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#only young people deserves to fall in love i see
eatsbop · a month ago
You're gonna get so cancelled one day, big bro and so will I with my love for samuel and jake..... Love is a terrible thing.
They should cancel us now before we get too powerful. Cowards, all of you yall all.
I'll prepare our apology posts. Don't worry.
I am sorry. I did not mean to type my thirst out loud but my finger slipped while I was looking at this man's tiddy. Stop coming to the internet. I cannot believe yall survived this long out here. I'm so sorry for you.
*gets shot* ❤
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husbandohunter · 4 months ago
A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]
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Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo
Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.
(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~
Oh here's part 2
• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"
• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter. 
• Its payback time  Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.
• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).
• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.
• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).
• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!" 
• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum
• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?
• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.
• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk  while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.
• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.
• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.
• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.
• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"
• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.
• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now. 
• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.
• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).
• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)
• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."
• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.
• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)
• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.
• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed).  He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)
• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~
Small (aka Xiao)
• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)
• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'
• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.
• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.
• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture). 
• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.
• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)
• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.
• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.
• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.
• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)
• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.
• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout  never take a form of a child.
• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.
• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique. 
• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.
• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.
• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.
• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all. 
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chanelfaerie · 6 months ago
hii! i recently saw on tiktok that elizabeth olsen lets chris write on her arm when he's feeling anxious during press so could i please request a chris evans x reader where the reader takes elizabeth's place and chris starts falling in love with the reader thanks to their help??
butterflies ⟶ chris evans
pairing: chris evans x reader
summary: chris has got butterflies for you—do you feel the same?
warnings: little bit of angst, mentions of anxiety, age-gap, really bad ending
a/n: hi!! thank u so much for sending this in, the thought of chris dealing with anxiety IS CONSTANTLY breaking my heart...i mean everyone has it but like our chris 🥺 he doesn’t deserve to feel like that!!
the following work is my own writing. do not plagairise or copy and paste my works onto another platform. message me about credit.
⊱ ────── {⋅. ☽ .⋅} ────── ⊰
sharpie ink is cold and sends a burning sensation over your skin, staining it so dark that even warm water and soap won’t wash it away, but when chris is drawing small butterflies on your forearm, it’s impossible to tell him to stop. his eyes are focused, not on the reporters shoving microphones and questions in his face, but on the small doodles he illustrated. “they could be tattoos,” he’d joke, with his tongue sticking out between his lips.
you would reply with a “maybe, chris” because the idea of a permanent picture on your skin. but unbeknownst to you, chris was serious.
robert, scarlett, and even mark had offered to help soothe his anxiety during nerve-racking moments. a few interviews had gone haywire, he’d even left a premiere in japan early, and no one had the ability to calm him down. except you. something about the way you spoke, the way you embraced him and held him in a tight hug, gently shushing him if a tear managed to escape. at first, no one else could see it.
but chris was in love. there had been countless sketches over your arms, wrists, hands, and any other bare spots that were easily accessible to chris. it had just been a friendly offer when you noticed the anxious look on his face during a press conference, and he had absentmindedly taken a sharpie to your forearm. “uh, chris?” you’d questioned, noticing that his strange actions were gathering the attention of your castmates and the audience in front of you. he’d brushed it off with his much-appreciated charm and people thought nothing of it. chris had later apologized when returning to your hotel rooms, enlightened to hear you say, “honestly, chris, if you ever need anything--including drawing on my arm,” he chuckled. “it’s alright. i’m here.”
it was not in his intentions to ‘catch feelings’. he felt immature, childish, and unprofessional to fall for his younger costar, but you were persistent on the drawings. eventually, it had even turned into holding and squeezing your hands underneath tables, but you seemed so unbothered by it he wondered if feelings were reciprocated. 
“she’s totally hot for you,” robert had joked in a hotel room one night. he had a glass of water in his hand while chris held a beer bottle, but he’d been so busy thinking about if you loved him back, he’d hardly taken a sip. yet somehow, both men were slurring their words. “but remember, man, if you go for her, people are gonna talk about it. she’s, at least, what...ten years younger than you? at least.” 
chris wasn’t being his normally chipper and talkative self. instead, he leaned back quietly on his bed and attempted to joke, “thanks for making me feel young again.”
the next day, he tried to restrain himself from anymore drawings or hand-squeezes. no more contact with you--it’d only have his heart shaking in his rib cage and he’d be falling head over heels for your all over again. unfortunately, and much to his dismay, he’d failed. all it took was one glance at you, and chris felt woozy in his stomach. your hair had been styled so perfectly, the color of your dress complimented your complexion so sweetly, and when your eyes met his, he only then noticed the smallest flecks of gold in them.
after countless interviews spent with either extremely rude or boring journalists, whose questions harshly peered into the privacy of you, chris, and your castmates, you noticed a sadly familiar look in chris’ eye. you popped open the lid from a permanent ink marker and watched as chris snatched it from your hand to scribble tiny doodles on your skin.
chris drew exactly what he was feeling. a small birdcage containing large butterflies too big to fit through the cracks to escape. they rattled around the metal, a clanking noise echoing through his rib cage with every beat of his heart. his tongue peeked through his lips, and with every stroke of the sharpie, a masterpiece was created on your skin. but, despite his adorable gaze that you noticed in the corner of your eye, you continued to speak with interviewers and answer their questions, almost disregarding chris’ presence.
little did he know, however, you’d given him permanent ink so that when you went to sleep that night, wishing he was in bed with you, you could look down at the drawing he’d made for you and imagine chris was yours.
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duckiereads · 5 months ago
Read these 10 YA books by Trans Authors instead of HP
There's a rule I have (that I took from author Emery Lee) that says that every time someone mentions JKR, I have to rec 2 books by trans authors. Here are some of my favorite YA recs if you ever felt like adapting the same rule in your friend groups.
As always, the pictures and jacket copy are from publishers’ sites! If they didn’t have info available, I used info from author sites! :)
If any of these interest you and if you are able, please support your favorite independent bookstores when purchasing these and other books!
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Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee
Emery's book isn't out until 05/04/21, but because I saw this rule from em, I couldn't NOT rec eir book!
Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe. When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page. In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script.
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Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender
Felix Love has never been in love—and, yes, he’s painfully aware of the irony. He desperately wants to know what it’s like and why it seems so easy for everyone but him to find someone. What’s worse is that, even though he is proud of his identity, Felix also secretly fears that he’s one marginalization too many—Black, queer, and transgender—to ever get his own happily-ever-after. When an anonymous student begins sending him transphobic messages—after publicly posting Felix’s deadname alongside images of him before he transitioned—Felix comes up with a plan for revenge. What he didn’t count on: his catfish scenario landing him in a quasi–love triangle.... But as he navigates his complicated feelings, Felix begins a journey of questioning and self-discovery that helps redefine his most important relationship: how he feels about himself. Felix Ever After is an honest and layered story about identity, falling in love, and recognizing the love you deserve.
TW for a forced outing.
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Pet by Akwaeke Emezi
There are no monsters anymore, or so the children in the city of Lucille are taught. Jam and her best friend, Redemption, have grown up with this lesson all their life. But when Jam meets Pet, a creature made of horns and colors and claws, who emerges from one of her mother’s paintings and a drop of Jam’s blood, she must reconsider what she’s been told. Pet has come to hunt a monster, and the shadow of something grim lurks in Redemption’s house. Jam must fight not only to protect her best friend, but also to uncover the truth, and the answer to the question–How do you save the world from monsters if no one will admit they exist? Acclaimed novelist Akwaeke Emezi makes their riveting and timely young adult debut with a book that asks difficult questions about what choices you can make when the society around you is in denial.
TW for discussions about child abuse.
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Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas
Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can't get rid of him. When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his true gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free. However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school's resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He's determined to find out what happened and tie off some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.
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Deep and Darkest Red by Anna-Marie McLemore
Summer, 1518. A strange sickness sweeps through Strasbourg: women dance in the streets, some until they fall down dead. As rumors of witchcraft spread, suspicion turns toward Lavinia and her family, and Lavinia may have to do the unimaginable to save herself and everyone she loves. Five centuries later, a pair of red shoes seal to Rosella Oliva’s feet, making her dance uncontrollably. They draw her toward a boy who knows the dancing fever’s history better than anyone: Emil, whose family was blamed for the fever five hundred years ago. But there’s more to what happened in 1518 than even Emil knows, and discovering the truth may decide whether Rosella survives the red shoes.
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Who I Was with Her by Nita Tyndall
There are two things that Corinne Parker knows to be true: that she is in love with Maggie Bailey, the captain of the rival high school's cross-country team and her secret girlfriend of a year, and that she isn't ready for anyone to know she's bisexual. But then Maggie dies, and Corinne quickly learns that the only thing worse than losing Maggie is being left heartbroken over a relationship no one knows existed. And to make things even more complicated, the only person she can turn to is Elissa—Maggie's ex, and the single person who understands how Corinne is feeling. As Corinne struggles to make sense of her grief and what she truly wants out of life, she begins to have feelings for the last person she should fall for. But to move forward after losing Maggie, Corinne will have to learn to be honest with the people in her life...starting with herself.
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Between Perfect & Real by Ray Stoeve
*This book comes out April 27, 2021 but I'm excited enough about it that I'll share it a week before it comes out.
Dean Foster knows he’s a trans guy. He’s watched enough YouTube videos and done enough questioning to be sure. But everyone at his high school thinks he’s a lesbian—including his girlfriend Zoe, and his theater director, who just cast him as a “nontraditional” Romeo. He wonders if maybe it would be easier to wait until college to come out. But as he plays Romeo every day in rehearsals, Dean realizes he wants everyone to see him as he really is now––not just on the stage, but everywhere in his life. Dean knows what he needs to do. Can playing a role help Dean be his true self?
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Can't Take That Away by Steven Salvatore
An empowering and emotional debut about a genderqueer teen who finds the courage to stand up and speak out for equality when they are discriminated against by their high school administration. Carey Parker dreams of being a diva, and bringing the house down with song. They can hit every note of all the top pop and Broadway hits. But despite their talent, emotional scars from an incident with a homophobic classmate and their grandmother's spiraling dementia make it harder and harder for Carey to find their voice. Then Carey meets Cris, a singer/guitarist who makes Carey feel seen for the first time in their life. With the rush of a promising new romantic relationship, Carey finds the confidence to audition for the role of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, in the school musical, setting off a chain reaction of prejudice by Carey's tormentor and others in the school. It's up to Carey, Cris, and their friends to defend their rights--and they refuse to be silenced. Told in alternating chapters with identifying pronouns, debut author Steven Salvatore's Can't Take That Away conducts a powerful, uplifting anthem, a swoony romance, and an affirmation of self-identity that will ignite the activist in all of us.
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Peter Darling by Austin Chant
Ten years ago, Peter Pan left Neverland to grow up, leaving behind his adolescent dreams of boyhood and resigning himself to life as Wendy Darling. Growing up, however, has only made him realize how inescapable his identity as a man is. But when he returns to Neverland, everything has changed: the Lost Boys have become men, and the war games they once played are now real and deadly. Even more shocking is the attraction Peter never knew he could feel for his old rival, Captain Hook—and the realization that he no longer knows which of them is the real villain.
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The Bone Witch by Rin Chupeco
L E T   M E   B E   C L E A R : I never intended to raise my brother from his grave, though he may claim otherwise. If there’s anything I’ve learned from him in the years since, it’s that the dead hide truths as well as the living.
When Tea accidentally resurrects her brother from the dead, she learns she is different from the other witches in her family. Her gift for necromancy means that she’s a bone witch, a title that makes her feared and ostracized by her community. But Tea finds solace and guidance with an older, wiser bone witch, who takes Tea and her brother to another land for training. In her new home, Tea puts all her energy into becoming an asha—one who can wield magic. But dark forces are approaching quickly, and in the face of danger, Tea will have to overcome her obstacles…and make a powerful choice.
And that wraps up this week's list! What books by trans authors are you excited about? Any recs for me?
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introloves · 7 months ago
mini masterpost of thirsts and asks answered on my second account, this is all talk of dilf bokuto thanks to @miyababi <3
dilf! bokuto + daddy! bokuto + heavy breeding + overstimulation + size kink + creampie + exhibitionism + wifey! reader + f! reader
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@miyababi: jax i need someone to talk abt dilf bo with please there is so little dilf content im sobbing
look,, dilf bokuto who’s older and he’s in his prime age, silver scruff of hair... just barely there on his chin... plsssss hes so big... maybe not as lean as he was when he was in his twenties... still a wall of muscle but he’s softened out a little... oh my god his forearms would be so fucking think and his BICEPS.... oh my god oh my god he would probably get to a good 220 pounds by the time he’s thirty because his sweet girlfriend always makes him such good food.. he would never leave a scrap on his plate... dilf bokuto who only knows how to breed his girl...
anon: My head is empty... all I can think about is dilf bo and his big meaty man hands pinching my nipples I-
OOPPPP PLSS,, his thick hand just palming at your tits whenever he wants,, he’s so smiley and basically purrs when you make a noise- a gasp or squeak of pleasure...
oh god,,, dilf bokuto with a higher libido than when he was in his twenties... oh god,,, dilf bokuto with the meanest and biggest breeding kink- he literally cannot stop cuming inside you, it’s a feral drive and base neeed to see you fat and round with his kids..
dilf bokuto with big swollen balls that ache to just cum inside you constantly....
🍧 anon: dilf bokuto and you at a cookout with all your friends but he can’t keep his hands off you. he’s always got an arm around your waist or shoulders and he can’t stop subtly groping your ass and tits... everytime you giggle “kou, we’re in public!” and push him away he just has to fight the urge to push you onto his lap and take care of his hard on cause “it’s your clothes! i can’t help that my wife looks so cute in a pretty sundress. c’mon baby, let’s just go home early!” if you say no he’ll just stand behind you the rest of the day, you can feel his strong arms and softer stomach pressed against you (just as much as you can feel his cock pushing through his jeans) and it leaves you squirming. but if you say yes...
OHOH,, please, everyone just keeps a side eye towards the two of you, seeing such a big man dwarf his cute wife- hands happily resting on your tummy as he sways back and forth, it’s innocent at first, basking in how much he loves you, but he can’t help it... his wife deserves to be bred, deserves to have his cock stuff her wherever, whenever,, if you say yes he stands you in the corner,, maybe it’s dark out and his friends have drank enough to forget about you two... but he still pins you to a fence or wall and fucks you,,, back towards everyone cause even if he’s shameless... he wouldn’t want what belongs to him to be ogled freely... you’re his wife- he’s just doing what a good husband would do, taking care of you...
bo.kinnie: Big daddy Bokuto. I have been thinking about him all day. More specifically I've been thinking how that the man has no idea how to unclasp a bra? The first time he ripped off your bra you were like damn my man is ripped. Then the next few times you thought oh he's just really horny and ths fabric is in the way. But then as you're buying new bras for like the millionth time you begin to question it.
THIS IS SO,,, YES THIS IS PRACTICALLY CANON... like the first time he’s so amped up- hearing that sweet name fall from your lips, it makes him feral... eagerly pawing at the pads- hand shaky in pure excitment cause fuck you just called him daddy- he needs to fuck you right now.
so he tugs, one harsh pull down, the straps not having any chance against his muscles, and when he sees you gasp, he thinks you might like it.
he’s unapologetic about it, if you ever ask him once you’re fed up about having to buy new ones over and over he just smiles and places a hand to his neck and kisses you- letting you know that he was too embarrassed to tell you, teases that you get so fucking wet when he tears them off, saying you liked it anyways.
bo.kinnie: Oh god dilf bokuto. Y'all are killing me. He's older he's more mature. It's not about high energy pornstar sex anymore. He will slowly eat you out making sure you feel soooo good. Like his stamina is still there he can still fuck you for hours. But it's all about you now. And with that dad bod there's just more to grab onto as you try to remain conscious while he breeds you. Also dilf bo by this time knows how to unclasp a bra but still refuses to do so because it makes you gush everytime he does it. Dilf bo also has the moneys to finance all your bra shopping needs, but insists you just free the nipple to make it easier for the both of you.
trying to remain conscious as he breeds you... oh my god... oh my god- i’m going to cry from the sheer horniness..
it’s always brutal... his weight crushing down onto you, says he can’t fuck you any other way.. you just have to be good and take it while he breeds you. it’s not like you would have offered to switch positions either, you love his weight, love the fact that this way you can feel his cockhead brush against the deepest parts of you, he just tries to keep you nice and complacent, coos at how good his little wife is doing for him,,, taking such a big man like him... calling you his good girl for always letting your cunt be used for his cum...
@miyababi: omg soft dilf bo thought,,, he never understands what they mean when his wifes friends joke abt the other women and young adult girls who give him googly eyes bc hes never thought about anyone but his wife bc shes his whole world :(
YEAH HES WIPED FOR HIS WIFEY, YOUR HIS BIGGEST PRIDE!! LOVES YOU SO DEARLY, when people say he only has eyes for you.. they mean it and it’s the truest thing they can say... pls
🌱 anon: omfg dilf bo absolutely LOVING that you're his wife, makes you repeat it over and over when he fucks you- pls like he's fucking the shit out of you and he just suddenly stops and goes "tell me who you belong to" and you kinda just slur our "you~ my big nd strong husband, I'm your little wife" and he just loses his mind every time and somehow fucks you even harder
it’s not desperation but near aggression when he tells you to say it- asking you with a low voice while he’s folded you down onto the bed, pinning you nice and tight against him and the mattress, growls it out with fervor, needs you to remind him and everyone who’s close enough to hear who you belong to.
it takes a moment for your thoughts to catch the request, but when you blink back the stupefied haze hes put you in, it’s easy to indulge him,
“y-you! ‘m yours koutarou! i’m your w-wife! i’m your wife!” you sob, feeling the mess of slick and creaminess hes fucked out of you run down the seam of your ass, thanks to him not moving.
bokuto could hear it tumble from your lips over and over, and he’s still not prepared for the way it affects him. with a shaky exhale he fucks into you once more. watching from the corner of his eyes how your feet dangle helplessly, hooked against his arms...
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navybrat817 · 6 months ago
Play Well with Others
Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: Steve has a thing for his best friend’s girl...and he knows it. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, feels 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own. This is my first attempt at anything involving mafia/mob and it’s mainly just feels and smut! Moodboard by @dreamslikeaheartbeat.  @buckyownsmylife I feel like you would appreciate this.  If you’re looking for great mafia fics, check out @angrythingstarlight. And @tuiccim​ has a great series of Steve wanting Bucky’s girl. Enjoy, lovelies! 
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Steve Rogers would do just about anything for Bucky Barnes. They always looked out for one another and had since they were young boys. As they rose in the ranks, their loyalty to each other kept them alive. Neither of them had forgotten that. And coming into his own made Bucky proud. 
People no longer picked on him because of his size. Those who tried to cross them figured out quickly why they were in charge of the city. Captain and Winter. The nicknames somehow made people fear them more. They were part of the power that helped them stay on top. It wasn't an easy life, but they were content. Until you showed up.
Bucky was no longer content. He was happy. Only the closest in the circle saw the change when you were around. And Steve was...jealous. At first he thought he was jealous of the bond you forged with his best friend. At the end of the day, he still had feelings and didn't want to be replaced. He felt like an ass because you were nothing but kind to him.
Over time, he realized he was actually jealous of Bucky. He found someone who not only accepted his life, even when it frightened you, but loved him as he was. Not only that, you were an amazing woman. You kept up with Tony's wit and humor, looked out for Peter and even managed to charm Loki at the last meeting.
He fell for you, even when he tried so hard not to. You were his best friend's girl. His best and only girl. Guilt ate at him when he imagined what it would feel like to have you wrapped around his cock or to look at him with the same devotion you showed Bucky. He would get over it in time and no one would ever know. 
After Steve shook the thoughts of you away, he checked his watch. He had to discuss the next shipment with Bucky and he was never late for his meetings. He smoothed out his shirt as he stopped at the double doors, not registering the noise at first as he walked in.
"Bucky, please. Please!" you cried.
Steve froze, his jaw open in a stunned expression. It wasn't the first time the Captain caught his partner with a dame, but it was the first time he had seen you. And since you, Winter hadn't taken another woman.
You had a death grip on the desk as Bucky roughly fucked you. Your dress was pushed up around your tempting hips and Bucky was still in his suit. Like he couldn't wait to have you. How he wasn't buried in you all day long, he didn't know. 
Seeing you blissed out was something he would think about when he went to bed that night and many nights after. And Bucky wasn't done with you. Not with the way he thrust, his metal hand keeping you in place to make you take it. 
"Please what, doll? I don't think he heard you."
You made a choked sound as you managed to lift your head, a matching stunned expression on your beautiful face. He couldn't look away, his feet glued to the floor. He knew he should leave. But he didn't exactly want to.
"Bucky…" you whined, looking over your shoulder.
"Have a seat, Steve. Now."
Bucky was a man of few words when it came to dealings and other matters. So when he spoke, everyone listened. Willing himself to walk, he took a few steps toward his desk.
"No," Bucky said calmly, not breaking his stride as he nodded to the chair in front of his own front of you. "Best seat in the house."
He swallowed, each step more painful than the last. The tent in his pants had to be obvious to you. Or were you so drunk on Bucky's cock to truly notice him?
Bucky smirked when he sat down, trying to get comfortable. "There we go. Why don't we give him a real show?"
Clarity filled your eyes momentarily as your hips were pulled back, moaning as Bucky pounded you. His hand still stayed on your upper back, the action forcing you to stay look right at Steve. He fell in love all over again.
"He likes you, doll. Did you know that?"
"No," you moaned and it was an honest answer. Not once had you ever lied to them. You also weren't cruel. You wouldn't taunt or throw his feelings in his face.
"I know," he cooed, looking down as he sank into you. "No one else knew...but I did."
Steve felt like he was back in the alley getting punched in the stomach. Of course, he knew. They knew each other so well. How did he think he could hide that? And why didn't he hate him for it?
"Bucky…" he tried, but his eyes were on you. Even with the guilt, he was half tempted to take his cock out and shove it in your inviting mouth. Would you like the taste of him? Would you choke on him?
"He needs to see that you're mine. Tell him. Tell him you're mine."
He had never known Bucky to be possessive, but things were different with you. He would have felt the same way if you were his girl. 
"I'm yours," you moaned, your eyes filled with pleasure. The desk almost shook from the force. 
Steve couldn't find it in himself to be angry at the words. He had no right because they were the truth. And watching you like this, in the throes of ecstasy, was a gift. His own private porno. 
"But I'm generous. Maybe one day I'll let him fuck you."
Was he serious? He didn't dare show anything on his face, even as he twitched in his pants. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted to worship every inch of you. He wanted to make you come with his name on your lips.
"You like that idea, doll? Fuck, you got so tight around me. Trying to milk my cock."
"I just...fuck!" you cried
"You want me," Steve thought as he watched, his breathing heavier. It wasn't a cocky thought, but a hopeful one. He wished he could reach out and touch your cheek, to keep that gorgeous gaze on him. Bucky was generous to give him this, even though this was to send him a message. 
"You wanna come? Show him gorgeous you look when I make you lose it?"
"Please, Bucky, make me come!"
"Come on my cock and show him you're mine."
Watching as you came apart at the seams almost made him come, your cry making him visibly shiver. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever had the honor of viewing. He would have to thank Bucky later. If his friend didn't put a gun to his head.
"That's it. Fuck, so good. Fluttering around me the way I like it."
"Please," you mumbled.
Bucky grunted, his hips pumping hard before stilling. He leaned down to bury his face in your neck, moaning as he finished. Steve didn't realize he was gripping the chair until he flexed his hands. He feared if he moved, he really would make a mess in his pants. He deserved that discomfort.
"I've got you, doll," Bucky whispered as he pulled out of you, moving to sit so he could hold you. 
Your eyes were only half open, but the soft smile you gave Steve made his heart twist. It was a smile that could bring the world to their knees. That was exactly what you did to him and Bucky. It was also a smile that said whatever this wasn't over.
"Love you," Bucky swore, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze.
"Love you, too," you whispered.
Hearing that didn't hurt as much as it normally did, but seeing him kiss you like that was dizzying. There was tenderness there that no one else would ever feel. The hands covered in blood time and time again held you like you were the most cherished creature in the universe. It hit square in the chest that Bucky's devotion to you would never die. 
The blonde opened his mouth to speak when the kiss ended, but Bucky held his hand up. You tucked yourself against his chest, not saying anything else. No one spoke for a few minutes, even as you drifted off in his lap. The tension rose with each second that passed.
"You planned this?" he finally asked to break the silence.
"I did. I can't have anyone thinking they can just take her from me," he said, kissing the top of your head. "That includes you, Stevie."
Steve let out the breath he was holding. Malice didn't exist in his friend's tone and there was no anger in his eyes. "I don't want to take her from you. I don't," he promised. He couldn't do that. "I'm sorry."
Bucky nodded after a moment. "We can't always control how we feel. And I know you don't want to take her from me. I can see that now."
"She's just…"
"Easy to fall in love with."
Steve nodded. "You're very lucky."
"I am," he agreed. "If I were to share down the would only be with you."
Steve couldn't believe his ears. He thought the earlier statement was just dirty talk. "You would…You would really do that?" he asked above a whisper.
"Yeah, punk," he smiled gently. "But that would be a mutual discussion and decision. She isn't a toy or prize and I refuse to let her get hurt. And if she says no, that's the end of it."
There was pride in his tone. You were their equal, always. "Of course. She comes first."
"That's usually the case," he smirked, pulling you closer. "Now...let's talk about that shipment."
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faintblueivy · a year ago
So Imagine...
A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 
Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.
One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 
They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.
She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 
Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 
He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.
“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.
His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 
Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 
Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 
There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.
Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.
And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.
“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.
“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.
“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.
After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 
Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.
Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 
Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.
And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  
When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 
Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 
Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.
Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    
She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 
“What happened here?”
“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 
“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 
Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”
“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”
“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 
Martha has been told what she needs to know. 
“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”
Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.
“I want to say something.”
He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 
Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.
Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.
“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”
After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 
She offers him her hand.
He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.
And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 
Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 
It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 
She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 
The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.
This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.
“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"
Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.
The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 
Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.
A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 
He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 
The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 
Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.
Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 
Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.
“You...Love. Love you...”
The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.
A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 
Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 
Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.
“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 
“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.
“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”
Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by, it is certainly worth hearing for. 
Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 
“How may I help you?”
Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 
“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.
She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   
“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”
Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 
Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”
“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”
She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 
“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.
“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”
Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”
She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 
Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 
“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”
When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.
That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.
Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.
The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 
Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.
Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 
Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.
As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 
Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.
These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 
Would he accept them? As family? 
Would he love them? As family? 
She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.
“Happy Birthday Martha.”
Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.
I wish for us to be family in every universe.
13K notes · View notes
ganyuslily · 4 months ago
soulmate tropes | genshin headcanons [part 1]
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— characters: albedo, childe, dainsleif, kaeya, kazuha
— category/extra notes: fluff but also some of them are a little bit angsty ngl [major character death in childes, dains is also a little bit angsty but turns out okay in the end]
— a little summary: what soulmate trope would they be?
a/n: so did i ever say im absolutely obsessed with soulmate tropes,, if not i think now its quite obvious uhh also part one bc there were too many characters HELP
part 2
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— in which you have a mark on your body thats specific for the both of you. he always finds himself tracing the little star on his neck, humming softly. he wonders if yours is also in the same place as his? or is it in another place? is it visible? the only reason he has his out in plain sight is because he hopes for his future soulmate to see it and realize they have the same symbol as he has. throughout the years he grew to put his fingers on the star anytime he would get stressed. it would calm him down, the realization that youre somewhere out there. and when he spots you for the first time, the same orange shape adorning your hand, he cant help but immediatly tell you that he thinks the two of you are soulmates, pointing on his neck. and when your eyes lit up and you ask if you can touch it, he finally feels like hes complete.
— in which you have a countdown on your wrist that tells you when you will meet your soulmate. as a child, he wouldnt pay a lot of mind to the numbers on his arm, even though everyone around him told him that he had gotten quite lucky — meeting his soulmate in his young adulthood wasnt something that happened to everyone. but when he realizes that this is his soulmate, the one hes supposed to kill just now, he hates the gods, he hates fate, he hates this stupid countdown on his wrist that reached zero just the moment he held the knife to you throat. he hates how you only look at him and murmur i love you, even though he just met you, eve though that he was supposed to kill you. when he slices your throat, a part of him dies. maybe in another life, he says to himself. if he even gets another chance.
— in which you stop aging at a certain age until you find your soulmate and grow old together. dainsleif had lived for hundreds of years — time not taking its toll on him, his beauty never wavering. he watched people die and birth, he watched civilizations fall apart and rebuild themselves. he lived for so long, searching and looking, but never finding. he thought it was another cruel joke from the world — what if you died before he met you? what if he never got to see you, hear your voice or touch you? so after sometime, he gave up. it was too tiring, he told himself, yet he still hoped to find you one day. and when he stumbles upon you on yet another mission, the world stopping for a moment, he knows. he knows youre the one.
— in which one of your eyes is the color of your soulmates eyes. he didnt believe in them, to be quite honest. he didnt think he was worthy of deserving someone that would love him and be with him to the end. he didnt want to risk it or even get attached, not to say develop feelings. so he started to wear an eyepatch to hide one eye — he didnt know which one was his natural though, so he just had to guess. but no matter how many times he told himself that he doesnt care, he did. he took it off everynight just to look at the color. it was pretty, beautiful even. and even though he swears he doesnt want a soulmate, when he locks eyes with you and he sees your pupils in the same colors as his, he cant help but want to try.
— in which anything you draw on yourself appears on your soulmates body and vice versa. he often awaits the little doodles that end up taking up his whole arms. it makes him smile softly to himself, making beidou tease him about it. he loves everything you draw and he feels bubbling excitement when he sees small flowers and notes appear on his skin. take care of yourself! would be a daily note and he would always write it back. his handwriting was kind of messy and he only hoped that you would understand what he meant. he doesnt really focus on finding you, even though he wishes to already be with you — he trusts the wind to guide him to you. so when he finally finds you, your arms littered with the same drawings he has, he smiles so wildly for the first time in so long and shyly asks if he can hug you. hes home. hes finally home.
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night-filled-mountain · 4 months ago
From the first day we met him, I have had such strong feelings about Essek’s relationship to Caleb--not as a love interest (though I’m into that now, don’t get me wrong), or as a friend, or even as a trustworthy individual--but as the best teacher he’s ever had. The teacher he’s always deserved. Kind, respectful, patient. Tailoring everything about their lessons to make him feel safe and comfortable. Deeply appreciative of his talent without ever seeking to harness or control it for his own ends. Giving solid advice at every turn, whether he follows it himself or not.
And as I’m re-watching the latest episode, I’ve realized that’s still the case. It might sound funny to hear Essek pull the age card when we know he’s incredibly young for an elf, and especially for a Kryn; it might be outright hilarious to hear him dropping all these pearls of wisdom about resisting the allure of knowledge and power, keeping your eyes on your highest goal, etc., considering, you know...everything about Essek Thelyss.
But ultimately? He’s doing what he’s always done for Caleb. He’s falling back on familiar ground, on those teacher/student roles. And there’s something incredibly touching about it. Caleb’s life was destroyed by a teacher, a powerful mage who was entrusted with his education and abused that trust in every conceivable way. Essek might not know that for sure (though he probably has a pretty good idea at this point), but he’s long since clocked the general air of trauma (“I’ve seen those far older than you that have experienced maybe half the pain I see in your eyes”).
And Essek might be a traitor and a liar, he might have wrought evil on a scale that he doesn’t even believe Caleb can understand, but he can still do this much for him: he can pour everything good in him, every noble impulse he’s ever had (or simply believes he should have had), into these lessons, into a student he clearly considers worthier of them than he’s ever been. Do as I say, not as I do, and all that. I don’t even know if he intends all that “young man” stuff to be flirtatious, not because I don’t think Essek wants to flirt, but because I don’t think he believes for a moment that he deserves to. He’s always been Caleb’s mirror, and this is classic early Caleb: shying away from the very intimacy you crave, believing that you only have a right to interact with other people (especially “better,” “purer” people) in very specific ways.
Essek believes he’s going to die. If not in this battle, then at the hands of the Cerberus Assembly; if not theirs, then his own people’s. And honestly? A significant part of him probably believes that he should. And listen, I want wizard kisses, I want them so much, and I even think Caleb might be coming around to that idea. But Essek? Essek is in the mindset of Let me share all my knowledge with you while I still have a chance, it’s the only thing I can give you that isn’t tainted, and I just.
I just.
I have a lot of feelings.
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tokyo-fukushu · a month ago
;; shinichiro’s best friend and the sano family’s older sister (as well as toman’s)
🥛 — sano family ( + tokyo manji gang )
🧾 — female reader, second pov (you/your), cursing, fluff and angst, hurt / comfort, canon divergence, platonic relationship, family fluff, canonical character death, timeline: tenjiku, scenario
✉ — so uhhh... who wants a sidestory in izana’s pov?
🔖 — [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 ]
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Emma is crushing on Draken.
You should have seen this coming but you’re blind as fuck and Draken has to be as well if he can’t see how she felt for him. Emma wasn’t completely subtle in the glances she keeps on giving Draken despite the amount of people in the vicinity, her eyes just continue to linger on him.
Funny thing is, you look at Draken as Emma gets occupied with something Hina was saying, Draken was looking right at her as well.
You dramatically leaned on Chifuyu who startled at the sudden action, blushing red. “Young love,” you whimper pathetically as the boy tenses even more. “I really am getting too old for this.”
“Don’t say that, Y/n-san,” he laughs. “You’re still quite young, you know.”
“This is why you’re my favorite. If I said that to Keisuke, he would have called me an old hag no matter my age,” you snort, stretching your arms above your head as Touman continues fooling around on the lazy afternoon they share.
You stop, realizing your words and glancing at Chifuyu who had gotten a little gloomy at the mention of a single name.
Soulmates aren’t always lovers.
You have seen it on Chifuyu and Keisuke. The way Chifuyu trusted Keisuke so much even without him saying anything. The way Keisuke turned Chifuyu upside down and how Chifuyu changed because of him.
You had seen it on Mikey and Draken. The support and the way they always catch each other when they fall. Looking for each other and knowing each other better than they know themselves.
You have seen it on Yuzuha and Hakkai. The unconditional love the two had, having each other’s backs no matter what and having each other even if the world turned its back on them. Even if their own brother turned his back on them.
You have seen it on you and Shinichiro.
And there isn’t only one. There could be even as many as five. Just like how Draken and Mikey are soulmates, Ken and Emma are as well.
You’ve seen it and it was proved to be true as Draken loses himself, standing in front of the corpse of his beloved, of his almost.
You close your eyes. Count one, two, and three, three, two, and one. Again and again, just repeating the numbers, just focusing on breathing because you fear that you’ll drown if you stop now.
Shinichiro, Keisuke, and now Emma?
Why do you have to lose so many people? So many kind souls that only deserved the world. The world that you wanted to give them no matter what. And yet- Still, again and again, they kept on slipping out of your grasp like falling water in a dark morning.
Takemichi was walking away after exchanging some words with Hina, smile strained but not hopeless, never hopeless—he wouldn’t be Takemichi if he had lost hope. The same Takemichi that reminded you so much of your soulmate, your one and only, your brother, your best friend, your partner, your other half. Sano Shinichiro.
You can’t lose him as well.
Giving the desolate Mikey one last glance, you turn and follow after Takemichi.
You can’t lose Takemichi. Mikey can’t lose Takemichi. It’s the least you could do.
You repeat those words as you stand in the middle of that battlefield, pulling Takemichi away before he could get knocked down by a member of Tenjiku. The Touman uniform still fits you perfectly as you hadn’t grown a single inch these past few years. The same uniform that Mitsuya jokingly made once upon a time.
You felt as if you were back in middle school. Getting into little nonsensical fights before being properly introduced to Black Dragons. Looking up to your senpai, Shinichiro, who later became your greatest friend and family. 
“Michi, go and get Kisaki,” you say, barely above a whisper, feeling so numb and not minding that someone had managed to punch you straight onto the face and that your nose was bleeding.
The blond gives you a look, wide blue eyes drowning in worry but you only push him away, away from Kurokawa Izana that was staring at you. Those violet eyes shine almost menacingly, an underlying recollection shimmering behind the loathe.
You could almost remember him.
Shinichiro’s suspicious actions, always disappearing on random days of the week to go to another part of Tokyo without telling any of you. The mention of another sibling though never confirmed. The smile he always wore when he came back home after having another one of his disappearing acts.
And his funeral.
At the very back, hidden behind the crowd and under the hood of a tree, was a young light blond with the brightest of violet eyes, twinkling with unshed tears. A glimpse from years ago and yet the memory remained fresh in your mind as if it was yesterday, as if the moment had lasted longer than simply a moment.
The same boy was standing in front of you.
“You’re Y/n huh…”
You give him a bitter smile, shoulders loosening despite the situation and the people fighting around you. Izana remained untouched by everyone while you consistently tipped here and there to avoid getting dragged into the fight that was swallowing everyone like a whirlpool. “Did Shin talk about me?”
He pursed his lips, his response coming into the form of a punch you could have barely dodged. Just from the look of it, you knew that you would knock out if that had met your skin.
To think that Tenjiku’s King had come down from his throne just to meet you. How honorable.
You gazed at those eyes again, still avoiding his hits. Blank. They were so blank. Almost lifeless, like a void. Almost like Mikey’s. Just like Mikey’s. And you were hit with regret and guilt. You were supposed to be there for him as well.
Shinichiro took care of Izana, that enough was obvious. But he took care of Mikey and Emma as well. You only watched over two of those people. You wondered with the clench of your heart, was Izana hoping that someone would be there for him just like how Shinichiro once was before his passing? Was he waiting for you?
He was your responsibility as well, to an extension. And you had disappointed him by not minding his existence, acting as if Shinichiro hadn’t dropped the million little clues.
His fist met the side of your face and you stumbled back, an explosion of pain and a cacophony of distorted sounds as your eyesight went black for a few seconds. You coughed, trying to catch your breath as he pulled back, leaning on his foot. You knew that it would have done more damage if he had kicked you instead, there was a clear difference in his upper and lower body strength.
The pain was new and yet familiar, from a time so long ago, more than a decade prior. On your fist were old scars, already light and fading.
You opened your eyes and met his gaze head on, with a silent challenge and your arms raised in a defensive position you knew that you didn’t mean (you knew that wouldn’t last because you would have let him beat you up as consolation). Come at me.
Consolation. For not being there when you were supposed to be. When you were the only one left after Shinichiro. Even if you didn’t know each other, you knew Shinichiro and that was enough. If you could do it for Mikey and Emma, you could have done it for Izana as well.
Consolation. That was what you thought when you stood in front of Izana, saving not only him but his only friend, Kakucho, as well.
For Manjirou, for Izana, for Emma... for Shinichiro.
The Yokohama conflict ended with three losses. Sano Emma, Mikey’s younger sister. Y/n, Mikey’s older sister as well as Touman’s. Kisaki Tetta, on the hand of Sano Manjirou and Kurokawa Izana themselves.
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junghelioseok · 5 months ago
↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.
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◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]
❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜
notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!
⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.
warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(
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You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.
“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”
“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”
“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”
Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.
“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”
You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”
“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”
Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.
“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”
“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”
You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”
“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”
“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”
Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”
You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.
“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”
If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”
You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”
“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”
You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”
“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”
“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”
“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”
Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”
She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”
As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.
Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.
There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.
And then your mind goes to Jay.
You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.
A lot.
The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.
“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”
You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”
“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”
A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.
And arguably, a little too well.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.
“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”
That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.
“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”
Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”
You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”
The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”
“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”
“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”
You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”
The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”
One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”
“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”
You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.
Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.
It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.
He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.
“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”
Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.
“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”
You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”
Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.
“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”
“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”
“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”
The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.
“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”
Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”
You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.
And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.
“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”
You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”
He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”
Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.
“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”
Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”
You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.
“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.
The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.
“I’m guessing this is yours?”
He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”
Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.
“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”
Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”
And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.
“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.
“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”
Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”
You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”
Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.
It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”
“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.
“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”
Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”
For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”
His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.
“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”
“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”
Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.
You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”
That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”
The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”
Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.
It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.
“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”
“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.
Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.
“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”
You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”
The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.
And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.
[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘
It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.
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Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.
[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?
His response is instantaneous.
[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours
[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅
You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.
Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.
It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”
“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”
“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”
“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”
You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”
Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”
You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”
“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”
“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”
“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”
“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”
“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”
“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”
Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”
There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..
“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”
Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”
“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”
Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”
You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”
“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”
You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.
You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.
Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.
At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.
Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.
“Need a hand?”
The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.
“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”
Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.
“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”
The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.
“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.
“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”
“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”
Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”
You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”
“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.
The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.
There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.
[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight
Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.
[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.
You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?
[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged
[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!
Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.
“Is she alone?”
The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.
“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”
“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”
Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.
“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”
You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”
Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”
“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.
“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”
“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”
She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.
“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”
The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.
Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.
Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”
Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”
Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”
“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”
Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”
“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”
“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”
A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.
From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.
“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”
“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”
“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”
Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.
“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”
“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”
Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”
His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”
You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.
“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”
“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.
The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.
“Here’s to second meetings.”
“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.
You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.
Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.
“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”
You blink. “The verdict?”
Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”
“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”
Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”
“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”
“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”
“What if I am?” you challenge.
“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.
The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”
Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”
“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”
“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.
“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”
Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.
“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.
“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”
His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.
“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”
You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”
“Hey, you made it!”
You beam. “Hi.”
You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.
“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”
Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”
You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”
He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”
You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”
“Just promise me one thing?”
The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”
He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”
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hollyhomburg · 5 months ago
Before I leave You (Prologue)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: Someone always has to leave first; They just didn’t expect Yoongi to come back with a new omega. 
Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, 
Tags: Epilepsy, implied cheating (though its just them becoming poly) polyamory negotiations, implied emotional abuse, negative self-talk, self-esteem issues, abandonment, backstory, Pretty tame first chapter! 
W/c: 10.3k
A/n: This is entirely backstory, though it is kind of long it’s necessary for the rest of the plot!  The first line of this story is based off of richard silkens quote “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” I am in no way intending this to be a medical how-to on how to handle seizures either, there is definitely some inaccurate medical information but suspend your disbelief please. 
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Prolouge: The Beta
Someone always has to leave first.
Whether it's through divorce or death, through separations happy and healthy even if they hurt at first. Sometimes it happens naturally, when a lover slides from living into the afterlife and there is nothing to do but beg; Please treat them gently, please hold them tenderly like I did.
But Nothing is safe and nothing is holy when it comes to death. Death takes and takes leaving behind nothing but memories. But death keeps the ones you love forever, even when you can’t. 
Min Yoongi often felt like he walked hand in hand with death, which was honestly a little annoying. He’d much rather ignore how death seemed to follow him like a curse, in favor of holding onto the people he loved for as long as possible. Even if he knew that one day something would come to separate them. Love is that way; intoxicating, even though you know it’s going to end. 
Min Yoongi loves his whole pack so much that he’d snatch them from the hands of death. He’d burn buildings and salt cities, bring the sky down upon anyone who dared to take them from him even a moment sooner than was fated. A man in love is a dangerous thing, and Min Yoongi was already dangerous before he met his pack. 
He loved them all desperately, even though each one of them had a secret.
You might have expected that kind of aggression from an alpha, or an omega, but Min Yoongi was not the typical beta. Most betas are nomadic by design and would never even dream of staying with one pack as long as he’s stayed with his. 
Betas are valuable for so many reasons it’s hard to put a pin on exactly why society praises them so much. Is it their even temperaments? Their Biology that eases the hurts from heats and ruts and sometimes stops them all together? Is it their inability to have their emotions altered by pheromones? any and all are true. 
Betas are the political advisers, the Commanders, and the CEOs of the world. they’re the only ones who never falter. There are so few beta’s in the world but every pack needs one. Only 5% of the world’s population are betas, and as such they are the most secretive and understudied sub-gender by medicine.  
Most betas have at least two packs that they split their time between. Taking rest from one and safe harbor in another. It's not that they don’t want to stay with just one; it’s just hard to reconcile all the people you love with each other. To balance temperaments and lifestyles, And Even harder to get them all in one place. 
Though alphas and omegas might feel possessive over a beta; it’s generally a social taboo to interfere with the transfer of beta from one group to another. Bi-monthly or bi-yearly- or whatever works for each pack. Some packs even get houses next to each other so that their beta can have a more free-flowing arrangement between Dens.
They’re always cordial, and every one of you has had the same idea shoved down your throat since you were young. See- betas don’t need to stay in one place- see- it’s fine to give up the one you love to another. It’s normal. Don’t make a big deal out of it. society will crumble without it, so don’t even try. 
But Yoongi wasn’t that way- No. Yoongi doesn’t have a secondary or a tertiary pack, in fact he would probably spit in the face of anyone who even insinuated that he should leave Kim Namjoon's pack or spread his ‘blessed genetics’ evenly over society. They could go to hell- the only people who deserved him them.
But they were also the only ones who didn’t deserve him- they deserved so much better than yoongi could ever give them. But yoongi wouldn’t trust another beta with the job of loving them, no one else could do better. Most days Yoongi just tries not to be a coward. 
(One day he lives up to his title, but I’m getting ahead of myself, I should probably tell you how they fall in love first, let's get to the good parts before I tell you about the bad)
Seokjin is the first one to fall in love with Yoongi, they meet just after his family died when they’re still scrappy, with too many dreams and not enough money to make it happen. Seokjin had been a lone omega (a dangerous thing to be these days in a city so dangerous) not to mention he’d been lonely, most of his uni friends moved away, with not a soul to help him navigate life after college. 
They’d danced around each other working at the same coffee shop, not enemies- but certainly not lovers. Until Jin had realized the alphas he passed on his walk home never hassled him as much if he was wearing Yoongi’s jacket. Something about their gaze and their unwanted attraction sliding over him like he was a mirage, a spectre. 
With Yoongi’s scent on him, Jin wasn't as much of a target for harassment. It irks him- that a beta is worth their respect but an omega isn't.
He’d confessed this jokingly the next day, but Yoongi hadn't taken it as a joke. he’s seen the kind of shit that Seokjin has to put up with on a daily basis. The stinky alphas that lean over the partition in the coffee shot and stink up the place with their arousal and wanting. Yoongi’s had to take more than one unruly customer off his hands. Yoongi had given him his flannel, his hat, his everything just so that Seokjin felt a little bit safer on his walk home.
When Seokjin’s next heat hit he’d filled his nest with Yoongi’s clothes. Jin had tried to ignore what it meant. Unable to meet the betas gaze when he saw him next And unable to return his clothes either. Much to his pink-cheeked shame.
And then Seokjin’s apartment flooded and Yoongi had offered his couch and shit- the rest was history. Yoongi would hardly let Seokjin sleep on the couch for weeks at a time and his bed was big enough for the two of them. 
It was winter they could save on heating if they just got a little closer. A little snuggling never hurt anyone right?
There is something about a pair of arms that you know are meant to hold you, keep you safe and Seokjin feels it the second he sinks into Yoongi’s. Maybe it’s strange that he’s older. Maybe it's strange that Seokjin wants him and not the countless other knot head alphas society says an omega should end up with.
By the time he’s saved enough for a deposit for a new apartment Seokjin never wants to leave and Yoongi would never make him. Now Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s flannels just because he likes the beta’s scent, like sea salt and chocolate. it conjures up warm nights around a bonfire at the beach with s’mores. They do  that on the weekends, a low-cost date night. And Yoongi makes Seokjin perfect little sandwiches of love and marshmallow and Yoongi eats only the chocolate out of them Cuz really- that’s his favorite part.
They’re a pack even if it’s just the two of them. Seokjin tells himself he can be happy with just this even though every day on his walk home he wonders if Yoongi will still be at their apartment, always worried that today is the day that Yoongi’s just- gone. It makes his face when he opens the door, the shy smile- that much more delicious to behold. 
It doesn’t escape Seokjin that Yoongi put the apartment in his name the first time they decide to move- just in case he needs it. Yoongi wouldn’t be so unkind as to leave Seokjin without making sure he has a roof over his head.
Seokjin never thought he’d be the one to change first, to want more first. But then he meets Namjoon in a Laundromat of all places.
Seokjin’s just worked a double at the coffee shop. The first shift with Yoongi and the second without. He’s so tired that he ends up listing into a bag of laundry that’s not his and using it as a pillow. Rubbing his cheek in slow circles, breathing in deep to get more of a foreign scent on him. It smells so good, the kind of scent he could curl up in and make a nest out of.
His heat is hitting in a few weeks, and the weeks up to mating season always have his nose feeling itchy and irritated but this is heavenly. It smells like coffee, freshly brewed, more of the feeling of it hitting your tongue than the smell with just a hint of musky, almost coconut bitterness. 
Seokjin wants to purr, can feel a purr starting in his throat as he rubs his cheek along a folded pair of slacks, eyes closed. A deep laugh that shocks him out of his reverie. Only to look up and find the only other person in the whole building there, a sheepish grin “I’m not sure that’s your nest.”
Seokjin has never blushed so hard, the owner of the laundry basket is a young man- an alpha. Seokjin blinks up at him, trying to make his mouth move. he rubs a hand over his face, clearing the scent haze, “Oh fuck I’m so sorry I-“
He hands over the basket fearing a scolding, his cheeks flaming at exhibiting such an omega behavior in public. Most of the time- Seokjin is broad enough to pass for an alpha, but he knows his scent blockers have worn off.
If Namjoon smells like coffee than Seokjin smells like sweet milk, creamy and thick, the kind that came from melted ice cream on a hot summer day. Seokjin’s so embarrassed, his palms sweaty. The alpha would probably have to wash them again to get Seokjin's scent out of his clothes.
The stranger only smiles good-naturedly “You seem tired- let me buy you a cup of coffee.” Namjoon joins in Seokjin’s embarrassment minutes later when he drops his shitty machine coffee all over Seokjin’s feet. His white tennis sneakers are completely stained (though It's not the first time he’s spilled coffee on his shoes, he works at a coffee shop after all).
They both find themselves leaning close over the only table in the laundry mat and confessing things they’ve never dared put to words- like they’re confidants instead of strangers. There is no one here to hear about the whispered parts of themselves. Only fabric softener and unmentionables that Seokjin doesn’t want Namjoon to see but of course fall on the floor when he moves his laundry from the washer to the drier. 
“You’re a doctor and you don’t get your laundry sent out?”
“I like the quiet here- it’s the only time I can really think” Namjoon’s pout is something Seokjin wants to kiss away- and ease that discontent further with touches. The thought strikes him so out of the blue that it’s ridiculous- they’ve only just met. Barely exchanged a paragraph of words, But Seokjin can’t stop the urge to comfort him.
“You just wanna snoop in people's laundry probably” that teasing gets a smile out of Namjoon- and god Seokjin wants to swoon over those dimples. “What’s on your mind? You can tell me, it's not like it matters if a stranger knows your secrets.” Seokjin gestures to the table between them, “I couldn’t use them in any way that could hurt you.”
It’s nearing midnight and Seokjin wonders what someone would see from outside, the tall windows that spill light onto the dark street. Two lovers maybe- curled up close underneath the fluorescent lights. 
Namjoon has never voiced this out loud and he doesn’t even know Seokjin’s last name. “What if I- I don’t want to be a doctor? I know it’s silly and waste. I’ve spent almost half my life working my ass off and studying to getting here only to discover that I hate it. And I know I help people but that’s the only part of the job I like- I just-“
Seokjin's eyes are something heavenly, "you wish you'd made different choices." Something about the way he says it leaves Namjoon to believe that there are choices Seokjin would have rather not made. But he doesn't supply his secrets. 
Namjoon is apart of the doctor class that went to school after the virus, they talk about it, what did you do during those years? But they move off of the topic almost as quickly as they started. It’s mostly extinct now, just a bad part of their childhood (and Namjoon’s early teen years). A bad mark on society that has left them all with a childhood they never lived, years lost. It's no wonder that Namjoon grew to hate the job that grew out of it. That he feels like he's never lived- never had fun the way he was supposed to have.
Seokjin nocks Namjoon out of his spiral with a delicate hand on his jaw. his instincts have him pressing his nose to Seokjin’s wrist a sudden ache in his jaw. wanting to bite and mark the skin there as his. Seokjin must feel it, how hard Namjoon has to hold back because his voice is husky when he says it. “It’s your life Namjoon, I think you should do what you want.”
What Namjoon wants to do- happens to be Seokjin at that very moment. This is a type of attraction he’s never felt before. it’s been years since Namjoon’s last boyfriend got tired of his shitting work to life balance and left. Too long since he’s had someone touch him like this. (Beyond the occasional dementia patient who mistakes Namjoon for their dead husband)
And Seokjin is just so pretty, he's never met an omega his size but seokjin looks strong and beautiful. Ripped jeans and a white tea shirt with a coffee stain from Namjoon on the hem. He's dressed more like an alpha than in the delicate light clothes favored by most omegas (that's not a stereotype, medically their skin is more sensitive than alphas. Most omegas favor softer fabrics).
“If you could do one thing right now, what would it be?” Seokjin’s breath is warm as it ghosts over Namjoon’s face. His scent goes from straight milk to whipped cream in seconds when he heaves the omega on top of the washing machine and kisses him senseless.
Seokjin barely has any time to acknowledge how big Namjoon’s hands feel on his waist before the alpha is kissing him, and Seokjin kisses him back until- until he pushes him away tears in his eyes and shit- shit- Namjoon’s a fucking idiot. Misunderstanding the way that Seokjin was leaning in, the flirting, how seokjin had grabbed his shoulders the second namjoon had made moves to touch him. how he’d tilted his jaw to fit perfectly against his mouth, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have- fuck-“
“No it’s fine- it’s just-” 
Yoongi had kissed him this morning and he’d certainly feel betrayed if he knew Seokjin was kissing strange alphas and- shit- he’d never thought he’d be a cheater. Fuck- he’d been so worried that Yoongi would leave, and now he goes and does something like this- practically inviting Yoongi to leave him.
“I have to go” but Seokjin couldn't make his feet move from the spot next to Namjoon if he wanted to. There are old fairy tales like this- about fated mates and how you were supposed to instinctively know who you were most compatible with- the whole reason why people had ever evolved to have olfactory signatures like Seokjin's cream scent.
A scent that Namjoon matches with his coffee. Their scents are perfectly complementary. 
“But..” Seokjin doesn't believe in fairytales, but he believes in listening to his gut. And his gut says not to leave Namjoon standing there. Or let him slip away into the city. The alpha in front of him is not meant to be a stranger. “I think you should come with me.”
Seokjin comes home in tears. It’s not that he’s hurt, Seokjin is just so afraid that  Namjoon will have to leave. Because every step he takes in home’s direction a different instinct calls him back. 
On the way up the stairs (the elevator of their shitty apartment building broken as usual) Namjoon keeps a finger, just a single finger pressed to Seokjin’s spine. letting the omega know that he’s still there behind him. 
It’s a home that he and Yoongi have forged together with long hours and double shifts and side jobs. They’d never have the comfort if it wasn’t for each other. Yoongi could just as easily not like the alpha and then Seokjin wouldn’t be able to see him again and just- Yoongi won’t be there. Seokjin doesn’t want it if Yoongi’s not going to be there.
Before Seokjin tells him what happened Seokjin promises himself if Yoongi doesn’t approve, he’ll go outside to the hallway where Namjoon is waiting and tell him to get lost- and never think about the alpha again.
Yoongi doesn’t look angry- just surprised and concerned when Seokjin falls cringing into his arms and begs him not to leave. (Later the beta will pet over his head and tease him for it- ‘how could you ever think I’d leave my love? Why do you think I could? You’re stuck with me.’)
A strange man in a white button-down who smells faintly of coffee, fading scent blockers, and antiseptic smiles awkwardly in the door. And Yoongi just cocks an eyebrow at him and lets his packmate explain.
They really are a match made in heaven because the second Seokjin finished telling Yoongi the story he pinches his nose tamping down his frustration. “I’m not angry, I’m really not, this-“ he gestures between Seokjin and Namjoon, “it’s really fine, but-”
The adding of pack members often happens in a way that’s a little bit morally grey in terms of infidelity. “-you mean to tell me both of you left all your clothes there? Where anyone could take them?” 
Their wardrobes are easily the most costly and splurged on expense. The thing they can't invest in often because rent has to be made or their shared car needs to be fixed. Adding pieces only one at a time. Losing a whole basket of clothes is actually an expense that they wouldn't be able to make up easily.
Seokjin and Namjoon fall silent, Their mouths make twin circles in matching oh's. They only need to stay silent for a second before Yoongi’s pulling on his flannel and shoving them out the door.
The three of them drive in Namjoon’s car back to the laundry mat where thankfully no one has stolen their clothes, it’s happened before- Yoongi lost his favorite pair of jeans that way. It's easily forgiven, he leans back over Namjoon's seat and pecks Jin on the forehead. "Next time when you bring a strange alpha home, think of my favorite pair of pyjamas first."
"Uhm, you do this often?" Seokjin's blush is scandalized, but Yoongi answers for him. "No you're the first, but honestly you couldn't have picked someone with a nicer car."
Namjoon's car is very nice, it's the first thing he'd bought after he'd paid off his student loans. And he's glad he chose the model with the extra legroom in the back now that Seokjin stretches out. Namjoon hides his grin at a red light, but Yoongi catches it anyway. 
They getting takeout after and it’s the start of something glorious as Namjoon does doughnuts in an abandoned parking lot just to make Seokjin and Yoongi smile. Even though Yoongi spills an extra large container of fries all over his front seat when the car jerks. 
It’s not something that he’s done since he was in high school- and since his last reckless streak before he decided to smarten up and go to school. But there is something in Yoongi that settles and yet ignites a wilderness in Namjoon. Turns Namjoon’s frustration from wildfire into a controlled burn. A kind of freedom he hasn’t felt since he first put on his white coat.
Maybe what Namjoon was missing wasn't a new career or different choices, maybe it was this. Maybe the new beginning he wanted so much is Yoongi and Seokjin.
Seokjin’s fear was stupid. Like Yoongi could ever leave Seokjin- could ever dream of a day where he didn’t get to curl up around him late at night or sit next to him in the morning. A love that went from sunrise to sunset and with barely as many inches as hours between them.
Namjoon and Yoongi both love Seokjin, so they have an unsteady truce that melts into a little animosity when Namjoon finishes Yoongi’s favorite cereal the third day he stays at their apartment in a row. But it only takes a few weeks for their bitten comments and bickering to melt away into a heady hot love. 
The kind that has Yoongi biting Namjoon’s lower lip harder than he should, the alpha breaking apart and muttering “asshole” only for yoongi to yank the alpha back by a hand in his hair, “yes, now get in mine.” it makes Namjoon choke, lungs burning as every breath he breathes is all Yoongi.  
It has Seokjin and Yoongi pouncing on Namjoon when he comes home, before he’s even had a chance to take off his jacket to kiss him senseless. Kim Namjoon is a very good alpha- and he lets both of his packmates manhandle him and scent him to their heart's content.
Namjoon falls into their triplet- their triad- perfectly balanced. Namjoon makes most of the money while Yoongi and Jin keep working at the coffee shop picking up fewer hours now that they don’t have just each other to keep the roof over their heads. Now they have Namjoon to do that for them.
Namjoon still hates his job but it’s substantially easier with them to come home too. he lives his life in two parts; During the day when he feels like he’s gonna snap like an overstretched rubber band and be made useless. and the second part when that feeling melts away when he gets home to their little love nest.
The one benefit of being a doctor is that his salary is nearly twice that of Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s put together. And it’s worth keeping his job when he manages to move the three of them into a nicer apartment. Worth the stress when it provides both Yoongi and Seokjin with comfort.
And then- Seokjin applies for a better job as a secretary at a home for pups who don’t have packs. It has better hours and pay but Seokjin doesn’t want to leave the coffee shop if only because it means he won't get to see Yoongi as much, but Yoongi’s so supportive. Encouraging Seokjin to reach for this opportunity, a way to use build his career with options to rise into a position that might allow him to use his bullshit psychology degree one day.
It helps that Yoongi barely inquires about Seokjin’s new job, makes him feel less guilty. When they both come home- it feels like they picked up right where they left off. The time they spend together sweeter and more precious when there’s less of it. 
But if Seokjin’s being honest, it doesn't make the guilt and longing any easier to bear. It doesn't make it easier for yoongi either. But they don’t talk about it. “i miss being able to keep an eye on you.” 
“You keep an eye on me just fine.” 
It takes Seokjin a few weeks to realize that the coffee scent coming off of Yoongi is just from Namjoon- not the coffee shop. Namjoon and Seokjin don’t ask Yoongi if he’s quit his job now that Seokjin no longer works there. They don’t want to risk having their hearts broken if he’s found his way into another pack that probably had more to offer than just the two of them.
it’s non-regular hours but they’ve learned he cannot compromise it when he has to go. Not for date nights, celebrations, or birthdays. Seokjin marked the hours down on a whim trying to find a rhythm to the pattern but there wasn't one. They don’t mind, they chalk it up to him just being responsible. There is no reason to distrust him. 
As long as he sleeps at home they don’t care who he sees during the days. Yoongi does whatever he does- living his life as cryptically as most beta’s do. And the omega and alpha pair learn not to ask what Yoongi does during his day to day, only if he’s free and when. 
It’s no wonder that their peace was disrupted serendipitously by the doubling of their pack. It's been a little more than a year after Namjoon officially moved in and though it doesn’t happen overnight- it feels like it does.
When Namjoon meets him he doesn’t know Jungkook will be his one day. One day, but not quite yet. That day, Jungkook is just another one of Namjoon’s patients.
Jimin and Taehyung are a protective barrier that holds Jungkook steady in the crowd of other people hoping to nurse their hurts at the emergency room. All of them look too young to consider themselves pack mates and yet they act as one unit when Namjoon calls Jungkook's name. He’s just Two hours shy of a desperately needed break.
While the omega looks absolutely fine you’d never guess that by the gun smoke and spiced wine scents that spike agitated into the air from each of his alphas. they're tense, Each of them holding one of the omegas hands so hard their knuckles are white.
The larger of the two alphas is the first one to speak- when Jungkook- his patient chokes on his own words. “If someone had a seizure during…s-sex- would you be able to tell? And how would we make sure it doesn’t happen again?” the omega is bright red between the two of them. The smallest of the three, resettles his other hand on the back of Jungkook’s neck. a touch to his scent gland has the omega instantly relaxing. His shoulders drop from around his ears. 
They all look so small and scared. And Namjoon can’t help but send out comforting pheromones- it’s just in his nature to want to comfort these three- so lost in a sea of concerned stressed faces and scents. it must be bombarding them. 
The three of them lean into it. And when Namjoon finds evidence of the seizure and others on Jungkook’s brain scan. He gives the three of them a lengthy conversation. He hates breaking life-changing news to people, hates the look in their eyes when it hits them. When they look at him like he can change it, like Jungkook can keep living the same way he would have before.
Telling this omega that he has epilepsy, with the bunny eyes and the chubby cheeks is the worst thing Namjoon’s ever had to do. “It could never happen again, and it could happen twice every week- they’re no way to know how often you’ll have them so you should be careful for a little while. No operating heavy machinery or driving and stay away from stairs. You’ve got two mates to take care of you so that’s good.” I’ve got two packmates too- he wants to say, and if yours are any good they’ll take care of you even half as well as Seokjin and Yoongi take care of me.
As if the two alphas can smell a hint of the suggestion that they wouldn’t hang the stars for Jeon Jungkook, they curl protectively around Namjoon’s patient. Even the small one with the grey hair looks protective and large in the small space, sizing Namjoon up like he could be a potential threat. He's used to this kind of alpha posturing at the hospital when tensions run high and concern for loved ones becomes aggression.
Namjoon has always been a dominant alpha, and it didn't matter in their pack, but now it feels like it does. The small patient room is full of the scent of fresh coffee, the kind that's pressed into your hand the second after you wake by someone you love, to Jimin and Taehyung it conjures up happy Saturdays and Sundays- and it eases them away from their fear.
To Jimin- fear has always been a necessary evil, and it feels weird to try and let go of it. Every few seconds Namjoon’s scent makes Jimin's body relax and he has to straighten up again. Namjoon just tells himself that it’s a sign he’s good at his job even though it feels a little too much like flirting to be completely appropriate.
“Could it also have been a one-off fluke?” Taehyung asks, he’s been mostly quiet, but Namjoon shivers when he meets his eyes. There is something placid about his face, even under the storm of this, the alpha looks mostly calm.
Namjoon reminds them that he’d found signs of other seizures on his brain scan too. And he explains that sometimes- the only indication that a seizure is happening could be that time is passing weirdly or staring off into space.
Jungkook’s alphas pale when he says that. “He gets that way all the time.”
When they leave- Namjoon gives them his number because he’s so concerned about the three of them, so vulnerable and unprepared to help Jungkook navigate the world like this.
Surprisingly it’s Jungkook who uses Namjoon number the most often. He wants to talk to Namjoon about it all- the new definition of his life inside his medical condition. No bright flashing lights, limited screen time, sleep every night at a consistent time, and a new diet that’s helping considerably but still feels so restrictive. “I would kill for some pretzels- or just- some fucking bread.”
“Too much salt bunny” Namjoon hears Taehyung say on the other side of the phone. Jungkook’s body feels more and more like a cage as the seizures get worse. His life sacrificed to the five or ten minutes a week he surrenders to the seizures.
"I will kill you for carbohydrates Hyung."
Namjoon does the best he can to ease the young omegas worries. And slowly- they talk about things other than Jungkook’s condition. Though that remains a soft topic, “I didn’t have any this week hyung! Maybe they’re finally turning a corner, aren’t you proud of me?”
“Of course I am bunny- I’ll always be proud of you” in the background of the call he hears the words ‘hot doctor’ and ‘hopeless’ faintly. A happy little giggle he’s started to recognizes as Jimin’s when Jungkook shoots him a scandalized "hyung!" He and Jungkook talk until Yoongi and Jin are teasing him “what are you smiling at your phone about?”
Jungkook fills the spaces when Yoongi and Jin aren’t there, the days after Namjoon’s had a night shift and both of his pack mates are working. Jungkook’s voice fills the air in Namjoon’s room. And when he closes his eyes- it feels like he’s really there. Namjoon wants him more than he would ever willingly admit.
He even talks to Jungkook’s alphas too. Mostly Taehyung who studied literature in undergrad and works at a library. They share a lot of the same interest in poetry.
Jungkook’s a personal trainer and luckily his work hasn’t been too disrupted by his diagnosis. Namjoon doesn’t know if he would have been able to resist offering monetary help if it had. They’re not rich, but having three people to pool their paychecks together takes the anxiety out of a lot of things.
Taehyung sends him poems and pictures of Jungkook sleeping and getting his rest. But he also calls in a panic at one point because Jungkook had a seizure when neither of the alphas were home. “He says he’s okay- but Joonie- Joonie- how do we know- what if he’s bleeding in his head or if he’s-“
“Tae- Tae- it’s okay baby. I’m sure he’s fine- do you want me to come over?”
The use of the word baby gets a little look from Yoongi and Jin. they're playing footsie at the coffee table with a pint of ice cream and only one spoon between the two of them. Namjoon’s startled tone drawing their attention away, But namjoon’s too panicked too notice
He's got more on his mind right now, the thought of brain bleeds and strokes and the misfiring neurons in Jungkook's brain that could kill him. really- Jungkook could die at any time from this.
Tae goes silent on the other line until the phone gets handed over to Jimin. Namjoon doesn’t have as of a rapport with him, beyond a few selfies or videos of him and Jungkook being cute sent to him by Taehyung (because if he has to suffer through being so deeply in love that Jimin snorting sprite out his nose makes him have heart eyes then everyone else has to witness it too)
(In Namjoon’s defense those are Taehyung’s words- not his)
“Hyung can you come over?” he asks, The supplication is sweet as he asks for Namjoon. He lives up to his stoic persona; his voice barely wavers when he gives Namjoon their address. In the mad dash over to their apartment, Namjoon recalls the story Jungkook told him of how he met Tae and Jimin. Jimin is a professional bodyguard. They both used to go to the same gym- both of them staunch jocks and Tae the one erudite that charmed their hearts.
Taehyung and Jimin had known each other since grade school, had grown up, gotten kicked out at the same time because their parents didn't approve of alpha/alpha relationships. They’d been together even longer than seokjin and yoongi’ had been together and that seemed impossible give their age. But he remembers Jungkook’s smitten expression over facetime, “they’re soulmates hyung, like you and Seokjin-hyung”
And that’s how Namjoon ends up halfway across town with only one slipper and in Yoongi’s robe at 10 pm. His car keys jingling in his hand as he realizes- fuck- I didn’t even comb my hair. His alpha instincts are screaming at him to find those three and make sure they’re all right. Namjoon’s only ever felt this protective with two people in his life and he knows enough to guess what it means.
Jimin answers the door, moving to the side instantly to let Namjoon into Their den. “Alpha you came,” he says, blushing when he realizes his slip up. Namjoon whips through their apartment, his nose seeking out their omega. “Couldn’t stay away, would have come over even if you didn’t want me to."
Namjoon barely notices the yellow carpet and the plants on the windowsill or the books in a pile by the couch where Jungkook sits with Taehyung. The soft drone of the tv the only noise, the brightness turned down too. His head is in the other alphas lap. Both of his hands clasped in Taehyung’s tight.
The mark on his forehead doesn’t need stitches. Namjoon spends half an hour holding his hands and shining a light in Jungkook’s eyes before he verifies that Jungkook is okay.
“You can borrow a pair of Tae’s shoes to go home,” Jimin says after Tae and Jungkook go to bed. Jungkook was tired, sleepily nuzzling into Namjoon’s shoulder saying “it feels better when you’re here.” Taehyung holds his shoulders and pilots jungkook to their room. 
“Okay, that’s enough honey bunny.” He’s understandably a little embarrassed that his omega is scenting the doctor that they met that one time- no matter that their call history says they’ve spent nearly 50 hours talking on the phone over the last 3 weeks. Namjoon has to force himself to let them go down the narrow hallway and not follow them.
Namjoon is just about to leave when Jimin stops him at the door. “Alpha” it’s not a mistake this time, “thanks for caring for us.” Namjoon can’t stop his shivers even when he gets home. Yoongi strokes down his arms to warm him up “you look like you’ve just had a bomb dropped on you.”
“I think- I think they’re going to be a part of our pack” Yoongi kisses Namjoon’s frown away, “good- I’d rather listen to them talk here than get only half of it through the phone.”
Late-night phone calls turn into flirting and promises “I always think I’m too much for Jiminie and Taehyung- they’re such good alphas, and I’m just a burden.” Namjoon humms disapprovingly, soft in his reassurance, “Enough of that bunny. You're so sweet- you know they don’t mind at all. They’ve told me they don’t.” I'd take care of you too if you'd let me. Do you want me to take care of you Jungkook?
Seokjin steals the phone from Namjoon sometimes. “Namjoon says you’re cute and I demand we have a cuteness competition where we make out and don’t let him join us.” It’s so terribly Seokjin as first introductions go. Jungkook’s laugh echoing through the phone has Namjoon reaching for the phone to hear it. “But seriously- when am I going to get to meet you Kookie? Can I call you that?”
They have a group dinner after Tae complains that he’s missing his favorite pair of comfy slip-on’s and Jungkook complains that he’s missing his favorite alpha (a sentence that has both Tae and Jimin screaming indignantly but it’s all playful animosity and healthy competition between alphas).
They come over and Jin pets Jimin hair for a full hour and the puppy alpha leans into his touch. Jimin- Namjoon’s learned- is probably the quietest in their little pack.
Jimin confesses to him months later- that he got teased for his sweet scent growing up. He smells of vanilla and old books- an unusually sweet scent for an alpha. Combined with his short stature he gets mistaken for an omega more often than he likes to admit.
Namjoon learns that out of all of them Jmin is probably the most in touch with his baser instincts. This is why he was so shy at first. Jimin’s inner wolf (though he’d cringe if Namjoon ever used such archaic wording, most people these days just call alphas like Jimin ‘primals’) is so much louder than everyone else’s- he’d recognized Namjoon as his alpha immediately.
It had come as such a shock to him that day in the hospital that Jimin had rejected it a little. Jimin had never thought he’d feel the urge (and actually have to stop himself) to roll over and show his stomach to another alpha- the same way that Taehyung did in the middle of rut sometimes when he was truly brought into a lower headspace. 
Namjoon watches him interact with Jin while Jungkook curls under his arm. it feels so natural to touch Jungkook, to stroke down his side hooked under his arm. While they watch their two packs intermingle. Yoongi and Tae talk through their favorite books and music while he helps Yoongi set everything up for dinner. Yoongi might not read as much as Namjoon or Tae do- but he still appreciates Tae talking about what he loves. The way he's so invested in the stories.
His soft silk shirt looks so delicate and simply pretty, the collar parted against honey collarbones. Yoongi is a little distracted by them. Taehyung’s adorable grin flattens after a moment when he realizes how long he's been rambling “sorry you probably don’t want to hear about this I know it’s annoying when I info dump-“
“No I was listening, keep going- that story sounds really interesting” he’s honest and genuine, never looks away from Tae as he talks. There is something about the beta's attention that makes Tae feel undeniably special. But less like a butterfly burning under a magnifying glass and more like a piece of green sea glass in a child’s bucket. A treasure found to be marveled over. The attention makes all sort of foolish emotions warm in Taehyung’s chest, nurtured carefully by every encouraging nod.
If this is what Yoongi’s flirting is like they’re all doomed. There’s nothing more attractive than someone who is genuinely interested in your experience as a person. And Yoongi is invested, he wants to hear everything.
The night is going fantastically until Jungkook has a seizure at their dinner table.
Triggered from what? Who knows- it could easily be all the new scents in the room Or the faintly flickering light that Yoongi’s been meaning to change in the living room. Namjoon guides him carefully to the floor while Yoongi and Jin watch on scared.
Jimin and Taehyung operate with practiced ease. They’ve learned to see the signs right before they happen. Sometimes Jimin even thinks he can smell a subtle shift in Jungkook’s honey scent before his eyes roll back, or the sudden stillness like when Jungkook’s brain just shuts off.
While Namjoon holds his head they hold each other and don’t restrain him except to keep him from flinching his arm into the leg of the chair which Seokjin takes and promptly yeets away from the youngest- the pup. Together the five of them wait for the twitching to stop because that’s all they can do.
Namjoon watches Jungkook and feels like he wants to cry, Keeping time with his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He hadn’t expected something like this to happen outside of work hours. Seeing sick people when you’re not expecting to as a doctor- it’s jarring. Even though Namjoon's used to it, it never gets any easier.
And then Yoongi swoops in when Jungkook’s body gives a particularly hard jerk, smashing his arm into the table leg in a way that looks incredibly painful. Yoongi doesn’t think- just follows his instincts and shoves his wrist under Jungkook’s nose.
Jungkook stops twitching altogether, and everyone just blinks. He definitely comes out of this seizure faster than others. Barely a minute before he’s blinking into clarity. His body’s first reaction to press further into Yoongi. Curling around him on the floor. Yoongi threads his hand through Jungkook's hair and holds him close.
The disorientation fades after a few minutes when they all help Jungkook up and onto the couch after the room has stopped swirling with colors. His brain trying to turn back on. Tae’s hands are shaking. Seokjin is crying a little, hiccupping. But He’s the least used to these kinds of things out of all of them.
No one knows what to say, even less what to do. In the silence, Yoongi turns to the three of them and calls it, “that’s it- you’re staying.” No one disagrees.
They move in next week, though they try to keep to seperate rooms to make the transition from two packs to one a little less dramatic, it hardly works when jungkook splits his time between the two rooms, and even on the nights he’s supposed to spend cuddling with jimin and tae- he somehow always finds his way into yoongi’s arms. Jungkook’s seizures decrease dramatically. Until they’re barely happening at all. Maybe once a month when before they’d been once or twice a week.
Privately, Namjoon thinks that he’d love to study it- the Healing powers of betas aren’t something that’s understood by science. But when he accesses the hospital's medical databases on his break he finds that the evidence of any special beta healing powers are anecdotal at best. There’s only one story in the scientific literature- from a beta doctor who says he cured his mate’s lupus after he gave them a mating mark.
But the peer review on that alone is scathing. And in Namjoon's opinion ridiculous- because betas don’t mate. For one beta to bind themselves to only one other person goes against everything that Namjoon knows about beta biology and sociology.
There are even some in the field that doesn’t believe betas even can give or receive a mating mark. One or two reports (that seem more like horror stories) he finds on his way down the rabbit hole of omegas and betas going absolutely insane after they’d tried to be bonded, that they couldn’t be separated- that it seemed to hurt them if they were. Brain scans support this idea, both of them had bright parietal lobes, actively experiencing pain when they where only a few rooms away from each other, though noticeably less from the beta then their non-beta counterpart. 
Betas can’t mate. At least not in the same way that omegas and alphas can. (And even alphas and alphas, and omegas and omegas- Namjoon’s progressive brain reminds him).
But still, they all recognize the correlation between Jungkook’s health and Yoongi’s presence in the young omegas life. Jungkook’s seizures only come back if he and Yoongi haven’t spent enough quality time together or if he hasn’t been scent marked or cuddled. The near-overnight change is amazing. To Jungkook- it feels like he gets his life back. 
And at night Taehyung and Jimin look down at Yoongi like he’s a marvel. They Kiss at his scent glands and even dare to nibble, making the older beta gasp, as if to absorb part of him, so that they might keep Jungkook safe too.
Honey and spice and vanilla- as good as Jungkook and Taehyung and Jimin. they Join their group, meeting Namjoon and Jin’s milk and coffee. Sometimes Yoongi just lies back up and breathes in deep. Enjoying the smell of all of them together and yet sure that they’re missing something.
“We smell like a bakery” someone never fails to comment. “Yoongi’s bakery” 
It makes him feel good that he belongs here; this is where he’s meant to be he’s sure of it. But still- his heart has edges that still need mending. Or maybe needs to mend something. Like arms, he doesn’t know yet but can’t help but reach out for.
That something that their combined pack scent is missing happens to be the caramel sweetness of Jung Hoseok. Another sweet-smelling alpha and sunshine incarnate. Yoongi brings him home one day, apparently, they work together somewhere.
It’s the first time they learn of Yoongi’s occupation in nearly a year. The pack tries not to be jealous that Hoseok knows more about what their beta does during the day than they do. They work at the same record store that gives Yoongi the freedom to make calls in the back (as long as he pays the owner off). Hoseok is perplexed that the others don’t even know where Yoongi works. 
 The day Hoseok meets the rest of the pack is a bad one. Hoseok doesn’t know what he would have done if Yoongi hadn’t seen him crying on a street corner. Yoongi recognized him because how could he not recognize the beta he sees for 8 hours every workday. Though the young alpha looks wrecked- smoking a cigarette with shaking hands and bloodshot eyes. Holding his shoulders so carefully- like his heart between them aches. 
Yoongi can never leave anyone to wallow- and he gets the story from Hoseok over a warm cup of hot cocoa in the shitty break room. Eyeing the old telephone and begging it not to ring. And the whole time Hoseok feels like he’s drinking down the beta. Yoongi smells like hot coco, warm and comforting. 
Though under Yoongi’s gaze hoseok certainly feels like he’s the one being devoured or judged. Like the weighing of the hearts- will Hoseok be able to weigh enough to be loved? Or will Yoongi find him unsatisfactory just like his last pack? Unable to give enough and even less worth being on the receiving end of love.
Yoongi asks him why his pack kicked him out later that night when he's curling up in the betas apartment. Because he honestly hasn’t seen anything in the alpha that’s questionable. Yoongi’s pack has been so kind to him- more than he deserves.
They’ve set him up in his own space and cleared out a good half of what was in the spare room. Though the other side of the space is occupied by an honestly massive pile of clothes. Hoseok doesn’t mind- it smells good- like their fresh-smelling fabric softener but also- a little bit like the inside of a sweet shop.
Not like his scent, his old pack mates had always told him he smelled like burning candy.
Hoseok has maybe three plastic bins full of clothes to his name that act as a side table to the single bed. Apparently one of Yoongi’s alphas (the one who smelled like cinnamon and cloves) likes to stay up late and read in here instead of keeping his pack mates up with a reading light, they’d made this small space for him. Though the books were taken out regardless of Hoseok mutable protests not to make the fuss for him.
 Hoseok can’t remember his name or remember if he’d even heard it. They’d called him darling so much that he thinks that might just as well have been his name. 
It had been a bit of a slap in the face to see the two omegas treat that alpha with such a kind hand, ruffling his head and loosening his tie for him. Being tactile with him in a way that Hoseok had only ever dared to dream about. Now he and Yoongi sit on the edge of the small bed that smells like that alpha; an appropriate distance away on the too fluffy blanket and Hoseok- Hoseok just feels so touch starved.
He won’t get casual affection like the other alpha did, least of all from Yoongi. He’s the beta- the desirable one. Hoseok dreams that maybe in the next life he can be reborn as a beta so he’ll get that easy affection. It seems only right when he’d been denied it so much in this life. Yoongi’s eyes are warm in the half-light, so warm even if the question is so cold.
“They’d never really cared about me” it’s hard to admit, when Hoseok had tried so futility to earn their love for so many years. “As long as one of them wasn’t in heat they basically just ignored me. They’d make me go on suppressants for my rut so that I didn’t have them, but they were making me sick.
When I told them I wanted to go off of them and spend my rut with them- they cut me off, said no one would want to deal with an alpha who has ruts as bad as mine. That I was asking for too much.”
Internally, Yoongi snorts and thinks that no ones ruts can be worse than Jimin’s. he still has bruises from the last time- hickeys shaped in a literal heart on his happy trail. But he has more pressing issues right now as he watches the gentle tears drift down hoseok’s cheeks, Hoseok’s hands tighten on the coverlet, “hyung, was I? Was I asking for too much?”
Hoseok sees Yoongi’s jaw roll again, and the beta goes from smelling like chocolate to smelling like the ocean entirely, the sweetness dimming. “No Hobi- you weren’t at all.” Yoongi pulls Hoseok's head into his shoulder. letting him rest there for a minute until hoseok’s tears have become little hiccups
That night Hoseok sees the two omegas kiss each of their pack mates on the forehead especially the pack alpha. A happy sandwich with a hand on either side of their waists. He smiles good-naturedly at Hobi from the doorway and tells him he can stay as long as he wants.
Hoseok doesn’t understand why they’re treating him so well. Namjoon’s alpha instinct must be screaming at him to not let a stranger get close to his omegas or his pups (he’s heard him and his omega refer to the three youngest as such- it’s an affectionate title, similar to calling someone ‘baby’).
It would be natural for them to feel uncomfortable with a stranger in their den. But Hoseok never senses any distaste from Namjoon nor from the other two alphas- Taehyung (darling) and Jimin.
In the morning Namjoon wakes first. He has to be at the hospital by 7am for his shift and waking up early has always been difficult for the alpha. He almost walks into the wall, the thud resonating in their apartment. Blinking dimly when he looks at the spread stretched out before them on the dining room table tucked into the corner of the kitchen. Hoseok smiles and finishes wiping off the counters, hoping it's enough. 
“Good morning! I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to show you how much I appreciate- I’m-“ Hoseok’s smile fades when he takes in Namjoon’s wide eyes. The alpha blinking away the sleep in the doorway. before rubbing at his eyes like what he’s seeing can’t possibly be real. “You don’t like it- oh my god did I overstep- this is your den I shouldn’t have been so-“ stupid. Hoseok had fucked up. Again. He’s barely been here for 18 hours, Must be some sort of record.
Before Namjoon can answer Seokjin stumbles out of the bedroom nearly hip-checking Namjoon- not expecting the alpha to be just standing there dumbly. He’s pretty tall for an omega. “Don’t bump into any more walls I’ve got you I’ll make coffee in a second just let me-” he blinks too, stopping. 
Hoseok’s made Omurice and cinnamon toast with sugar. a plate of poached eggs and a bowl of cut bananas and strawberries. Creamy hollandaise sauce too. The two of them blink at Hoseok stunned that the alpha has made them a full breakfast. And did it so quietly- none of them are heavy sleepers besides Jimin. Namjoon doesn't know how he didn’t hear anything. 
A few minutes later Hoseok tries to hide his shy smile as Namjoon and Seokjin both let out simply pornographic moans at the taste of Hoseok's food. “im only really good with breakfast food, I can’t make anything else.” but neither of them seem to hear him. Seokjin pouts down at Hoseok, a little bit of runny egg at the corner of his mouth. “Can we keep you?”
Hoseok falls into their pack easily. He goes on runs with Jungkook every morning to keep an eye on him- in case he has an episode while he’s running. He’s the only one who can really keep up with the youngest. He’s the one who has the idea of getting Jungkook a smartwatch to track his heart rate and therefore his seizures. All of them connect their phones to the app and check-in sometimes- when they don’t want to bug Jungkook but still- want to make sure their precious youngest omega is okay.
Even if Hoseok is wary of omegas in general, he’d never let the younger suffer through it alone. And if this is the way he can be useful to the pack then he’d never tell the youngest no. 
Yoongi’s only known Hoseok for a couple of weeks and still- He’s the jumpiest alpha that Yoongi’s ever met. He puts Jimin to shame (Jimin’s job keeps him so on edge, the tenseness that he only loosens when he comes home). Flinching especially around Seokjin and Jungkook. But every inch of him goes calm when Yoongi is in the room. Yoongi had noticed the same thing in the record store.
Flinching, and the emotional abuse that Yoongi already knows Hoseok’s suffered through only combine to one thing. But Hoseok never brings up any physical abuse that he might have suffered at the hands of his old packmates. 
All in all that's probably a good thing, Yoongi had half a mind to track them down and orchestrate some sort of accident for them otherwise. But if you could manage to hurt a person like Hoseok, as sunshiny and as genuinely happy as he is- they might as well be twice as ruthless as Yoongi. So it was probably for the best that Hoseok never mentioned any of it. 
The record store owner knows who Yoongi is. And once he’d started to see his two employees come and go from the shop together- he’d started to sync their shifts. anything to keep a Min happy. Maybe Yoongi would carry that good opinion back to his family and it would benefit the store owner in some way. It’s nice to lean into Hoseok on their walk to the subway, to sit close and share a pair of earbuds and scroll through some YouTube videos.
He and Hoseok have a lot of the same interests. But as time goes on- Yoongi starts to get a little worried about Hoseok’s proximity to Yoongi’s job- the one he doesn’t talk about with anyone in his pack. Hoseok just assumes he does acquisitions and inventory for the store owner, which is why he’s constantly ducking into the backroom whenever the old phone rings.
It was the same way at the coffee shop, but Hoseok and Seokjin never knew to compare notes on this, nor the days that Yoongi’s scheduled to work at the shop and leaves before Hoseok or simply is nowhere to be found. it's easy to lie even if Yoongi hates lying to his packmates. He tells Seokjin that he has to work and tells Hoseok that he doesn't. And it’s easy to slip away. 
Usually, Yoongi finds himself at a hotel or to a different part of the city far away from any of his packmates. Yoongi hates meeting in person but sometimes it can’t be avoided. Often times the rooms he entered where too fine and expensive for his tastes. Chandeliers dripping with diamonds from the ceilings and fine velvet interiors, at odds with his more grungy aesthetic that made him feel wholly out of place. 
Yoongi’s conducted these meetings in so many places, in the back of limousines, the back rooms of bars and clubs, a pool on top of the cities most expensive apartment complex and even once an underground bunker. Anywhere and everywhere. It helped that most people were willing to travel for him- since Yoongi was firm on his decision of not leaving his city.
The secretaries at this hotel eye his appearance like he’s nothing but street trash. Which, granted, he is. But he’s beta street trash and that makes all the difference. “The reservation should be under ‘Min’,” that gives them a start usually, a subtle widening of eyes, hands fumbling for the phone to call the hotel director. “I take it they’re already expecting me?” 
On the days that Yoongi actually tends to his day job, he does a good job keeping an eye on the record store owner. If only because Hoseok has such a proximity to him. Yoongi’s noticed Whenever the owner comes into work a lot more people frequent the store. And he’s seen him slip small bags of white powder into the sleeves of records before. But Yoongi knows how to keep quiet about that sort of thing. And Hoseok has so much on his plate that he never notices.
The rest of his pack doesn’t mind stepping around Hoseok when it’s clear he’s having a bad day. They come less frequently as time goes on and soon he feels just as comfortable curling up with the omegas as he does with the alphas. The adjustment slow but noticeable. The first time they invite him into their nest Hoseok looks like they’ve just doused him with a bucket of icy water.
“You mean I’m allowed? I’ve never been in a nest before and-“ it hurts them that he sits in it- rim rod straight. Worried that he’s going to be booted out of it for messing up the edge or scenting it. But Seokjin and Jungkook just surround him with their favorite nest-making items and sit chest to chest with him. Hoseok shivering with every easily given touch. Jungkook kisses into his mouth soft and sweet, “Love it when our nest smells like you Hoseokie” 
It takes them a while- but eventually, he opens up to them about his old pack. How poorly they treated him. To them, he’d been an add-on- nothing special. The only alpha in a group of four female omegas.
Comparatively their pack feels more balanced now with two alphas for each omega. When Jungkook and Seokjin’s heats eventually sync up he’s very happy to take the lowest spot in their hierarchy even though he’s the oldest alpha. He Doesn’t know how to be a good alpha he says (though he’s never done anything wrong) Namjoon needs to show him. But really it's just reassurance that Hoseok needs; and it's gladly given. Hoseok is so honestly happy to please. 
He’s everything to them- the most special and desired person in their beds and in their lives. Jung Hoseok is the one to wake them up with coffee in the morning, and also the one who tries to say every night, “you don’t have to do this, really guys I'm good” even when they know having his back rubbed is his favorite way to fall asleep. They pet his hair until the touch-starved shivers subside into happy grumbles, the alpha version of an omega purr. They love how shivery and cutely hazy he gets when they shower him in affection.
And their lives are glorious and love-filled. To the point where all of them would attest to it- there is no version of their lives where they wouldn’t end up together. In every possible reality- they love each other- they’re sure of it. And through crappy apartments and low ceilings, rags to riches, thick and thin, they’re stronger together than they are apart. 
But Someone always leaves, someone has to go first- it’s just the way that things happen. They just never expected it to be Yoongi.
(It happens when Yoongi least expects it, after a group date with the seven of them, Yoongi walks a few feet away from their picnic spread to take the call, Jimin’s laugh ringing in his ears, almost drowning out the person on the other side of the phone. “Harabeoji is dying.” They don’t say anything else before they hang up, but they don’t need too. The message is clear and Yoongi is well trained, he knows to come when called.)
“What is it Yoongi? If everything alright?” 
“I’m perfectly fine sweetheart.” The words couldn’t be further from the truth. 
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j0succ · 2 months ago
waves on the shore - nanami x reader (2.2k)
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warnings: not sfw, minors dni. reader and nanami are married. lazy morning sex, fingering, unprotected piv sex, mention of starting a family. the life nanami truly deserves. afab reader, no pronouns.
a/n: happy birthday nanami i love you so much you deserve the whole world 
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Your lips brush against his as a shaft of golden light illuminates the room to herald the morning sunrise; Nanami’s eyes flutter open, his handsome face for once not marred by shadows or tiredness. He sees your own not a hair’s breadth from his and his lips twitch, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours and murmur in a voice scratchy and sleep-laced;
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Good morning,” you reply to him, your own voice soft as your fingers gently go to trace the dip of his hips, the muscle of his side, the scars that decorate his torso and speak of a life, long ago, lived with difficulty. You can hear the waves of the sea splashing against golden sand from the open window of your bedroom; the home you and Nanami have built for yourselves not five minutes away from a refuge of quiet peace and serenity and silent shores. “Happy birthday, darling.”
He chuckles, the sound still scratchy and tired – but his hands wrap around your hips, pulling you in even closer. You feel his body press tight and close to your own.
“How could it be anything but, with you here?” He asks. You sigh, reaching up and stroking strands of his hair out of his face – he’s so handsome and unruffled, without his hair severely parted and combed, blond locks flopping in front of his face and making him look young and carefree. He nuzzles into your touch with his cheek, an ‘mm’ of appreciation falling from his mouth.
“What would you like to do today?” You ask him. “It’s your choice.”
He closes his eyes for a moment. He seems to be thinking on the question – the two of you have no responsibilities stretching before you, now. An early retirement and a house on a beach and one another’s bodies, arms and legs and thighs intertwined and hearts beating against each other’s chests have softened you both.
Nanami deserves it, you know this – and you feel so incredibly lucky that he wants to share it with you.
“So many options,” he murmurs, still musing.
“I could go make breakfast while you decide?” You offer, with a smile, but Nanami chuckles again and presses himself even closer to you – making you very aware that he’s not the only one awake this early in the morning.
“Mm,” he says. “You could . . . but I think I’ve already come to my decision about what I’d like to do.”
“Oh?” You breathe, a big hand gently coming to rest between your thighs – to push them apart with the soft dominance you know so well. Your mouth goes very dry as you whisper; “What would that be?”
His lips curve again. Your breath comes out in a soft huff as he shifts your positions, and you find yourself pinned beneath him – staring up at the perfect lines of his face, the dark cast of his eyes, the elegant lines of his throat and the toned muscles of his abdomen.
“Hmm,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you hungrier and deeper. His mouth tastes as familiar as your own, and you whine softly into it as his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your lower lip, releasing his quarry only to purr; “You haven’t guessed, sweetheart? I think I’d very much like to do you.”
“Well,” you breathe, your arms wrapping about his neck, a finger tangling in the shorter hair at the nape and making him groan low in his throat. “I’m certainly not going to deny you a request you make on your birthday.”
His skin is hot against yours as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You know people look at Nanami and see his stoic nature, his quiet, carefully meted thought process, the stiff way he holds himself, and they think of him as dull or passionless. But you know him too well to ever have similar thoughts; you know Nanami when he is needy and hungry and desperate. You’ve known Nanami when he’s come home from missions crackling with cursed energy and used your body to fuck out every last particle of it until you’re boneless and panting. You’ve known Nanami when he’s pushed you to orgasm after orgasm and wrought out every last whimper and cry from your mouth with the twist of his fingers and lap of his tongue – have known him when he’s held you so tightly and desperately and fucked into you as if it’s the last time he’s ever going to see you, because he has come too close to death yet again.
You know Nanami, best of all, in this little slice of paradise the two of you have carved out for yourself when his body is still heated and hungry for you but the two of you have all the time in the world to lazily make love and let yourself tip over the edge together in sweaty sheets and quiet breaths.
You love him and want him and need him in all of these scenarios; but as you feel one of his fingers brush your heated sex, urging forth slickness and arousal from the centre of your body until you’re wet enough that he can sink one digit into you to the hilt, you think you like this one best of all.
“So good for me,” he praises, into your hair. “You feel so good on my fingers. So wet, sweetheart. So hot and tight and needy – mm, let me make you feel good before I start--”
“Kento,” you breathe. “It’s your birthday--”
He pumps his finger in and out of you a few times, making you sigh and squirm and rut your hips up, only to slide a second inside of you beside the first and crook them just so that you feel the pads of his digits rub against the sweetest spot inside of you that makes your brain short circuit and your breath stutter.
“And for my birthday,” he tells you, and you feel the curve of his lips against your jawline as he trails lazy open-mouthed kisses along it, “I want to see the beautiful love of my life fall to pieces.”
“Ahh—” Your spine arches beneath him, your body fitting against his like a puzzle piece. “You’re . . . c-certainly going about it the right way—”
He chuckles again, nipping at your earlobe, moving that same mouth down your throat to bite and suck at the delicate skin until you feel like he’s trying to taste every inch of you.
“Nobody would ever accuse me of being inefficient,” he growls, and then there are three fingers inside of you – scissoring you open, rubbing against the spongy spot inside of you, thumb grinding circles into your clit exactly the way that Nanami knows that you like, and you are falling to pieces under his ministrations.
“Yes,” he urges against your skin. “Yes, sweetheart, fall apart for me--”
How can you deny him anything? You feel yourself pulse around the three fingers inside of you, your slick release coating him, your hips moving in desperate circles as a soft whine of his name fills the air and he guides you through the peaks and valleys of your orgasm. You’re shivering pleasantly when he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and letting his tongue dart out to lick up the gossamer strands.
“See?” He murmurs. “You didn’t need to make anything. I’ve got breakfast right here.”
The sight of his tongue tracing his fingers, enjoying the taste of you on his lips, makes you clench around the nothingness inside of you – and your legs are suddenly up, pulling him closer, making him laugh.
Nanami’s laugh sounds like the ocean breeze. You never heard it enough before you escaped; now, he laughs free and easy like the wind and you feel like nobody in the entire world has ever been luckier.
“Eager, are we?” He asks you. “I thought it was my birthday?”
“Kento,” you’re whining, and you know it – you know that Nanami can be a tease when he wants to be. You’ve spent enough nights with your wrists tied to bedposts and your thighs trembling to attest to that. But Nanami smiles as you whine and leans down to ghost his lips over yours, whispering;
“Ahh, don’t worry. I don’t much feel like denying myself either.”
The head of his cock presses between the lips of your sex, pushing itself gently inside – opening you up like unfurling petals, fitting snugly inside of you as if you were made to take him. You tilt your hips up for him, relishing in the squeeze – it’s a tight fit even after coming, even after Nanami has prepared you with three fingers. You don’t think you’ll ever truly get used to the size of him, the way you feel full and right and real with all of his cock buried deep inside of you.
The sigh he lets out as he hilts completely is soft and pleased; the sigh of someone who is content in everything in their life. You let him control the pace – and, like the golden sunlight, like the lapping of the waves, Nanami is slow and gentle and lazy.
“I just like feeling you,” he murmurs against your skin. “I like reminding myself you’re real.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you breathe to him, as you lazily rock your hips against his, enjoying the feel of him filling you up.
“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “I just . . .” Your cheeks. “Mm, can you blame me for wanting to enjoy you?” Your mouth, finally, his lips so soft and his kiss so tender you think you could simply melt into it and be happy to never escape.
Everything fades to background noise except Nanami’s cock inside of you, his body against yours, the beating of your hearts and intermingling of your breaths. Every stroke of him insides you strokes something deep and primal, the toned plane of his abdomen rubbing against your clit with lazily mounting pressure.
You can hear a clock ticking, but time is meaningless – nothing is more important that Nanami’s form bent over you, the feel of his hands on your hips, the way the light picks out the flush in his cheekbones and the wisps of his hair over his forehead.
You have explored hurried sex – mind-shattering orgasms that make you feel like you’re breaking in two. As you and Nanami scale the mountain of your peak together, it is nothing like that – it is warm and real and certain, like the sea on a clear summer day. You feel him twitch, hear him sigh – and your own body seems to seize up for a moment before gentle pulses of pleasure thrum through you and you feel Nanami’s release coat your insides, the leisurely thrusts pushing it further and further in.
You think you like this way of melding the two of you together even more. It is not a sign that the passion in your relationship is gone – there’s a lingerie piece in your bottom drawer, in Nanami’s favourite colours, that you know will drive him to fierce, hungry distraction when you slip it on for tonight--
But for now, you enjoy having nothing to do.
You never thought you’d get here; that you and Nanami would really escape from it all, and have lazy days stretching ahead of you with nothing to do but read books and walk the beach and get lost in one another’s bodies, but here you are with the life Nanami has always deserved.
“I love you,” Nanami murmurs as he pulls out, as he rolls you onto your side so you can press yourself against the hard expanse of his chest that’s beginning to soften, just a little, because of good food and not needing to fight quite so much and a gentle existence. You love him all the more for it.
“I love you more,” you sigh. “Happy birthday.”
He rubs soothing circles on your back as you snuggle against him, the two of you half-dozing, enjoying the golden light of early morning.
You’ve almost lost him too many times to count; but now, he is here and yours and safe and the two of you are going to spend the rest of your lives making up for all of the lost time you couldn’t before.
“Darling?” Nanami murmurs, and you move your head gently to look at him, the softness on his face almost unbearable. “How would you feel about there being three of us next year?”
(Your heart does a funny hop in your chest as you think about the spare room you renovated; the one that Nanami had finished redecorating, and climbed down the ladder and wiped his brow as he looked over the pale yellow walls and the neat shelves.
“They’ll be good for the books,” he’d said. “We can put the crib in that corner.”
“Kento,” you’d teased him, running two fingers down his chest, where the tight black shirt clung to the tautly defined muscle of his body. “Are you saying you want this room to be a nursery?”)
“I think I feel good,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest and listening to the comforting murmur of his heartbeat. “Very, very good.”
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itachiyama · 6 months ago
Hey! Can I request Osamu x fem!reader where he finds atsumu lying on top of her in the gym store room. Reader was helping Atsumu pack away the equipment and then she fell and atsumu fell afterwards trying to catch her. Osamu and reader had been arguing but he didn't think it was that big a deal but then he finds his girlfriend underneath his brother. Angst to fluff please (ofc write this if you want to and thanks for writing such good material)
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Ascian: a person who has no shadow
Miya Osamu. To most, hearing Miya would almost certainly guarantee that “Atsumu” would follow it, but for you, it was “Osamu” that you looked forward to hearing. Quiet and more reserved, always watching carefully from the back, Osamu was the less talked about twin, mentioned only when he was paired with his overly zealous brother as a duo. Sure, he’d made a name for himself, his presence on the court was one that left most quaking to play against and others excited to watch, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say his name was tied to his twin, as it always had been since he was young. Over the years, he’d yearned for his own recognition, to be someone people saw as a separate entity. He didn’t want to be “one of the Miyas” nor did he want to be “Atsumu’s twin.” He’d tried so hard, done so much to separate himself from his brother. He’d tried to label himself the nicer twin, tried to garner attention through being less pushy and demanding, attempted to present himself as a guy people could smile around and feel comfortable with. All Osamu craved was for someone to look at him, say his name, and his name alone, and give him the validation he so desperately needed. And you’d done just that. You’d walked in, arms out wide, letting him collapse against you and bask in the attention you’d reserved for him alone. You’d look at him when the ball hit the other side of the court, your eyes were focused on him, never leaving to look anywhere else for even a second. You’d listen to his words, to his opinions, and you gave him a voice that was loud, not outshined by his brother, not overlooked or seen as one half of a whole, but as enough as is. When he was around you, all that existed was Miya Osamu, and the feeling of being seen, of being noticed, of being appreciated, of being loved in a way only he could be loved, was so comforting, so relieving, gave him so much hope that he could be more than just the other twin, that he found himself falling for you even harder. You had shown him that he wasn’t drowning in his brother’s shadow, you’d proved to him that he wasn’t cast into the darkness of the looming presence that was Atsumu. Instead, when he’d gotten lost in the shadow of his brother, too dark and deep to climb out of, you had shined a light on him, guiding him out and into your arms, allowing him to see that he too had his own shadow and that his place wasn’t to fall into someone else’s. So he tried, he gave his all, diligently making good work to give you what you deserved, to be what you needed, to make sure you had a reason to stay by his side. But even in your arms, he found not all of his doubts could be erased. Even with you, not everything was always perfect.
“Samu, there’s not much I can do okay? I need to do what I signed up to do.” Staring at you with disbelief, he furrowed his eyebrows.
“Are ya kiddin’ me y/n? Ya see how he looks at ya! Yer gonna sit there and let ‘em be around ya alone while ya ‘tutor’ him?” Sighing, you gently grabbed Osamu’s hand.
“I know that, and I’m not happy either, but I signed up to be a tutor, it’s a commitment I made. And I can’t help who they assign to me, baby. It’s only twice a week for a few weeks okay? And it’ll be during your practice, it won’t even cut into our time together.” Huffing frustratedly, he shook his head, refusing to let it go. He snatched his hand out of your grasp, staring at you furiously.
“Yer just gonna go with it? Yer gonna let him get away with asking ya to tutor him just so he can get close to ya?” This time it was you who was beginning to get angry. Crossing your arms, you sighed deeply.
“Osamu, stop being ridiculous. Would you just drop volleyball because the manager joined solely for your attention? You have plenty of fans that ogle over you and I don’t make you quit. This is a quick and easy little extracurricular to get me some extra credit and it’ll be over soon, so stop making it bigger than it has to be.” He groaned, trying his best not to get more worked up over your exchange. He wanted to scream that he wasn’t the center of attention like you claimed he was, that there were more fans that fawned over his brother anyway. He wanted to scream that you were the one that could do better, not him, that if anyone could be threatened it would be him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so, so instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked the other way, trying his best to ignore the way his heart screamed at the thought of another man getting a chance to sweep you off your feet.
“Ya know what, whatever. Do what ya want, if ya insist on this so bad then do it. I don’t care anymore.” Turning to walk away, he was stopped by your hand catching his wrist.
“Samu, don’t just leave it at that! Would you just tell me what’s gotten into—”
“Y/n, I’m late for practice. Can ya just let it go?” Blinking at Osamu for a moment, you dropped his wrist, fed up with his mood. Nodding, you waved him off in defeat.
“Go ahead then. Let’s just leave it here.” Nodding, he turned to leave for practice, not turning back to kiss you or invite you along as he left you in the hallway alone. You rolled your eyes, gathering your things and shutting your locker, making your way to the gym anyway. Even if you were angry with him, you always walked home with Osamu, and you didn’t want to miss a day over a petty argument.
Two hours later, and practice had ended with it being Atsumu’s turn to put the equipment away. Your boyfriend hadn’t spared you much of a glance, leaving to fill up his water bottle when they’d all called it a day. You made your way down to Atsumu, rolling your eyes at Osamu’s deflection at the problem at hand.
“Hey y/n,” the faux blonde called over. Giving you a smirk, he gestured at the equipment with a nod. “Be nice to yer boyfriend’s brother and give him a hand with the equipment would ya?” Chuckling, you shook your head, reaching to help him nonetheless. “Ya and Samu haven’t talked much today, what’s up with that? He forget somethin’ important?” Shaking your head, you sighed before rolling your eyes for the hundredth time that day.
“I signed up to do some tutoring as extra credit. I just so happen to be assigned to tutor a guy that’s a little more friendly with me than he should be and Osamu’s not very happy.” Atsumu hummed, nodding slowly as he processed your words. Putting down the equipment in the storage room, you turned to him, beginning to let your frustrations from the earlier argument out. “I mean, I get it, I really do! I wouldn’t wanna be in his situation either, but I can’t exactly just quit! And I wouldn’t ask him to either! He just needs to trust me, obviously, I’d never go behind his back, and I’m not a baby, he can’t just keep me from doing things because someone’s interested in me. What happens if it’s at work or something in the future, not everything can work out the way you want, oh—” you stumbled at the end, tripping over a discarded net you hadn’t seen due to your ranting. Watching you fall forward, Atsumu scrambled to catch you before you fell to the ground, but before he could balance himself, you’d knocked him over, landing on top of him. Staring at him with wide eyes, you gasped. “Tsumu, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” He chuckled, going to respond when the door opened, revealing your boyfriend at the entrance staring at you with wide eyes as you were sprawled over his brother, hand on his chest. Eyes watering, he slowly retreated before turning and walking out completely. You didn’t miss the way his lips trembled. Suddenly, all the agitation you’d been feeling for him melted away, and you were left feeling incredibly guilty. Scrambling off of Atsumu, you quickly made your way after Osamu, following him as he made his way out of the gym. You caught him just as he stepped out the door.
“Samu, wait, let me explain.” Turning to you with a red face and tears streaming down his cheeks, he choked back a sob.
“Explain?” His voice was a mere whisper. “Y-ya wanna explain th-that ya were on top of m-my... my brother?” Heart breaking, you went to cup his cheek, but he dodged your touch, whimpering as you got closer. Once more, you watched him as more tears streamed down past his cheeks.
“Baby, it’s not what you think, I just tripped and he tried to catch me. I’d never do that to you,” you tried to reason. He choked back another sob, looking at you with despair written all over his expression.
“I-I always knew he caught the attention of m-more people, but y-ya said ya loved me! Yer supposed to love me!” He cried. This time, when your hands cupped his cheeks, he didn’t shy away from your touch. Bringing him to lean his forehead against yours, you looked him in the eyes, watching as emotion after emotion swam through them. Hurt. Betrayal. Self-doubt. Anger. Defeat. Each one made your heart chip a little as you registered them. Carefully, your thumb wiped away the tears as you pecked his jaw gently.
“Samu, I do love you. Only you. What’s on your mind? I haven’t ever seen you like this,” you whispered. Finally, Osamu let himself sink into you, emotions pouring out at full force. It was so hard, so incredibly difficult to keep it all bottled in, to pretend like everything was fine, and you were making it so tempting to just pour his heart out to you, even though his mind screamed at him not to. But he was tired, sick of not feeling good enough, sick of feeling second place, sick of watching out from every corner to make sure you remained his, sick of trying to measure up. He just wanted to be worth your love, worth being the one you focused on. Hiccuping, he buried his head into your neck, spilling his deepest insecurities to you, praying that after this, you’d still remain by his side.
“I’m j-just the o-other twin! A-and no one ever pays attention to me, n-not like ya. I don’t wanna lose ya! So,” he took a deep breath, trying to keep it from getting too ragged. “So, I try to be enough, b-but all these people come, and I can’t measure up, and... and I’m scared they’ll take ya away. And everyone always watches Tsumu! H-he’s always being noticed... And then... and then we fought, and you were laying on him, and I thought ya picked him b-because ya were tired of me. Why wouldn’t ya get tired of me...?” He trailed off brokenly at the end. Shushing him, you gently rocked him back and forth, hand smoothing his hair back as you kissed the side of his head. Suddenly, Osamu’s concerns about your tutoring sessions made more sense, and you kicked yourself for not noticing how he was begging you to see that he was scared, scared that you’d leave him for someone who was better in his eyes. Osamu was drowning in his doubts, and you’d only made them worse. So gently, you tilted his head so you could meet his eyes.
“Hey, baby that’s not true. I could never get tired of you. Samu, you’re not just the other twin, you’re Miya Osamu, a guy who happens to be a twin. And I’m dating Miya Osamu, the twin who happens to be the man of my dreams. You’re enough, you’re always enough. You’re the sweet guy who packs me lunch and puts cute little notes in them, you pinch my nose when you walk past me in the hallways, you make cute little faces at me when you look at me during games, you send me funny little videos at night while we’re doing homework, you make little lists of recipes to figure out how to make because they’re my favorite, you text me reminders to do things because you know I forget, you save me the best seat in the stands to watch you play, you ask me to send you a picture of my outfit on cold days so you can bring a jacket that matches because you know I won’t bring one for sake of my ‘outfit,’ you do any and everything to make me feel special and I always feel special with you. Where else could I find that? Why on earth would I let that go for your brother, all he’s good for is eating our food we make when I come over.” He sniffled, smiling a little at the last part. Gripping your waist tightly, he looked you in the eyes.
“Yeah, but I’m not as attention grabbing as other guys. Even people on my team, they have so much attention on them, and the guy yer supposed to tutor is so bold, and I’m just me, ya know? Why do ya want that?” Tracing a thumb over his cheek, you smiled softly at him.
“Because you’re so much better than any of them once you take the time to know you. There’s someone out there for everyone, and you’re the one for me. Atsumu can have someone who’s as obnoxious as him, and I’m sure that idiot I’m supposed to tutor will find someone who likes him being bold, but as far as I’m concerned, I need someone who’s like you, and luckily, you’re here to be that someone. You’re not half of a deal, you’re your own person, and being with you has nothing to do with your brother and his attention or his name okay?” Burying himself into your neck once more, Osamu gripped you tightly, sniffling into your shoulder as tears hit your skin. Quietly, you hummed, holding him just as tight as you let him bask in your affection.
“I love ya, so much. I want it to be ya,” he whispered. Smiling, you pulled him to face you, kissing both his cheeks.
“And I love you too. I love you a lot okay? And I don’t think I’ll love anyone else as much.” And this time, finally he believed you. Finally, he felt the weight of being second best to his brother, second best on the court, second best in choice, being lifted off his shoulders. To you, he wasn’t second, nor was he first. He was the only one. With no one in line, with no other slot, and with not a chance to be replaced. It was just him, no shadows to be lost in. With you, Osamu had his own shadow, the light focused on him, nowhere else to shine but his direction, and he found himself finally able to just breathe. He could be just Miya Osamu, with no other strings attached to his name. He was your Osamu, and the thought made a smile stretch across his lips. One last time, he sniffled before wiping away his tears.
“Wanna come over and make brownies? I know ya love those.” Nodding, you smiled, pecking his nose.
“Yeah, let’s go. We won’t share with Tsumu either, he’s rude and annoying.” Chuckling, he pulled you into a kiss, passionate and slow, hands roaming around your waist. Your hands found their way around his neck, playing with the small hairs at the nape.
“Yeah, Tsumu sucks, my parents don’t like him either,” he joked, eyes bright and heart full. In your arms, Miya Osamu had found the full extent of his worth.
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dourpeep · 4 months ago
The men of Genshin as romance types:
This just kind popped up in my head after thinking about Xiao's characterization! I might add to this in the future, but for now it's just a small list of headcanons + a short blurb :>
Contains: Lots of fluff, lightly suggestive
Features: Albedo, Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc
Note: you can be soft and still top btw, this is only for how they'd be romantically
Albedo is also shown canonically to do little gestures like give people the sketch he did of them to see them smile, this man might seem kinda standoffish at first, but he's not cold
From his voicelines and story, we also know that Albedo is the type of person to think pretty deeply about everything around him
His brain goes 100 miles an hour with all the possibilities and scenarios he can think of
So with his s/o, the best thing that could happen is that he'll take the time to really slow down and unwind
Being a busy, busy man in pursuit of knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension, Albedo rarely gets time off (his sketches are considered research, in a way, no?)
So once he's finally at home, there will be lots of little shows of affection
Passing behind you, perhaps a light touch on your back or shoulder to let you know he's there
On a particularly rough day, he'll sit facing you with his forehead resting on your chest and just--take your hands and put them in his hair
Not really the type to pamper, but there's no doubt of his love
Probably the type of guy to like sitting close in silence
Maybe on the nights you cook, he'll come and wrap his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as he watches you work
Quietly, you lay on the couch tangled up in his arms, the soft sound of breathing and the light warmth you feel lulling you to sleep. It seems that, even though Albedo is left half asleep from a long day of research, he still continues to trace mindless little patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb. You shift, and he hums, pulling you closer.
The man’s been through so much, honestly
He's lost his closest friend, helped a rebellion usurp a tyrant, been through a war that lasted centuries, watched as another friend he'd known since birth fall to corruption (but ultimately was saved)
Point being, he's tired and just wants to have his fun
True to his nature, he likes to tease and poke at his s/o, but nothing that can't be undone (after all, a prank isn't funny if it's permanent)
Hand holding, is a must! Venti is a very affectionate person who isn't afraid to express his feelings when it comes to his s/o
Lots of smooches too! (Please smooch him back)
Speaking of hands and smooches, he's the type to bring your hand to his lips and give each your fingertips a little kiss. They've done so much for you and allow him the joy of holding them, so it's the least he can do!
His type of love is free and sweeter than the scent of cecelias, soft as the wind that kisses your skin
Really, he wants to be able to treasure you as much as he can in the time you have together
Today was a picnic date kind of day. A basket filled with fresh, ripe sunsettias and a few dishes you both worked together to make (mostly you, after what happened with Venti's apple cake) sat on top of a sturdy blanket laid on the grass. Head laid in your lap, the wandering bard strummed idly on his lyre, adding a lovely backdrop to an already perfect day.
Of course, the suave Captain doesn't stop with honeyed words
Mysterious as he is, he takes what he does in stride
If he could spend all his life entwined with you, he'd die a happy man
Kaeya is the type of partner to romance with candlelight and nighttime strolls on the beach
A little cheesy, yes, but all the more to sweep you off your feet
Flirty, he likes to take his time with his love and while he similarly treasures his s/o, it's in the way the fairytales are written
Perhaps a little cliche at times
Nevertheless, he's the type of partner to sweep you into a dance despite there being no music and dip you low (whether you both lose balance and fall is up to gravity)
He'll show his affection physically, whether through a quick kiss when you stop by the Favonious Knight's HQ, or pulling you close when you walk through a crowd on a market day
Teasing is also a big thing, if he can make you blush, his mission is accomplished
In privacy, expect his treatment to be the same--it wouldn't do any good if he leaves his dear s/o confused about how he feels
Once again, you take his hand and he sweeps you into a lively waltz, sweeping across the living room floor. Not once do his eyes leave yours. All he ever needs is the feel of you close and the rush of his heart in his chest that bubbles into something fonder when your laugh reaches his ears.
Not the best with words, Xiao shows his love through his actions
Little gifts, helping now and then with commissions and clearing the road, he'll do it all with no expectation of thanks (should you thank him, he'll be extremely grateful for the recognition but also perhaps unsure how to react)
He doesn't tend towards physically showing affection to his s/o, so when he does, expect them to show his utter devotion
Often, Xiao questions what it is that he did to deserve such a love, but as soon as you appear in his view, it no longer matters because as long as you believe him to be worthy, why wouldn't he be?
His love is based deeply in trust. The heart is a fragile thing and to someone who's suffered so much in his lifetime, he guards it fiercely to protect himself
When he finally does allow himself the comfort of a relationship, he'll soak it up entirely
Nights spent stargazing on the top of Wangshu Inn, pinkies intertwined, or bodies held together tightly with the sweet exchange of breath
Every touch that he offers is gentle, reverent, and serves to remind him that what he's experiencing is real
He tried, really, for the thing on the plate to turn out the way that you usually make it. It's a far cry from what he remembers, but you set it down and bring your hands to his face. The sight of your beaming smile warms him deeply and he pulls you in close for a kiss.
Be still, my beating heart-
Just as he's full of information from the flowers of Liyue to the deepest cracks in the soil, he loves fully and unapologetically
He's lived through many eras and seen so much that it's hard to not want to express how he feels as he feels it
Deeply appreciative of whatever his s/o does and does for him
He indulges in every word, touch, feeling, and look- He's not a greedy man, but when it comes to love? There's a deep desire to feel it all
There are many ways that Zhongli expresses that love, a few being through your daily strolls through Liyue Harbor and the daily and nightly rituals the two of you have settled down into
His favorite is probably the mornings
There's something about waking up wrapped up in your lover's arms, head resting on their chest as the sun's warm beams shine through the windows that's utterly satisfying
Zhongli indulges in these little moments, favoring them over all else
Once in a while, he'll take you back to where your first date was to reminisce, perhaps even (jokingly) mention little embarrassing things either of you did
Zhongli watches as you sip at your drink and admires the way the sun compliments your eyes. You're preoccupied by the falling leaves, it seems, mentioning how they're just as brilliant gold as his. Though the feeling he feels is far from the excitement of butterflies, it has settled into a comforting sort of warmth that hopes you feel as well.
This man's love is wild like his personality
Loud, fun, and never quite predictable, he loves like a whirlwind and with an enthusiasm to match no other
Lots of teasing going on here, to make you blush or to mess with you, you'll never know
But it's his unapologetic fire that drew you to him to begin with
When he's not occupied with work, he'll drag you to go sight seeing
Every experience is a new experience, no matter if it's something that seems so everyday or not
His affection is in the form of tightly held hands (he doesn't want to lose you with how quickly he weaves through the crowd), well-placed winks, and kisses to steal your breath away
He also loves in a way that's fiercely protective. His job is a dangerous one and, with the way he's open with your relationship, his affection serves to protect you
But don't forget that despite his passion, he's a man who deeply treasures those close to him and, as his s/o, you'll be showered with only the best he can give you
It was only a quick break in your day, he'd assured, but it quickly became another round of seeing Liyue through his eyes. In the span of only an hour, you've already spotted an untouched patch of glaze lilies, sampled rich Li-style cuisine and fresh Yue-style cuisine, helped a young girl fetch her kite from atop a tree, and now are working your way (or rather, Childe is working your way for you) to a little area behind the busy streets to show you a pack of dogs he'd befriended. Fondly, you smile and watch as he beckons them out of hiding.
Diluc lives for the way that his s/o brings the best out of him and, in return, he does the same back
He exudes the air of a gentleman with the way he shows his affection, but, whether intentionally or not, in an utterly enticing way
Being busy during the day with running the tavern and the winery as well as at night as the Darknight Hero (he insists you stop calling him that as well, but you don't miss the light flush of pride each time), the time he dedicates to you is left in the early morning long before you leave for the day and the evening as he settles just before he sets off
During morning time, he's often fond of running his hands over you, feeling each dip and curve, memorizing the way your hair falls and the way your lips curve when you smile
It's a quiet sort of passion
His love is expressed in the fond murmurs against your shoulder and head, sharing those moments of deep intimacy both physical and not
In the evenings, you both settle in front of the fireplace, sharing a drink or two
There's sometimes a certain look in his eye that sets your heart aflame in the dimly lit room, and sometimes he sets off a little later that night in lieu of a few more stolen moments with you
Diluc slides into your shared bed in the early hours of the morning, a bit later than usual. The shift stirs you just enough to wake up to two arms pulling you to his chest and a deep breath with his nose buried in your hair. He's no doubt exhausted. Eyes bleary, you turn until you're facing him and loosely wrap an arm around his waist. In the moments you're still half-awake, you hear a low murmur of 'love you' and you smile against his skin.
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creme-bruhlee · 5 months ago
next week [baron zemo x reader]
summary ↠ you're hired to give a message to a german prisoner, but you never expected to actually take a liking to him. pairing ↠ baron helmut zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 2.9k warnings ↠ explicit language, a bit of nonsexual choking, zemo calls you a bitch a/n ↠ after a week, here she is!! also, if there's demand for it... part 2? until then, enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!
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The prison felt cold and unforgiving, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You followed the guard down the halls, twists and turns with no hope of remembering the correct way out.You figured that they had designed it that way on purpose; nobody could leave and escape if the way out was a labyrinth. Finally, you were led to a man sitting at a desk. His eyes followed you as you approached, and it was only once you were fully in front of him did he speak. “Name?” he asked in German, and you cleared your throat. Your German was shaky, but would have to do.
“Zemo,” you replied. “I’m here for visitation with my husband.”
The man laughed a bit. “Pretty girl visiting her man in prison,” he mumbled. “Such a waste. Take off your jacket, Frau Zemo.”
You had no reason to be nervous, but you still shook a bit when you slid your jacket off and held your arms out for the necessary pat-down. But, as you pondered it, you actually had quite a lot to be scared of. The past three days had been hell, for sure. It started with a firm knock on your apartment door in your home of New York City, and you had opened it to see a man with a metal arm and surprisingly kind eyes. He had introduced himself as simply James, and he had told you that he needed you to do something for him.
“I know you’re Sokovian,” James had explained. “I found your name on a registry of citizens that were moved to the US following the Sokovia incident a few years back. If you do this for me, I’ll help you get access to the city ruins. You were young when you lost your parents, yeah? I know the feeling. Not having closure is… Awful. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But, in order to do that, I need you to do something for me?”
You had looked James up and down. “What is the something?” you asked.
“I have a friend,” he began and gave a little wince. “Acquaintance. Umm, I know someone who’s in a German prison right now, and he’s going to be a big help to me and my business partner. All you need to do is go in and give him a message.”
“What sort of message?”
“‘Winter’s coming soon. Next week, I imagine.’ Has to be that, verbatim; don’t say anything about who sent you or why. I’ve already got the meeting and everything set up, you just need to go visit him and give him that message.”
“What does that mean?” you asked.
James had hesitated for a moment, tapping his metal fingers against the arm of his chair. “It’s better if you didn’t know,” he said. “I need as little people involved here as possible. I would go in and give him the message myself, but I’m kind-of a wanted man myself. Will you help us?”
James had been thorough in setting up the meeting, even going as far as purchasing a gently-used set of rings for you to wear. He told you that this man, Helmut Zemo, had been in prison for seven years for a variety of things, the heftiest being murder. “He was justified, though,” James said, and you pretended not to notice his small “I guess.”
The guard said something into his radio unit, and you caught enough of it to know that he was approving you to enter. You knew nothing about this Helmut Zemo other than what James had told you, only the bare basics. Sokovian, had a family that was killed at the same time as yours. According to James, Zemo wasn’t dangerous. He would be more confused than anything, he told you. But, no matter what Zemo did, if he denied he had in you no right, you had to keep with it and deliver the message in a natural way. You were his wife, and you were happy to see him.
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The light flicked on over the bed, and Zemo gave a quiet grunt of disdain. It was four in the afternoon, and he always asked for the light to be off. Four was when other prisoners were granted visitation, but he had nobody. Stupid light must have accidentally been triggered.
“Zemo!” he heard a guard call from down the hall, and he pulled himself from bed and approached the plexiglass divider that separated him from freedom. “I thought you said you don’t have a wife!”
“I don’t!” Zemo called back, an irritated edge in his voice.
He finally saw the guard turn the corner and approach, and his eyes instantly fixed on the girl that was trailing behind him. She was young, much, much younger than him, and strikingly beautiful. Maybe it was the seven years in jail, but he could have sworn that he was looking at an angel. She seemed nervous, and Helmut focused his gaze on the rings on her left hand. Before he could speak up and correct the guard that this woman wasn’t his wife, she spoke up. “My God,” she whispered in a soft English, her voice heavy with a familiar Sokovian accent. “Helmut, you look… Tired, my love.”
Zemo tried to gauge the woman. She seemed too green to be an assassin, so at least that was something. And she knew his name. How did she know his name? “I am tired, mein lieber,” he sighed, and he pressed his palms up against the glass. She stepped closer and did the same, laying her hands just opposite his, and he examined her rings. Small, simple, unassuming. Props. “You’re so beautiful.”
You gave a small laugh, one that you hoped sounded like a woman whose husband had complimented her. Did he really mean it? Or had he caught onto the act as well? He seemed smart, you had to admit. And he was handsome too. Though his eyes were dull and dark with exhaustion, they were still a lovely brown. His hair was messy but showed hints of ginger in the dark locks, and his scruffy facial hair accented his soft jaw. However exhausted he was, he was still quite the looker. And he was the first full-blooded Sokovian that you had willingly met since the incident. “Can I hold him?” you asked the guard, lowering your voice and tightening your throat to try to feign emotion. “Please?”
The guard blinked slowly, and he nodded. He translated the request through his radio, and, just a moment later, there was the loud buzz as the cell door was unlocked, and it slowly creaked open. You wasted no time in meeting Zemo at the door and throwing your arms around him, and he held you with the strength of a thousand men as you dug your face into his neck. He shushed you gently, stroking your back, and he pressed his mouth to your temple in a fake kiss. “Why’re you here?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, praying the guard hadn’t noticed it. “Who are you?”
“I missed you,” you whimpered into his neck. “I’m sorry, Helmut, but I moved to the States, and I couldn’t exactly tell people who I was or who you were or why I was living in New York alone but married--”
Zemo moved his lips from your temple to your mouth, and he captured you in a slow and deliberate kiss. Whatever game you were playing, he would join. What’s a bit of fun? Anyway, seven years was a long time to not even touch a woman. If he wanted to kiss you, you would let him. According to the stories James had told you about his family, you figured that he deserved it.
You finally pulled out of the kiss and embraced the man once more, and you mumbled, “It’s so cold in here, Helmut. How do you manage?”
“I make do, mein lieber,” Zemo said. “At least you’re here to keep me warm now.”
“Not for very long,” you said softly. Then, you looked over your shoulder at the guard, and you asked, “Ten minutes, yes?”
The guard nodded silently, and you turned back to Zemo. “Well,” you started, breaking away from him and passing your hand over your cheek to wipe up (nonexistent) tears. “Show me your room.”
Zemo gave a small smile and took your hand, the one with the rings, and you pulled you into the cell. You weren’t lying; it was awfully cold. The room was devoid of much of anything, just the bed and a small sink and toilet in the corner. Books were stacked up beside the bed, all dog-eared and torn at the corners, and a small woven mat was in front of the bed.
“You’ve taken good care of them,” Zemo said suddenly, and you looked away from the stack of books to see him holding your hand up to see the rings. “I figured you wouldn’t even wear them after…”
“What makes you think that?” you asked gently. “I married you, I’d never pretend I didn’t.”
“I love you,” Zemo said quickly, nearly interrupting your sentence. “I missed you.”
You nodded silently, and Zemo tugged you into him once more. His arms were tight around your waist, his hand stroking up and down your back, and he laid a small kiss on your neck. Zemo kept his mouth at your pulse point for long enough to gauge just how fast your heart was beating, and he nodded to himself. A spy of some sort. But what did you want?
You looked at the glass wall of the cell, and you saw that the guard had stepped away, and suddenly every piece of James’ plan fell into place in your mind. Like James said, he couldn’t give Zemo the message himself, and it would be weird for someone like James’ partner to come visit Zemo in prison, especially after seven years of absolutely nobody, so someone else would have to do. You, a young Sokovian girl, Zemo’s wife, made sense. But after seven years, what wouldn’t make sense was if the married couple’s first meeting was just a conversation through a wall. No, the only way it made sense was if it was a conjugal visit.
Apparently, Zemo had caught onto this quicker than you had. His mouth on your neck pulled away in exchange for your lips, his hands captured your waist, and he tugged you fully into him so that your bodies were flushed together. Your anxiety made a quick squeak fall from your mouth, and you covered it with a giggle; you were sure that, even though the guard was gone, you were still being watched. “Seven years hasn’t dulled your charms, so it seems,” you said, and Zemo laughed.
“Of course not,” he chuckled. His hands slid up your body, carefully delving under your shirt, and he added, “I haven’t seen you in so long, it’s almost like I’m starting from the beginning.” He pulled out of the kiss, and you saw his eyes canvasing you, and he said, “My name’s Helmut. And yours, beautiful lady?”
“Goodness,” you huffed. “You’ve already married me, silly.”
“Indulge me, mein lieber,” Zemo said. Even though it was an act for the security cameras, he truly wanted to know your name. Maybe, with that, he could piece together why you were there. “Won’t you play my little game?”
You rolled your eyes, but played along. You told him your name, and he gave you a tight smile. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he said gently, and you could see that he really meant it. Married or not, you could tell that Zemo-- Helmut-- was grateful for your presence. “Can I offer you a dance, mein lieber?”
You pressed your arms around his neck and laid your head on his chest, and he squeezed you in a tight hug. Softly, he began to hum something in your ear, only for the two of you to hear, and he sighed as the two of you began to sway to his humming.
“Who are you?” he whispered, planting a kiss on the side of your face. “Who sent you?”
You swallowed thickly. You remembered that James had instructed you not to speak of him, and you mumbled, “I can’t imagine how it must feel to be here.”
“What are you talking about?” Zemo snarled, and he pushed his leg in-between yours as an “explanation” for the sudden change in temper. “I asked who you are.”
“Helmut, you have to trust me,” you whispered quickly.
“Trust?” he huffed. “You come in here, lying about yourself, and ask me to trust you? You, the bitch who claims to be my wife? That’s a big ask, sweetheart.”
“I--” you began. You really didn’t want to anger James by breaking from the meticulous plan he had made up, but you were more afraid of the man between your legs at the moment. He was a more urgent threat. You took fistfuls of Zemo’s off-ginger hair and pulled him closer, pressing your forehead against his, and you whispered, “A man came to my apartment two days ago. He said he needed my help, and he told me to come here and deliver a message.”
To the outside onlooker, when Zemo put his hand on your throat, it might have looked innocent. Not truly innocent, but certainly harmless. But it scared you shitless. His fingers were strong, and his thumb dug straight into your windpipe. It hurt, and your throat immediately began to burn with the urge for breath. “I’ll ask again,” he said easily. His eyes were a new sort of dark, not by exhaustion or confusion or arousal, but by rage. “Who sent you here?”
“I don’t know who he is,” you said quickly. “I only know his first name.”
“Which is?”
“James,” you choked out. “Light eyes, dark hair, prosthetic arm.”
Zemo’s grip loosened for only a moment, but then his thumb went back to its place. “He sent you to give me a message, didn’t he?” he asked. “About the winter. What did he say?”
You felt lightheaded, but you tried to stand your ground. “It comes in a week,” you said quickly. “Please let go of me.”
“Why you?” Zemo asked. “Of everyone in the world, why you?”
“My mother was killed in Sokovia,” you said, and fought back the urge to gag. “I only found out because I heard her name on the radio. Her apartment is still there, and James promised me that he could bypass the military blockade and get me there to say goodbye.”
Zemo’s hand fell slack around your throat, then off altogether. He took a small step back, and his eyes fell to the floor as his brain whirred to life. “He lied to you,” Zemo said carefully. “There’s nothing left. Not when I last went, and certainly not now.”
Your heart sank, and you pressed your hand to your neck, right where he had been. “You’re lying,” you said. “Th-There has to be something there.”
“That military blockade is there to keep people from settling on the land,” Zemo said. “Most of it was taken by surrounding countries, but the worst of it was… Is, just barren land. There’s nothing left for you to mourn.”
“How do you know?” you sniffled. “You’ve been in prison for nearly a decade.”
“Because I was there,” Zemo said. “My wife, son, and father were killed there. You wasted your time coming here; James can’t do anything for you.”
You hesitated for a second, then said, “But you can, right?”
Zemo froze. It was momentary, and you wouldn’t have noticed it if you yourself hadn’t said the words that triggered it, but he let out a heavy breath and resumed with the close-quarters dancing, his grip suddenly gentle again. “What makes you think that, mein lieber?”
“I’m not stupid,” you chuckled lightly. “I was young when I lived in Sokovia, but I recognized you when I saw you. Baron Helmut Zemo, locked up in a German prison; how aristocratic is that?”
“I have no power anymore,” Zemo mumbled. Sometimes, he nearly forgot his lineage, especially since the country he served didn’t exist anymore past his memories. “I cannot do anything.”
“Right,” you whispered slowly. “I figured as much... Who is James?”
“A man that I used to know,” Zemo said. “A man that I’ve never been friendly with, which is why I’m surprised that he would seek me out. He didn’t say why he was coming, did he?”
You shook your head, and Zemo laughed humourlessly. “Of course he didn’t,” he mused. “Shouldn’t have expected that… Next week? Guess I have to keep you here, make sure I stay plenty warm, huh?”
“I wish,” you chuckled. “You are rather cute, Helmut.”
Helmut Zemo laughed, the tops of his cheeks going pink. “And you tease me about my charms,” he said, his voice finally above a whisper; suddenly, the act of estranged husband and wife was back. You could easily pass off the bought of anger and crying as Helmut being too passionate, as Sokovians tended to be. “If you don’t watch yourself, Y/N, I might have to marry you all over again.”
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asmosmainhoe · 7 months ago
May I request an Obey me head cannon of the (un)dateables (feel free to add your favorite brothers to it) reactions to MC protecting baby boi Luke from an angel hunter? You don’t have to do it if you fell uncomfortable!
MC protects Luke from an angel hunter
Not to be dramatic or anything, but I'd die for him. Also did you guys notice how much longer my headcanons for the undateables are lmao it's somehow easier for me to write for them than it is for the brothers
Gender neutral MC
Warnings: some angst on Simeon's part and especially Luke's
Admires your bravery and dedication to protect the young angel
Has only seen something like that with Lucifer and his brothers
Very surprised for a second that you, a normal human, go against someone who's trained to kill angels which isn't an easy thing to do
Quickly realizes that you might not stand a chance so he turns into his demon form before intervening
Threatens the hunter and drives him away
Always keeps violence as his last option to solve issues
Falls for you even more after that incident
Seeing you protecting the ones you love with no regard of your own safety makes him look at you in a completely different light
Admires you deeply for it
The man's respect for you was already huge
But after that it hits the roof
Unable to understand why you would fight someone who's way stronger than you
At first thinks that you're going to chicken out as soon as you see the hunter's weapons, but it's the complete opposite
The fire in your eyes burns even brighter than before
It honestly takes his breath away
Has never seen a human as brave as you
Rushes over to you without hesitation and turns into his demon form
Unlike his prince, Barbatos doesn't show any mercy
A person who dares the lay a hand on you deserves at least a couple of broken bones
It's the first time you see the calm and stoic demon go feral
Has encountered angel hunters many times before. More than he'd like
So you could say that he kinda senses it when one is near
Of course he's scared, but something feels so off
He knows that they're not after him, because they'd already be here by now if that's the case
Then the realization hits him and now he's not scared anymore. Simeon is downright terrified
With his entire body shaking he sprints at the destination where Luke is as fast as his legs allow him to
Panting and sweating he watches the scene before him with his eyes wide open
You're the only thing between Luke and the hunter and the look on your face shows that you're not intending to have a nice chat with them
Simeon feels sick just thinking about you also getting hurt so he, being the only one with experience when it comes to the angel hunters, intervens
Doesn't leave your or Luke's side for the rest of the day
Knows how reckless you are
Especially when it comes to the people who are close to you
Never gets particularly worried about you though, because there's always at least one of the brothers by your side
That changes the moment he finds Simeon having a panic attack with an absolutely horrified look on his face
"Simeon, shit, what's wrong?"
The angel isn't able to form whole sentences, only a few words like angel hunter and Luke, but that's all the sorcerer needs to know
He was ready for anything except for the sight before him
A terrified Luke sitting on the ground, shaking and crying
You, standing infront of him, protecting him from the hunter with a fierce expression
Solomon knows you've got no chance of winning, not without any magic powers, so he rushes over to help you
He sees you in a different light from now on, not treating you like a helpless being just because of your lack of powers
Poor boy has only heard of the cruel people who hunt down angel for money or merely because it's fun
Seeing one in real life, right infront of him with the intention to kill is something he never wants to experience again
They've always warned him about them, especially Simeon who has seen the grotesque ways they hunt down their prey many times
Luke always thought of himself as brave, someone who can protect himself and the others around him
But his body refuses to listen to him now
Instead he shakes uncontrollable and can't stop the tears that are streaming down his cheeks like a waterfall
This is the end. It must be. The young boy will face death all alone in hell with no sunlight, no friends, no family, surrounded by demons
Then he spots you. It's as if the roles are reversed. You're his angel now. His savior
He doesn't leave your side after you save him from the angel hunter, clinging onto you for dear life
Begs for you to stay with him, still sobbing and screaming
The sound breaks your heart
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forever-rogue · 4 months ago
Point of View
Tumblr media
Summary | You really don’t know know what someone like Bucky sees you in. But in you, he sees everything.
Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.4k
Warnings | none
Masterlists | Bucky, Main
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“You’re staring again,” you looked up from your laptop, your blue-light glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose as did so. You huffed in frustration as you pushed them back up and looked across the room to find Bucky watching you with a soft expression on his face. He couldn’t help but laugh lightly as you stuck your tongue out at him, “something on my face? Head?”
“No,” he promised with a shake of his head as your brows furrowed and you wondered what he could possibly be looking at, “you’re perfect.”
“You’re funny, sweetheart,” you played him off easily before turning your attention back to your screen and chuckling at him, “I’ll be done soon - you can go to bed without me, Bucky. You don’t have to wait up.”
“I’d rather wait,” he promised, “want to make sure you actually stop and get some rest and don’t stay up working all night.”
“Bucky,” you grinned but didn’t look up, “it’s alright, I can handle myself, but please take care of yourself, Bub.”
“I am taking care of myself by making sure you’re alright,” he promised as slowly stood up and made his way over to you, standing behind you as he watched you for a few moments. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, “I gotta take care of my girl.”
You turned around and looked up at him with a shy expression, “why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m...everything.”
“You are everything,” he insisted, surprised to think that you would think you were anything but, “my everything. Now hurry up so we can get to bed.”
“You’re too much,” his fingers danced along the top of your laptop as he waited for permission to close it. He was really playing it up with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster, and you couldn’t say no to him, “fine! You win this round. But stop being so over the top, silly man, I’m already yours.”
“I’m just being honest,” he quickly shut the computer and pulled your chair back before effortlessly scooping you up in his arms, “you need to learn to trust me and know I always tell you the truth. And the truth is that I am madly in love with you.”
“James,” you rested your head against his shoulder, “I’m in love with you too.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
A light sigh escaped your lips as you sipped your coffee, trying to tune out the noise from the table next to you. You were at your favorite little café, attempting to get some work done, but had unfortunately forgotten your headphones at home. You’d been half tempted to run to the corner store to buy a cheap ‘throw in your purse for an emergency’ pair or even go home and get your nice ones, but had decided against it. You could bear it for one afternoon. had ended up being wrong. It was fine for a while before a group of young women, appearing around your age showed up and occupied the space next to you. It wasn’t that you had inherently had anything against them...but they were loud and unabashed. If you’d had your headphones it wouldn’t have been a problem.
For the most part it wasn’t too bad, but at one point, their topic of conversation shifted and that caught your attention. 
“Captain America is so fine,” of them gushed as you just tried not to roll your eyes. It wasn’t the first and it wouldn’t be the last time you’d heard people gush over Sam, “especially that ass.”
Huh. They were those types of people. Sam was a good looking man, you couldn’t deny that, but it made you cringe a little bit when people just objectified him. 
“But have you seen his sidekick? Whatever they’re calling him nowadays, the White Wolf or whatever? Bucky Barnes?” the girl sighed wistfully as you just subtly cleared your throat. You wanted to turn away, the realistically better thing to do was look away before you hurt your own feelings or got upset, “he’s so hot. Like come on. He always looks so angry - imagine all the hate sex you’d have with him.” 
That was all you needed to hear before you almost slammed your laptop shut and threw it into your bag as you hastily grabbed your coffee to run out of the place. There was something about the whole situation that didn’t sit right with you. They took no mind of you as you left the shop; you stopped by the window and looked back inside at them for a moment. They were all beautiful, each different in their own way but undeniably gorgeous. Bucky would have deserved to be with someone like that. Not someone like you, a plain and average nobody. 
Tears pricked at the back of your eyes as you hiked your bag up on your shoulder as you started to rush home. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Hi honey,” Bucky opened the door, excited to see his favorite person after a long day. You were in the kitchen, finishing some dinner up. You looked up when you saw him, looking as handsome as ever as he kicked off his shoes and almost ran over to you. As soon as he realized that the only thing you were going to offer him was a small smile, he knew something was up, “hey - what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” you said softly as you refused to meet his eyes, focusing instead on the pot in front of you. You knew that he would see through your lies easily if you met his eyes, but he was able to spot it just as clearly now, “just a long day is all.”
“You know I don’t believe that for a moment,” he said softly as he leaned against the counter, watching you for a moment before putting his hand under your chin and turning your face towards his. You swallowed the lump in your throat before shrugging lightly, “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“Buck, please just drop it,” you said softly as you tried to turn away but he wouldn’t quite let it go. You should have known better by now, “it’s nothing, really.”
“Something is bothering you,” he whispered softly, “and I want to know what I can do to help.”
“Drop it-”
“Besides that,” he insisted as you just exhaled heavily before putting your hand on his wrist and pulling his hand away from you. He remained silent as you turned off the stove and finished what you were doing. He didn’t want to push your boundaries or force anything out of you - but he wanted you to be able to open up and share what was going on.
After a few beats of awkward, tense silence, you couldn’t stand it any longer. Despite your best effort, you gave in and crossed your arms over your chest, already fighting back tears as you looked at him, “why are you with me, Bucky?”
“What do you mean?” he raised his eyebrows at you with visible confusion on his face, even though you thought it was so obvious, “we live here together?”
“No,” you sighed lightly, “I mean like why me? Why not some other pretty girl that has something to offer you? I’m just a plain jane nobody. I don’t do anything exciting, I’m not beautiful like those other women that throw themselves at you, I’m”
“Honey, what brought this on?” he took a step towards you, testing the waters to see if you would allow him to touch you. When you didn’t flinch or hesitate, his hands found your face as he gently cradled it in between his hands, a thumb swiping away the single tear that had rolled down your cheek, “I love you - more than I could ever put into words. You’re my girl. What on earth are you talking about? Other women? There’s no one else for me.”
“I was at the coffee shop today, doing some work and this group of women came in and they were so beautiful, and they were talking about you. How good lucking you are, the sex must be great, and blah, blah, blah. It just made me realize that I’m...nobody. Nothing, compared to you,” you sniffled softly, “you could do so much better.”
“You have no clue what you’re saying,” he insisted softly, “I already did so much better - with you. You are far more than I could ever deserve, honey. I love you and only you, no matter what you think. I don’t want anyone else, no matter who they are or what they look like.”
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” his voice was but a mere whisper as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “even for just a moment. I wish you could see yourself from my point of view. You are everything to me - you are my world. How could I not want you?”
“Bucky, I’m just…”
“You,” he insisted again, this time more pointedly as you looked at him with big doe eyes, “you are everything I could ever want and need. I fall a little more in love with you every single day. You’ve always been it.”
“Maybe you don’t see it right now, but I will spend the rest of days trying to show you it’s true,” he pressed a saccharine little kiss to your lips as you tried to hold back your sniffles, “however I can, whenever I can. I swear it. I have eyes for no one else and never will.”
“What about Sam?” you joked as you nodded and wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. 
“Well, Sam would be my second option,” he joked, “he is handsome and a good man. But he isn’t you. So no - there’s no one else but you. Not now, not ever.”
“I just…”
“Do you trust me?” he asked softly as he held out his hand to you. Nodding you put your hand in his and let him pull you along with him towards the bedroom, wondering what he was up to. Ushering you into the room, he moved you so you were standing in front of the mirror with him right behind you. You offered him a confused look before he wrapped his arms around your middle and held you tightly against his body, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 
“Bucky, what’s-”
“Shhh,” he whispered, resting his head on your shoulder, “I don’t think you see what I see. Do you want me to tell you what I see?”
“Mhmm,” you swallowed the lump in your throat as you put a hand on top of his and squeezed lightly. 
“I see a beautiful woman,” he started, sighing contently as he inhaled your warm, familiar smell, “the woman that has loved me from the start, even when I didn’t love myself. The one who saw past all the scars and marks and bad thoughts, the pain and anger. The one who didn’t give me shit for anything, but also didn’t put up with my shit. The one who saw me, the real me, from the beginning. You never treated me any differently than anyone else. You always treated me like a real person with thoughts and feelings. You never turned or ran away when things got hard, and you still don’t. You helped with your words, your touch, your love - all of it.”
“I’m far from finished, honey,” he beamed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, “you are so smart, so ambitious, and you have the kindest heart and soul. You’re the last person to ask for anything, but you always give, give, give. I want to give you everything you give me. Always, I want you to know how much I adore you. I would give you whatever you could ever desire. You are fierce and funny, and good at so many things. You always have this way of making people feel seen and heard. It’s...I am always in awe of you.”
“I love you,” you closed your eyes to hold back some of the tears as you leaned into him, letting his warm, soft words wash over, “so much.”
“And I love you,” he promised, “it’s not only those things, but do you have any clue how beautiful you are? The sweetest smile, with the prettiest eyes. God, you could make me do anything with that smile. I love every part of you, honey, every little mark, freckle, scar, everything you think is an imperfection - all of it. You are beautiful, and you light up the room whenever you walk in. You light up my whole life - you really are my everything. Maybe you don’t see it like I do, but now you know. And before you say what I know you will - you do deserve it. And me - the real question is whether I deserve you. I don’t know if I do, but I’ll work every day to make sure I am.”
“James,” you opened your eyes and met his, finding him watching with a wistful little smile on your face, “you...are everything to me too. You know that. There’s no one else for me either. It’s always been you, Barnes. I love you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” he turned you in his arms so you were facing him and pressed a kiss to your lips, “honey. Will you let me show you how much I love you?”
“Tonight is all about you,” he said in between soft kisses, “you are my world, don’t ever forget that.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
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wooloo-inc · 6 months ago
Hi! I hope you have a great day!
I have a request:
The idea:
-Reader and Dream are enemies,and Reader visits onces him inside the prison,after hearing about he has Schlatts book that can revive people. The Reader tries to bring it up while visiting him,but the alarms goes off and they get locked up together for a whole week.
How Sapnap,Awesamdude,Fundy,Technoblade and (platonic!)Ranboo would react getting the information they s/o are locked in w/their enemies inside the prison?
(You can make it angsty as possible,I just haven't seen any ideas where the Reader get stuck w/him.)
Thankyousomuch 💗💓💝💖
 angst is so fun to write
Warnings: death, suicide, blood, description of injuries, panic attacks, etc
. . .  
You always hated Dream. Since the day he showed up with that smirk of his, to the second he started hiding behind the gaudy white mask. You two always seemed to be on opposing sides. You knew from the moment you met him, that he was bad news. Not many understood your deep hatred for the green-clad man, until Punz spoke out about the bastard’s plans. When you all emerged from the portal, clad in armor to see the blood-soaked figures of Tommy and Tubbo; well you almost killed Dream yourself. 
You could feel his glare on your body as you smiled smugly at his downfall. You even had the honor of escorting the villain to the prison, wanting nothing more than to see him rot. You didn’t plan on visiting him ever, but with word of a revival book, you knew that you needed to. Plenty of people were losing their lives, some of your closest friends with only one life left. The book would be immensely helpful for saving those who didn’t deserve to die so young. 
So, here you are stripped of all your armor and items at the entrance of the prison. Awesamdude shows clear hesitation about allowing you into the prison, knowing of your horrible relationship with Dream. You turn down his offers at leaving, trudging through each effect of the potions the prison has to offer. And now you glare down at the lava, watching as it falls slowly down, revealing the cell of the monster. With a small whisper of ‘goodluck’ from Sam, you’re sent forward across the lava pit. 
The lava falls back down once you are inside, trapping you with him. He looks sly, even if his appearance is messier than ever. The orange prison suit weighs heavily against his shoulders, reminding him of what he has done. His white mask is nowhere to be seen, it must’ve been tossed along with the rest of his items. 
“So you do care about me.” He teases although the playful words don’t reach his eyes. 
“You know I could never care about you.” With a huff you lean against the obsidian walls, taking in the interior. For someone who used to have so much power, he has the bare minimum in the cell. A lone bed sits in the corner with a small chest across from it. He stares at a small clock on the wall, watching the time pass by slowly. He turns to look at you. 
“Then why did you come visit me?” 
“You know why I’m here.” 
It’s silent while he looks at your face. He knows why you’re here, many others visited after hearing about his possession of Schlatt’s book. A book with the power to bring back people from the afterlife. But, he didn’t expect you to show up. How unfortunate. Before you can utter another word, a blaring alarm sounds throughout the entire building. The obsidian walls shake briefly, pieces falling to the floor from above. Harshly, you grab onto Dream’s collar shoving him up against a wall. 
“What the hell did you do?” He laughs, his rough hands clamping onto your own. 
“I didn’t do anything, sweet-cheeks.” He laughs again, wildly as you call out for Sam. The guard doesn’t respond back right away, the alarm continuing to go off. A quiet beep mutters from your receiver in your pocket, the one object visitors are allowed to keep. The message sends a chill down your spine, making you reread it multiple times. 
Someone attacked the prison, you’ll have to stay put for now. I don’t want to do this, but you know the rules. You’ll have to stay with Dream for a week. I’m sorry. - Awesamdude 
He wants to throw up when he first hears the news
Sapnap just visited Dream in the prison last week, he knows first-hand that the man has changed so much
Dream has always been more cruel than the rest of the dream team, never hesitating to take the last strike 
He begs Awesamdude to let you out of the prison, fearing what Dream would do
You and Dream hate each other, always getting into brawls 
The masked man used to rant about wanting to see your blood spill onto the floor
Sam tries to convince him that everything will be alright; neither of you have weapons and you’ll be watched carefully by others guards 
Oh how Sam wishes that he could believe his own words to be true 
The lands were silent when the faint beeps of the receivers echo in the air 
y/n tried to swim in lava to escape Dream 
Karl and Quackity are quick to his side, as Sapnap collapses 
He can’t cry, only feeling a deep emptiness 
He will blame himself for letting you visit Dream, saying it should’ve been him 
Even though it wasn’t your last life, it still struck deep inside of him
The possibility to lose you to his old best friend, churns in his stomach and he retches 
You don’t lose another life while spending the rest of the week in the prison, but when you finally leave, you’re practically dead 
Bags sit under your eyes, burns and bruises across your arms 
You smile weakly at Sapnap, flinching when he tries to hug you 
His heart practically breaks when you return home and ask for permission to eat or talk 
Whatever Dream did must have been horrible, to break your spirit 
He will return to the prison, leaving you in the care of Bad, while he ‘talks’ to Dream 
He doesn’t want to leave you with Dream, not trusting the man one bit
Sam knows what he has done to Tommy, and fears the same happening to you
He wants to let you go, or even into another cell but the other guards won’t let him
‘It won’t be fair if they get different treatment just for being your s/o.’
‘The reputation of the prison will be ruined, they’ll know you’re biased.’
‘It is only a week, what is the worst that could happen?’ 
With a heavy heart, he delivers the bad news, nearly choking when you cry out for his name 
He tries to check in on you each day, but you respond less and less until the messages stop 
He can’t stop the negative thoughts from entering his brain and has to keep himself busy to avoid them 
When a week is over, the other guards have to hold him back from running into the cell 
He can see you laying on the bed in the cell, Dream sitting nearby
When the lava is gone, Sam waits for you to rush across the pathway but you don’t even move
Dream looks across the room, smiling darkly when he catches the guard’s gaze 
He stands and slowly walks over to the bed, barely letting his eyes drop from Sam’s
With little remorse, he yanks onto your shirt dragging your limp body behind him
In a smooth movement, Dream pushes your body over the edge of the cell, letting you fall to the lava below 
You don’t scream, cry or even fight while sinking into the fiery liquid 
The receivers don’t light up with a message, Sam sinking to the floor as he realizes you have been dead for days 
That is why you stop messaging him, that is why you didn’t respond or fight
Dream already killed you and was keeping your body in the cell 
The guards have to usher him away as the lava falls once more, Dream’s laughing filling the prison 
Sam didn’t even get to say goodbye
He didn’t get to say that he loves you 
If he doesn’t pass out from the news, he will throw up 
He feels sick and tries to convince Sam to let you out 
He thinks of threatening to break into the prison, but holds his tongue knowing you wouldn’t want him to get hurt 
Fundy will stay inside of your shared house, struggling to find any comfort 
He’ll wear your hoodies, or hold them while laying in bed, pretending that you are there and not trapped away 
He fears that he will wake up to see that you’ve died while in the prison 
He struggles to take care of himself, not knowing how you are doing 
Fundy already lost his father, he doesn’t want to see you go as well 
You don’t die in the prison, but that doesn’t make the situation any better
He greets you at the exit after the week, but you’re all shaken up
You barely speak when he guides you back home, simply holding yourself as your walk
He is afraid to leave you alone, but knows he can’t stick but your side forever
It is on a day like any other, weeks after the incident that he leaves you alone
Not even an hour after he leaves the house, his receiver chimes ominously 
y/n was killed by magic 
Memories of your suspicious actions, requests to visit the nether, and desire for spider eyes all come rushing back to him at once 
You created a harming potion to kill yourself 
He stops speaking to everyone, not even finding the strength to attend your funeral 
He struggles to sleep after your death, the bed cold 
He doesn’t get visitors often, especially nice ones
So when he sees Awesamdude outside of his house, he is guarded and ready to fight
The guard doesn’t pull out a weapon, bluntly giving the news to Technoblade
Even though he appears calm on the inside he is shaken to the core 
His hands are shaking slightly, gripping tighter onto his sword
The voices in his head are screaming, loudly overlapping each other 
Knowing that Sam won’t let you out of the prison, Techno rushes to the nether fortress taking his anger out on wither skeletons
The voices don’t quiet down as the week goes on, all agreeing on their worry for you
Philza has to practically drag him to the house to take care of himself, reminding Techno that you would want him to 
When the week is over, he is rushing to embrace you as you exit the prison
You sink into his grasp, holding on tightly to his cloak 
You’re practically sobbing while he walks you back home 
His red eyes burn darkly at the sight of blood and bruises lingering on your skin
Once home, he will get you a change of clothes and run a bath for you
He didn’t mean to walk in on you changing, an apology catching in his throat when he sees your back 
On the side of your shoulder is a smiley face, the wound a bright pink from irritation 
Dream carved his signature smile into your skin 
He drops whatever he has and runs forward, a stern hand holding you in place as he inspects the cut
Techno holds you tight, feeling horrible about what you’ve been through
He fantasizes about the different ways he could kill Dream as revenge 
It is possible to snap him out of his bloodlust state, but the thought will always be in the back of his mind 
No one touches his s/o and gets away alive 
Ranboo (Platonic): 
He doesn’t remember Sam or any of the guards telling him the news
In fact, he only finds out by going through his memory books
Written messily in dark ink is a newer note, that you are trapped in the prison with Dream 
He stumbles to his panic room, feeling his chest tighten and eyes burning 
Philza finds him later on, rocking back in forth in the corner 
Ranboo stays in Techno’s and Philza’s house for the week, not wanting to be alone 
He gets frequent night terrors, waking up from nightmares around your death 
Dream’s voice barely speaks in his mind the entire week, not a comforting occurrence to the hybrid 
He is waiting outside of the prison on the last day, wanting nothing more than to see you and Sam walk out 
It is taking longer than he expected, his tail swishing anxiously behind him
Tubbo reaches out to place a hand on his back, trying to comfort his friend 
Finally, Sam emerges from the portal, you walking behind him 
Ranboo doesn’t need to talk to you to tell something is wrong 
You are walking with a limp until you stop before the two
Sam apologizes flatly and returns to the prison 
Tubbo tries to start a conversation first, feeling awkward when staring into your abnormally dull eyes
“Why are you talking to me. You are not my friend.” You glare at Tubbo and turn your anger to Ranboo. “Dream is my only friend, he was there for me while you guys were busy building a hotel. My real friends would’ve been there for me.” 
You walk past the two, bumping into them on purpose
He can only watch as you walk farther away, unsure of how to even respond 
What did Dream tell you to make you act this way? 
Tears fall down his cheeks, burning his skin lightly as he cries 
But the pain cannot rival that of losing his friend
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alcottsangel · 4 months ago
Shower 2 {Kaz Brekker x reader}
Summary: Y/n and Kaz talk about the chances they have for a future. Fluff, Angst.
Warnings: Kaz talks about his past and trauma.
This was requested by the lovely @bellarayel <3
Part 1:
Kaz Brekker was embarrassed.
It was something so unlikely, something absolutely crazy. The bastard of the barrel was never embarrassed. He made others embarrassed for the things he did.
But he couldn't pull this move on Y/n.
And, for fucks sake, Kaz couldn't stop worrying what would happen if she would tell anyone.
The tension between them was visible, even to blind eyes. The crows could easily guess that something had happened between.
They just couldn't figure out what exactly.
Y/n wasn't embarrassed at all. She never felt this confident in her entire life.
There really wasn't a reason to be, he was the one that walked in on her showering, he was the one who decided she was attractive enough to stay. He decided she was worth it. Of course that pushed her confidence.
Y/n was mercilessly teasing Dirtyhands with nonsense, that only the two could understand.
Kaz was always looking away, scoffing as if it was nonsense to him too, but they all knew better. Something had made Kaz Brekker uncomfortable, and the Bastard of the Barrel tried his best to not let anybody see it.
It was a thursday, to be exact four days after the incedent. Y/n was gambling with Jesper, clearly winning and giggling after she took yet another shot of vodka.
„Jesper, you hideous idiot, if you're loosing another round I demand two shots!" The women cried out, slapping her cards on the table to reaveal a royal flush. Jesper sighed. „If anything, I'm not hideous. I'm breathtaking, bet that Wylan will confirm that. But if I win, you will pay me back everything I've lost today, darling."
Wylan leaned against Jesper, looking between his two friends, knowing well that Jesper would loose either way.
„Maybe you should let it be now."
„No way!" Y/n gasped. „I'm not going to end the evening already. I have nothing to do tomorrow next to going out for waffles with Nina in the evening. If I have the chance to sleep in late, I at least want to have a valid reason for that. And that is either staying up for hours or having a hangover."
Both, Wylan and Jesper chuckled softly. „Maybe you should stop drinking anyways. You already had enough." Wylan noticed now. Y/n made a grimace. "But that would be so boring."
In that moment she looked to the door and spotted Kaz Brekker himself entering the Slat. „Anyways both, enjoy youself. I think I just found my alternative." She winked and stood up, walking towards Kaz.
„What do you want Y/n?" Dirtyhands asked, without even looking at her. „Why do you think that I want anything from you?" Y/n asked sweetly, looking up to him with big eyes. Kaz sighed.
„Because the entire week you only ever approached me to bother me." Kaz walked the stairs up to his attic.
Y/n looked back to Jesper and Wylan, grinned and followed the Bastard of the Barrel.
Right before his door, he turned around on his heel, causing her to pause only inches away from him.
She didn't dare to breathe, but she could feel his breath on her skin.
„Listen, I know what I did shouldn't have happened. But it's not something you should tell anyone either, for both of our sake."
She breathed in deeply once.
„It didn't bother me."
Kaz asked, almost surprised.
„If it would've bothered me, I would have said something while you were still in the bathroom. I didn't. Kaz, your presence never bothers me." Her voice was so low, that it only reached him as a whisper.
Kaz looked down the floor, before he opened
his door and walked into his room. She sighed, but the moment she looked into his face, she realised he expected her to follow him.
Once she was in, he closed the door behind her again. The young women watched silently as Kaz undressed his coat and hat.
"What do you expect me to do with that information." Kaz turned to her again, when he had finished. Y/n shrugged.
"I just felt like you deserved to know. There's no need for you to feel bad about it." She told him honestly. "I know I'm stunning, I would've stayed too." The young women then joked.
She didn't know how to keep the conversation serious, when the situation was something so unlikely.
If Kaz could, he would kiss her. He would make a step forward and take her face in his hands, and then he would put his lips on her and snog her as if there wasn't a tomorrow.
He had that instict, for a split second.
But Kaz couldn't.
And she didn't deserve that. She deserved all the love in the world, for every moment she brought joy to it with her youthful character a bit more. He couldn't give that to Y/n.
He looked down, disappointed in himself.
She noticed. "Kaz..." Y/n said softly, moving closer to him. He made a step back. She stopped. "I really don't know what else to do, or to say." She looked down too. "Where is this supposed to go, Brekker?"
"Nowhere." He answered silently.
"Nowhere?" She reassured herself, her voice turning lower. "Yes."
Y/n scoffed and started biting her lip.
"In that case I will stay away from you. Sorry to bother." She snapped, as she turned to leave.
The moment her hand landed on the doorknob, Kaz opened his mouth.
"It's not that I don't want it." He said.
Y/n didn't turn around to face him. She leaned her forehead against the door and waited for him to continue.
"But I can't. Really. I could never give you what you want. I can't even give that to myself."
She smiled bitterly. "And that is?"
"I couldn't touch you. Not in any way. Maybe what I did gave you wrong hopes for that.
If someone would touch me, I would loose my mind. And really, I would if I could. I want to kiss you and touch you and feel you. The moment I saw you standing in the shower I knew it.
And you don't know what it feels like to fall in love with you. You don't know what it's like when I can't change it. And how could I have you, when I'm always bound to loose the people I care for. How can I have you, when I will cause you such trouble."
Y/n could feel her eyes tear up.
"I only loose my mind when I aint got you.
You don't know what I want, Kaz Brekker.
Because if you would, you'd know that I only want you. And I could live with all the ups and downs. I know I can. It would be worth it."
She finally turned around. Kaz looked like a mess. She had never seen him like that.
He seemed so vulnerable, so honest.
"I can't speak for you. But I've made my decision. I want you, and I would pay every price. You know shit about my needs, and you don't have the right to decide something like this for me. So if you want it, and if I do, I don't see why we won't just try."
They looked each other in the eyes for several moments. In that moment, they had let each other seen what was going on in depths of their souls. Kaz pushed himself away from the table he leaned against and walked over to Y/n.
As close as he could.
And he took off his right glove. Without cutting the eye contact, he carefully placed his hand on her cheek. He could feel his heart beat faster, the panic starting to take over. But Kaz stood still. Listening to her calm breathing, watching her lips trembling, feeling her tears on his hand. She wasn't cold, or lifeless.
Her cheek was warm and soft and she smelled like apples and chocolate and a tiny bit like the cigarettes the Dregs smoked downstairs.
Kaz closed his eyes. She didn't feel like Jordie.
She didn't feel like a corpse. She felt alive, and welcoming and comforting and he could feel the panic leave.
Kaz was proud. Y/n was prouder.
And suddenly they felt as if they had a future.
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