his intent, you nod thoughtfully, the pitiful expression you send him is almost condescending and it drives him crazy.

“Let's try to figure it out together then, shall we?” From a cabinet next to the bench, you grab an old-school thermometer. You suppose you could use a regular digital one, but you’ve been craving to see something in his pouty mouth.

His lips quirk up as he notices your hungry stare locked on his mouth. He cheekily runs his tongue over his bottom lip, enjoying the way your eyelids droop, captivated with the motion. “Say ‘ahh.’”

Ari gladly opens his mouth, reciting the noise right back: “ahhhh” You slip the end of the tool under his tongue.

“Alright, let’s keep that in there for 2 minutes?”

“Yes, ma’am” his words are muffled as he tries to keep the thermometer in his mouth. You keep busy, acting like you’re writing notes on your clipboard like a good doctor.

After scribbling a few flowers and smiley faces around the page, you secretly peek up at him. He stares right back with an amused look as he obediently keeps the glass stick under his tongue. You mentally berate yourself for the way your face heats up under his cocky stare.

You realize how distracted you were when you glance up at the cat-shaped clock. It’s been 5 minutes. “Alright, let’s see…” you gently take it out of his mouth and take a glance at the temperature. Hopefully, he doesn’t miraculously have a fever because then this little role-playing activity will have to be cut short. “…98.3°. Ok, good. So it’s not a fever.”

“Well, I could’ve told you that.” He retorts. You roll your eyes as you place the thermometer in a sanitary cup.

“Shush, be patient and let me do my exam.”

Like the dad he is, he responds, “What do you mean? I am a patient.” He shamelessly laughs at his own joke, proud that he came up with that so fast. You let out a teasing groan, as you pretend to be annoyed. “What? Ok, ok, I’ll behave.” You tap the tops of his thighs indicating for him to spread them so you can stand closer. He opens easily, eagerly inviting you into his space.

Now standing right in front of him, you pull your stethoscope from your shoulders, “Okay, let’s check your heart.” As you’re about to place the cool metal right under his shirt, he quickly begins to unbutton it, revealing his gorgeously untrimmed chest to the cool air of the room.

Your eyes openly drink in his perfectly tanned skin, his happy trail taunting you as it hints at his growing problem below. Your cunt throbs as you inhale shakily, almost forgetting what you’re supposed to be doing. He follows your eager gaze and moves to unbutton his jeans too, but before he could pull down the zipper, he’s stopped by his wrist.

“No-” You squeeze his arm tighter when you notice how close your hand is to his considerable bulge, “this is good.” Your voice gasps out of your mouth as you try to calm yourself down. He reluctantly drops his arms, silently waiting for you to make the next move, looking devastatingly good as he sits in front of you with his shirt hanging open.

You let your intrusive thoughts win and boldly place your hand on the left side of his chest, feeling the warm skin tense at your touch, heart beating rapidly. “Ok, this might be a little cold.” You warn before you replace your hand with the diaphragm of the stethoscope, gently pressing it against his chest. “Take a deep breath for me.” You whisper, trying to calm him down.

His eyes stay on your face as he breathes in, suddenly feeling like he’s getting an actual check-up. You listen closely, making sure there aren’t any irregular beats or murmurs. You move it slightly downwards, completely focused on the task at hand. “Again.” With the next deep breath, he notices how you breathe with him, shoulders moving in sync with his chest.

You back up without a word, putting the tool on the counter next to you with a satisfied sigh. Everything sounds good. “You’re so cute when you get all doctorly.” Ari interrupts your thoughts, looking at you with a sly smirk. You mentally facepalm yourself. You got so caught up in your usual routine that you forgot why he was here in the first place!

“Your, uh, heart sounds healthy so-”

“You know what, Doc? After deducting all these things through your tests, I think I can finally tell what’s bothering me.”

“Oh, what is it?” The hand on his thigh moves over to rub himself over his jeans, pulling a wretched groan from his throat. His blue eyes are locked on yours as your mouth gapes at the depraved sight.

“I’m so fucking hard, Doc,” Ari grips himself to emphasize his words, showing off every inch of his covered cock, “and I just can’t get it down. I need your help.” His eyes beg you to touch him, looking as distressed as he pretends to be.

“U-um, ok. Let’s take a look then.” You nervously stretch your gloves higher onto your wrists in anticipation as he starts to undo his jeans, the open sides of his shirt getting the way as he eagerly tugs his pants down. You let out an involuntary gasp as a hard cock slaps against his stomach, perfectly pink and ridiculously big.

He sees how your hand stutters as it approaches him, suddenly intimidated by the large man in front of you. Ari assists you by pulling your hand closer to him, wrapping his fingers over yours, demonstrating how tightly he wants you to hold him. When he lets go, you experimentally squeeze your hand around him, gaining a breathless gasp from his body.

“How does this feel?” Somehow your voice remains level as you ask the clinical question, eyes peeking at him through your lashes. The lustful gaze you send him makes him throb in your hand, encouraging you to continue your exploration. You gently run your gloved finger up his cock, teasingly tapping against his leaking head, mesmerized by the mess.

Both pairs of eyes watch as a string of precum sticks from his cock to the tip of your finger as you start to pull away. You let it fall to his thigh before lovingly rubbing it into his skin. He almost feels like he’s going to burst from the way you’re playing with him. “Mr. Levinson?” You hand his back around him, pumping him slowly as you try to catch his attention.

“Hm?” He looks up at you with confused eyes, completely oblivious to the topic of the conversation.

“I asked you how you’re feeling. I can’t help you if you don’t cooperate with me.” The professionalism in your voice directly contradicts how you are handling him, almost making him go blind as you continuously brush over the line where his head meets his shaft. You know what you’re doing.

“So good…” He groans out, barely able to tell what he’s saying.

You hum contentedly, dipping your hand lower to gently fondle his balls, knowing how sensitive they can be. You hold back a smile when he jolts in surprise and starts to shutter out uneven breaths.

It’s just so easy.

His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the bench under him, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Bringing up your other hand, you start to stroke him at the same time, holding him with more confidence as he melts against you. “H-holy ffu-” His stomach clenches as he holds himself back, thighs struggling to stay open around your clothed midriff.

His hair falls into his face as his head lolls forward, jaw clenched in concentration. You bite your lip as you watch him scramble to get a hold of himself, sloppy wet sounds spurring on the both of you. You speed up, determined to destabilize his efforts, needing to see this man break in your hands.

A warm hand wraps around your throat and yanks you forward. Your head is so hazy from the pressure on your neck that you can barely react when your lips meet his for a passionate kiss. Your tongues sloppily brush together as you languidly take in each other’s taste. Ari murmurs against your lips, “...like a dream.”

It’s dumb how flustered you get from his raspy voice. He nips your lip, drinking in your whimpers as he sucks at you until it’s nice and plump. You feel yourself drip when he soothes his work with little kitten licks against your mouth, refusing to dip back into your mouth.

You try to push toward him to get what you want, but he simply leans back with a cheeky grin, hand gently squeezing at your throat as a warning. “Keep goin’ honey.” You realize your movements ceased after the first breathtaking kiss.

You raise a challenging eyebrow, “Give me a kiss first.”

“Mmm…No, this isn’t how it works.”

“I’m the doctor– You’re supposed to do what I say!” You pout, pointedly letting him go. He rolls his eyes at your childish behavior and follows your actions, shoving his hand off your neck.

“Okay,” He pushes you away from him and hops off the bench. “You’ve had your fun. It’s my turn now.” He first grabs your wrists, hastily working off your gloves before dropping them on the floor. Your coat soon follows, carelessly thrown in the same direction.

Ari twirls you to face the bench, pushing his hips into yours to pin you forward. He bends you over the surface with ease, only stepping back for a moment to yank your pants over your ass and down your legs.

You feel pressure against your cunt as his fingers rub you over your panties, spreading your slick everywhere. “Look at that. Practically see-through with how drenched you got it.” You whine at his taunts, attempting to push back against him to feel more.

He moves his hand to hold onto your hair, firmly pushing your face into the paper-covered bench. He runs his other hand down your back before grabbing a large handful of your ass, groaning at how soft you feel under him.

He forgoes removing your underwear, preferring to just fuck you with your panties shoved to the side.

You feel him slide the tip of his cock up and down your folds, effectively getting himself slicked up in preparation. He experimentally dips in, appreciating the small amount of resistance your body shows him. The feeling of him pushing into you, stretching your cunt to his will, is indescribably overwhelming.

An involuntary moan is knocked out of you as he slowly slides in, causing him to wrap a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. You almost forgot where you were.

Each time you think he is all the way in, he just keeps going, sending you keeling as he prods against your walls. His hips fit snuggly against yours when he finally bottoms out, deliciously pressed against your cervix. He stays there for a second, letting you adjust to his size. “You ok?”

You’re deliriously trying to relax around him when you mewl out a half-hearted, “Great.”

He takes that response as a directive to move. You feel his soft lips press against your shoulder before he gently starts to rock himself into you, expertly hitting spots you didn’t even know you had.

He slightly bends his knees as he starts to speed up, fucking himself up into now. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the sound of your fucked out cunt fills the room, surrounding you through every thrust. The paper under you crinkles loudly, sticking to the undersides of your arms as you move around.

“Such a good little doctor,” His whispers are strained, trying to control himself while he’s buried in your tightness. He pushes your back down to angle your ass upwards to thrust impossibly deep inside you. “Letting me her holes as my medicine.” Your eyes prick with tears as he starts snapping his hips at a punishing pace. You can’t help the borderline sob that escapes you when he prods against your cervix, almost feeling him in your stomach.

The walls of your cunt start to tighten around him, throbbing insistently as he continues his vigorous thrusts. You felt it coming, but you weren’t expecting how intense it would be. Heat vibrates through your body as your vision whitens, disorienting all your senses at once. You could barely feel the way your whole body tenses, muscles straining in exhaustion.

“F-fuck, fuck, fuc—” After a couple of stuttered thrusts, Ari fully buries himself inside you before painting your walls with hot cum. You pant together, calming yourselves down before he slips out of you. Before any warm slick could run down your leg, he picks you up and sets you on the bench, grabbing a box of tissues to help clean you up.

“Thanks.” You shyly whisper it as he wipes you up.

He looks up at you with a dazzling smile, “Anytime…”

—

Bonus scene:

Ari lingers at the lion-painted door, fully clothed with his fingers gripping at the handle. He is silently hoping you will stop him before he leaves.

“Wait, Ari,” He hears you call out from behind him, “hold on a sec.” You blindly reach into your discarded white coat, pulling out a pen and one of your signature stickers.

You turn the golden star over and quickly scribble down your number onto the paper before holding it out to him. “Let me know if your condition gets better, ok?”

“Yes ma’am.” He dorkily salutes you before walking out the door with a grin.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #ari levinson x you #the red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #ari levinson smut #chris evans smut #ari levinson fluff #dad!ari #daddy ari #ari levinson fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

hongthoven · 2 months

Note

Hii!

I saw your requests are open, so I was wondering if I could request some cute and fluffy domestic stuff with Mingi? Or with Yunho even?

Or maybe Matz noticing that their s/o gets hate for being with the boys?

Whichever of these you are most comfortable 🥰

Hello ! 𖹭

Thank you for your request 𖹭 It isn't long and I haven't done fluff for a long while so pardon me if it doesn't fit your expectations, but here is a lil domestic!mingi imagine for you 𖹭 have a lovely day!

“Okay, think this is the last one” Mingi sighs, exhaustion in the tone of his voice as the last box drops to his feet with a loud thug — nothing too fragile, luckily, a bunch of books and random stationary stuff you couldn’t fit in any other boxes — and just like that, you are moving in with your boyfriend.

It still feels surreal to be standing there in what is now your new place with its two bedrooms and a lovely view over the park you like to walk across, sometimes stopping when the warmth of a late afternoon sun calls for a well-needed break, a good book and some snacks. Although the walls are still empty and furniture needs to be put together, everything already feels like home. Starting with the man pulling you against his chest, both his arms around you as his chin rests above your head with a content sigh.

“We did it, love— this is our home” the word hits you like thunder as you feel your heart grow twice its size at the sound of his voice, low and comforting as ever. Home. Precisely how you like to describe him. Through the highs and lows, over the many years you have spent together, Mingi has always felt like home to you, regardless of the place you would end up crashing to. No more ‘your place or mine’, no more missing him at night, no more waking up in the morning to find his side of the bed still cold and empty. All of this left in the past with nothing but a bright future ahead.

As you both stand here in silence for a while, Mingi is quick to notice the shivers running down your spine, coldness hitting your skin from moving around all day and only now taking the time for some well-needed rest. Without a word, you watch as your boyfriend takes off his hoodie, motions for you to lift both your arms up so he can easily wrap you into it. The comfort it brings you is beyond anything you ever felt before as you feel instantly tucked into the familiar smell of him, a perfect mix of his favorite fragrance —nothing too fancy but spicy enough to locate him in a crowded room— and the natural scent of his skin. Within seconds, his fingers find a nest into your hair, your messy bun now messier than ever and lower than it originally was as Mingi starts to massage your scalp softly, almost forcing you to doze off into his chest as you close your eyes for a while, soothed by the sound of his beating heart.

“Should we order dinner?” he asks as your stomach suddenly breaks the silence of the room with a brutal reminder of your last meal being hours away already.

“Kinda necessary— all we have is an empty fridge and warm soda in a box somewhere” you barely mumble into his chest as Mingi can’t help but chuckle at the laziness of your tone.

After a while, your boyfriend eventually convinces you to jump in the shower and get into some comfier clothes as he settles a few things in the living room. While the cabin feels much colder without him there, you cannot ignore how much more alive you feel as you step outside of the bathroom in your comfy clothes — one of Mingi’s oversized shirts, pretty much a dress for you, and sweatpants.

“You cannot be serious” you laugh at the sight of him already setting up his gaming corner, surrounded by empty boxes and the expected mess that comes with it, although you’re nowhere near mad at the nerdy boy you’ve been obsessed with since high-school. Nostalgia hits you suddenly as you recall the afternoons spent at his place, playing video games when you were both still too shy to openly flirt until he eventually found the courage to come forward and kiss you. This thought only is enough to give you butterflies as you stumble across the boxes and make your way towards the love of your life, settling between his legs as he sits on the floor, hands already busy with his controller.

“Table’s all set!” he chimes, almost too proudly as you grab a few fries from the take-away box to feed him first.

“Good job, I might have to marry you” although your words are filled with sarcasm, you cannot miss the way Mingi fails to flinch even a little, eyes still locked on the screen as if this isn’t new information to him in the slightest.

“Like you had other plans?” he jokes back, his lips twisting into a smirk while you spin just enough to meet his gaze, your own eyes filled with nothing but complete adoration.

“What you starin’ at, stalker?” you feel him chuckle against your back, his voice vibrating in perfect sync with his chest as you fight the urge to shut him up with a kiss — but when you don’t, Mingi’s attention drifts from the screen to your face, pausing the game as he leans forward to melt into your lips, his palm resting against your jaw as you soften under his touch, fingers tightly wrapped into his sweater in hope to keep this kiss going until you’re both left gasping for air.

“I fucking love you” Mingi barely growls against your lips, his teeth nibbling at your flesh while his fist wraps into your hair, deepening your embrace until your cheeks start to burn with the flames of your desire, only now increased with the idea of being home, at last.

#fic request #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #ateez imagine #mingi imagine #domestic mingi

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romance-rambles · 16 days

Text

319 ROSES AND A DATE

Alkaid gets asked on a date by the girl he desperately wanted to ask out, at least before he found out who the flowers were for. You'd like to maintain that nothing you said was a lie.

— pairing: [modern] alkaid mcgrath x little painter/you

— word count: 2.8k

— tags: takes place after alkaid's florist ending [everything else happens the same way, except alkaid's first meeting with mc happens after godheim], misunderstandings [not unrequited love], some angst

— note: i was moved to try and write a flower shop au at least once after godheim but destiny's call really helped me out. handed me everything on a gold platter and said, "go to town, aya."

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

ALKAID STARES DOWN BLANKLY AT the bouquet of white roses in his hands. At some point during his stunned silence, he had unwittingly taken them off yours, just as you had hoped for.

All 319 of them, to be precise—which is a number that, put in a different context, can also refer to 3/19, the day of his birth. Even with the limited capacity he has at the moment to sort out the events that led up to this moment, he can't help the way his heart flutters at the knowledge that you remembered, even though so much time has passed.

"Alkaid?" A gentle tap against his shoulder robs the flowers of their spotlight. "Do you...not like the flowers?"

He looks up and sees you, still here—still dressed so beautifully he's once more in danger of succumbing to asphyxiation, with a fretful expression that makes him wonder if he's already there. When he does not respond, you close the remaining distance between them, obscuring all else from his vision.

It is a problem only because he has nowhere left to run.

"No," he croaks out finally, leaning back over the counter to accommodate you.

Obliviously, you move closer, leaving him with no choice but to avert his gaze once more. Alkaid can only hope you aren't offended—that you don't think he finds you unattractive, with how often he does so. It's only that your beaming smile reminds him of what it feels like to stare down the sun.

"They're lovely."

Satisfied with his answer, you pull back. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your ponytail sways slightly, once more retreating behind your shoulder. There's an adorable star-shaped pin fastened onto the strap of your cross-body bag.

He sighs discretely, relieved, and pulls the bouquet up to his face as casually as he can. The petals, he hopes, will be enough to cover up the deep scarlet staining his cheeks.

"I'm glad!" You clap your hands together. "I was worried they wouldn't be to your liking. Maybe I should've asked you what your favorite flower was before I tried asking you out."

A self-deprecating laugh slips out as you scratch your cheek. An intricate design spans the length of your nail now—shades of red and green shaped into what he can clearly recognize as halves of a rose hugging the edges—against a black background.

Alkaid bites his lip, converting the interrupted gasp into a quiet exhale.

"You guessed right. I like white roses," he says, hoping desperately that his words are nothing less than reassuring. "Though they share that spot with lilies as well."

"Lilies," you repeat, a determined gleam in your lovely eyes. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He bites his lip harder.

THE MORNING HE'S DUE TO hand off your flowers, Alkaid finds himself contemplating the benefits of coffee behind the register.

Though his favorite concealer and his usual color corrector have done much to brighten up his undereyes, they can do little for the grogginess that comes with staying awake the whole night (Why such a specific number? Who are they for? Do you remember him at all?). And, by the time the clock strikes nine, he's already downed three cups of strongly-brewed tea.

What pushes him to finally break away from his usual preferences is a simple headache.

The store is empty, and there remains more than half an hour before you're set to arrive. A sharp twinge of pain in the side of his head as he stands up to check on your flowers draws out a careful hiss. Alkaid, with some amount of lingering hesitance, flips the sign on his door to closed, with a note explaining the rough length of absence. Then he walks out the door, his destination the artsy cafe across the street—the one that makes him think of you whenever he walks in.

Allen, the normally deadpan barista on duty, seems to shut down when Alkaid corrects him on his order. Soon, the news spreads to the rest of the employees, who take turns staring at him as he leaves with a warm thermos of coffee in his hands.

But, in the end, it proves to be an unnecessary trip.

You're already in front of his flower shop when he returns, half-crouched and studying the sign the way someone might study a work of abstract art. Today, too, you have a large, dark blue backpack slung over both your shoulders, its surface decorated with various pins and stickers—mostly of a cat, your cat, but also of a popular manga that you seem to like.

In Passing, that is.

It's about a love triangle featuring a tyrant emperor and a well-liked leader of the rebellion. Even without the reviews praising it for subverting expectations, Alkaid would've picked it up anyway.

He's on the third volume right now, and—

Hmm? His eyebrows furrow. Where did I leave it? In my bag?

All of a sudden, the sleep that had been so insistent on dragging his eyelids down vanishes. Alkaid wracks his brain desperately for the answers, stomach churning at the thought of you finding out about his latest reading material.

Unfortunately, you choose that moment to turn around.

"Oh, Alkaid!"

Your confused expression soon melts away, leaving behind only a cheerful smile. Tightening his grip on his thermos, he exhales silently, before flashing you a gentle smile.

"You're here." Time stops as you begin to approach him, your keychains singing a short jingle to accompany you. Your expression softens, as does your voice. "You didn't forget about me, right?"

Alkaid can only sputter out a half-coherent apology.

The words get drowned out by the insistent, purposeful beating of his heart. It's as if it wants to claw itself out of his chest and entrust itself to your hands, as it is, with shattered bones sticking out of it.

You laugh prettily, as always. "It's okay. I'm just joking."

Then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze falls upon your lips. A soft red, with a glossy sheen, one that matches the color of your skirt. On a plain canvas, it's all the more striking. It leaves him wondering about things he, currently a stranger, shouldn't be fretting over.

He's not sure how long he stares for, with slightly parted lips and a series of half-realized thoughts chiding at him to stop—only that it's not long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

Alkaid clears his throat, holding up his thermos (I should've bought her something too, he thinks) as an explanation. "I apologize for the wait. I went over to the cafe across the street."

"Coffee lover?" you guess, making room for him to open the door.

"I'm usually more of a tea person." As he slips inside the store, he can't help but chuckle self-consciously, remembering all the different ways he imagined this scene playing out. Naturally, his next words are nothing more than the most blatant lie he's ever told. "I thought I'd try something else for a change."

"Is it a nice place?" Upon seeing the puzzled look he sends over his shoulder, you clarify, "The cafe. I've seen the reviews, but I think only experience can beat the testimony of someone you know."

He considers your question for a moment. "The staff is very friendly. I often stop by during lunch for their sandwiches."

"I see..." you murmur.

"I think you'd like it," Alkaid blurts out as he slips in behind the register, happy to note that his copy of Volume 3 is, in fact, in his bag. "The owner enjoys collecting art—there's a lot of different paintings all over the cafe. Um, since you're an art major."

"Well, now I have to try it out." You don't seem particularly startled that he knows about your major; instead, you take to drawing patterns across the wooden countertop. He thinks he sees the familiar curve of an A. "The cookies you recommended last time were really great too."

When he keeps his silence, the complete opposite of what the state of his mind currently is (she remembers?), you look up.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your once smiling expression. "Do I have the wrong person? You're Alkaid, right? From that time in the snow mountains?"

He forces himself to nod, but that too is enough.

A shy smile blossoms on your lips, paired with both a brief flash of relief flitting through your gaze and the slight, almost imperceptible widening of your eyes. Placing your hands above your heart, you sigh exaggeratedly.

"You had me worried for a moment," you say. Your eyelashes cast a dark shadow on your undereyes. "I thought we'd never meet again."

For a moment, he wonders if there's more to your sorrow than you let on. Does it have anything to do with the way you disappeared? Somewhere so far away that no one could reach you at all?

Alkaid shakes off his thoughts.

"But we did," he responds carefully. I never thought we'd meet again either, he does not say instead. "Whether it was destiny, whether it was just a coincidence, we did. All we can do is make the most of it."

A tinge of sadness mars your lovely smile. "I think that sounds lovely."

SOON AFTER THEIR REUNION, DONE properly this time, down to exchanging numbers, Alkaid excuses himself to go fetch your flowers. When he returns, lovesick heart brimming with curiosity over the recipient's identity once more, he finds you've returned to doodling on the counter.

"Here they are, 319 white roses," he announces.

There's a blank expression on your face when you look up. Slowly, as recognition dawns upon you, it melts away to something bitter and rough. Its jagged edges dig into his his heart, leaving a paralyzing mix of sadness and longing to wash over him.

And then—

"Thank you," you say, and take the flowers off his hand.

His hand twitches, yearning for the camera he still keeps in his backpack, for the days where he feels like memorializing something instead. Lovely is the only word he has to describe you as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and pull the bouquet close with a faint smile.

Then, you close your eyes, and you inhale deeply. Once more, you are somewhere else—somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach.

"Ah, sorry." You crack one eye open. Now, the bouquet is clutched against your chest, but your sadness remains. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. I don't know if he'll like the flowers."

He? From some far corner of his mind, he recalls the image of your guardian. A tall man, with long silver hair and a pleasant, but guarded expression. Cael, he thinks is the name.

"For your guardian?" Alkaid inquires.

Your smile drops entirely at the mention of your guardian. A complicated series of emotions flash in your gaze, soon averted to one of the potted plants at the display. Scratching your cheek, you offer him a polite laugh.

Today, only some of your nails are a plain black. The rest remain bare.

"No, it's not for Cael." You answer carefully. "Actually—"

Looking down at the flowers, you take a deep breath. When next you speak, your voice has reclaimed the softness it'd shown him earlier—your searching gaze as well. You leave him with the truth, imparting it onto him like a mischievous secret.

"There's someone I'd like to ask out."

His stomach drops, and you leave him with the memory of lovelorn smile, forever imprinted behind his eyelids.

"I hope he says yes."

[3:00 PM] you: Alkaid, do you have any plans tonight?

[3:17 PM] alkaid: No, I'm free

[3:21 PM] alkaid: Did something happen?

[3:22 PM] you:

[3:22 PM] you: I haven't asked him out yet. Gonna do it soon

[3:23 PM] you: All of my other friends are busy rn.

[3:24 PM] you: Is it okay if I stop by after you close up shop?

[3:24 PM] you: I'd want to talk to someone about it

[4:31 PM] alkaid: Of course

SOMEHOW, ALKAID MANAGES TO GET through the rest of the day.

His heart is held together haphazardly with duct tape and carefully-placed staples, though their efforts are thwarted constantly by a popular refrain (You hardly know him. Of course there's someone else.), and he's one stubbed toe away from being reduced to tears, but he manages. Somehow.

He swallows down his what-ifs and maybes and waits, watching the hands on his wristwatch inch ever closer to six in the evening. And eventually, the vaguely promised time arrives.

As he's stepping out from behind the register, a familiar chime echoes cuts through the silence. Alkaid looks up and sees you, dressed still in red and black, your turtleneck and skirt swapped out for a knee-length dress.

"Hi."

The bouquet of white roses—held in both hands, a stark contrast to the black leather jacket you're wearing—covers up its neckline. You smile sheepishly at him, pulling at the mesh of your bright red skirt to mimic a curtsy.

You're beautiful. Even the flowers surrounding them pale in comparison. Even the aurora they'd seen together pales in comparison. You rob him of his breath and leave gasping for a reprieve, but so long as he keeps his memory in even the smallest capacity, that's simply impossible.

The familiar knife called jealousy stabs into his heart, leaving him keenly aware of his longing. He averts his gaze, but the damage has already been done. You are beautiful, and he has waited years to see you.

"Hi." Alkaid swallows uncomfortably, as the sound of your footsteps draws closer. In a panic, his hands brace themselves against the edge of the counter. "Was something wrong with the flowers? I thought—"

A mysterious expression sits upon your features when you pull his gaze onto you, seemingly oblivious to your magnetic power.

With a deep breath, you thrust the flowers at him, knuckles brushing against his chest. You pull back for a moment, taking your flowers with you, and the soft coral of your blush makes it difficult to discern whether you find yourself a victim the of same scarlet blooming across his cheeks.

"That's—" You cough politely. There's a heart-shaped pendant dangling from your golden necklace. The dress is either strapless or your jacket has covered up the straps. "—what I'm here to find out."

Alkaid tilts his head. His confused gaze darts across his surroundings and stops at the glass window of the store's display, thinking perhaps that your mystery boy might be outside. But while the streets are not barren, there is no one outside his store.

You say his name in the same way you told him your secret. Like it's something precious. Like it's something you love. And the truth begins to settle into his bones with a finality that deafens the half-coherent puzzle pieces he's been trying to fit together—he is the only one you could possibly ask out in this empty store.

He has no choice but to look back. At you, and the bouquet you're offering him.

"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"

AND THAT IS HOW HE finds himself with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his lip. He doesn't mind, not when the sting he feels as he wets his lip reminds him that this is not, in fact, a dream (It feels like it though, he thinks), nor a fantasy.

"You...you don't have a girlfriend, do you? It's been a while since then..."

You rub your arm lightly, muttering about something he can't understand, and what else is Alkaid meant to do but take your hand? He squeezes it gently, tickled to find that he can return the favor for all the times you've stolen his breath away.

Your lips part slightly, but whatever you hoped to say does not leave the confines of your mysterious mind. Instead, you draw some of your hair from both sides over your flushed cheeks.

"Nothing like that," he reassures, smiling gently at you. "I'm just surprised. I didn't realize you were talking about me."

"That's a reli—what." In a single moment, your voice goes from girlishly breathless to an irritated flat. Releasing your hair, you blink uncomprehendingly at him. "How?"

Watching you descend into another muttered ramble, Alkaid shrugs. "If you'd still like that date..."

You whip your head in his direction. "Then it's a date!"

The first time he met you, it was when you had fished out of the snow and offered him a warm drink to fight off the cold. They had talked about miscellaneous things, from your half-hearted desire to request a camera for your birthday to who could make the better model between them both.

And back then, he had thought to himself that there was no sound more beautiful than your laugh.

Almost four years after the fact, as he watches you giggle, Alkaid can confidently say his past self had the right idea. Such a specific title leaves him with room to declare your follow-up smile to be just as breathtaking.

#fics by aya #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #alkaid mcgrath #alkaid mcgrath x reader #lovebrush alkaid #lovebrush alkaid x reader #lbc alkaid #lbc alkaid x reader #little painter #rambles from here on ->#i feel like lars has the common sense not to act like a ceo in a manhwa but i really do think cael would think this is fine #i feel like he'd probably be like “this is the least i can do”#that said i am curious if mc paid for those flowers with her own money?? is her mom rich too #i feel like she'd still be funded by lars (because fan) LOL he also coached her on how to ask alkaid out it's the blind leading the blind #should i write mc's pov too LOL #this was just supposed to be silly little misunderstandings and now there's ANGST and BACKSTORY and MORE ANGST

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