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carnationworld-writings · 2 months ago

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The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife.

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford fanfic #angela lopez #nyla harper #tw: pregnancy #tw: divorce #tw: childbirth

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astayinwonderland · 1 year ago

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"After all, you're my wife." | Choi San

pairings: san x f.reader

genre: smut | fluff (if you squint)| +18 minors DNI

this is a mix between a poll and a request by @elfemi

summary: you marry san to make an alliance, and the agreement includes to live separate lives, but both of you seem to want each other (mafia!au)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san calls you his little pet, cursing, degrading, praising, unprotected sex (pls no), cum play, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of violence (not towards reader) and drugs -- lmk if I forgot anything

Enjoy! (;

There are two things you have very clear. Your dad is dead and you fucking hate Choi San. Inheriting the position of mafia leader was your birthright, your dad raised you to be that woman. However, not everyone wants to see a woman in such a powerful position, to their misfortune, you were the late mafia boss’s only child.

When your father fell ill, you knew it was time to get your position as leader and boss secure. That meant allying with someone rich and powerful. You were surprised that all eligible bachelors were too old, too young, or not powerful enough.

Theo was standing behind you as your eyes scanned the guests your dad’s most trusted assistant invited for a ‘get-together and mingle with the corrupt elite of the country. He had become like an uncle to you, a genuine part of the family. With his kind eyes, but cold demeanor, he is the perfect person to have your back.

“What about him?” Theo said.

“Ugh no…”

“You can’t keep saying no to everyone. Choose or I will choose for you tonight,” your dad finally spoke. Eyes not looking at you. This is not his favourite idea ever, but it was necessary.

You couldn’t picture yourself with any of these men, but it was your duty. So you tried your best to be somewhat amicable and get to like at least one of them. With your wine glass in hand, you decided to talk to your pursuers. They would throw themselves at your feet, showering with compliments, showing off their riches, and to be honest being completely obnoxious. This is not what you needed. You needed someone who you could make a deal with and live separate lives while keeping the façade of a marriage.

Shit, this was going to be hard.

The door opened and at that moment you knew something was off. The entire room fell silent when the man with broad shoulders and shiny black hair walked in. His face was expressionless, with high cheekbones, and not a trace of sympathy. You would think he would come to greet you, that’s the reason why he is there, but he just bows in your direction and walks over to the bar.

The conversation around you resumed, whispers commented on the politician’s son. His father was a powerful drug lord who controlled one of the borders. No wonder he has so much influence. Your brain made a quick list of pros and cons, and so it seemed Choi San would be the right choice for you.

___________________________________

San was aware his father was a criminal but when he was pushed to marry you, he did everything he could think of to change his father’s mind. He begged he asked to be sent away, hell, he even asked for physical punishment. But Mr. Choi was a greedy, greedy man, and he saw in you an opportunity to be even greedier, richer, and more powerful. This was truly the perfect alliance.

Your dad’s body wasn’t ever cold yet when San got the call and the whole marriage circus began to play. At least the ceremony would be short and he would get to move into his room in your mansion and get it over with. San only met you that one time, but he remembered very well how you looked. In one word, terrifying. You would make the perfect fake wife.

San watched you walk toward him dressed in black, a dress that covered your legs right above the knees but left little to his imagination from the way the cleavage showed off your round and soft breasts. He just politely nodded at you. At the end of the day, there was nothing to celebrate, your dad was dead and he had to pretend to be your loving husband for the rest of his life or until something or someone killed him.

With no kiss to seal the deal, San just signed the papers and tried to give you a smile, which was awkward.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said.

You returned the smile, less awkwardly, and patted his shoulder. For a split second, San saw something in you, maybe kindness, but that was all forgotten when you two started living together.

_____________________________________

“Yeah�� fuck, don’t fucking stop, don't fucking—” your voice bounces on the walls, you are so close.

“Ah.. ah!” the deep voice behind you moans as he cums way too soon.

San closes his eyes across the hallway. Why do you have to be so fucking loud? To be honest, he wishes he could shut you up once and for all. Moving in with you was necessary, he understands that, part of the arranged marriage and your agreement. However, San never imagined how opinionated and bossy you could be. One thing was your role as the new mafia leader, another thing was you ordering him around the house like some unloved pet.

Tonight, nonetheless, San wouldn’t take that anymore, so he did something unexpected. He left his bedroom and went looking for you. Was he out of his mind? Probably, you specifically instructed to ‘stay the fuck away’ and since your marriage was fake, you could find carnal pleasure with anyone you wanted.

San walked out of his bedroom. His pajama pants hanging low, his shirt forgotten somewhere in his room. He still wore his reading glasses and his black hair was wet, and slicked back. Your bedroom door abruptly opens and an unfortunate man flies out of your room. He is in his underwear trying to flee the scene grabbing his clothes as your upset persona watches not too far from the door. San’s curious eyes find your figure, and my oh my, what on earth are you wearing?

If San didn’t know any better he would be jealous of the thin piece of clothing that gets to touch your soft skin. You have no shame as you stand there in front of your husband. The peach, sheer dress dances loosely on your body, however, it shows off your beautiful body. San can see your nipples hardening under such a provocative piece of clothing as his eyes scan even further south to find the core of your intimacy unclothed.

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask.

“N-no, I was just… taking a break from reading. I couldn't focus,” he crosses his arms across his chest and something in you wonders how you never paid any close attention to those broad shoulders and itty bitty tiny waist.

“Was I being too loud? Apologies.”

“Not at all, I believe you can be louder… with the right encouragement.”

The audacity. He can’t speak to you like this… he has never done something so daring. Your heart races and a familiar heat travels from your chest down to your legs.

“Go to your room, San,” you scold him and close the door.

San rolls his eyes. He has had enough of you bossing him around as if he was your puppy or servant. So on this night, Choi San decided something. He will make you see him for what he is, an important part of your alliance, a capable, fierce man, and your husband.

______________________________

The days pass and you haven’t seen much of San. You haven’t seen him at all. Is not a surprise not to see him or know of him for a day or two, however, it’s been 9 days since you had your little after-hours encounter. You sit in front of various members of the cartel and trusted members of the mafia your father once led. Theo, your father’s favourite and now your confidant, continues to sit to the right of the boss, you.

“We are losing territory, it’s like we don’t have enough people from our side…” one protests.

“The matter is getting resolved. I suspect there is someone infiltrated in one of our negotiations or maybe lines have been tapped–”

You are cut mid-sentence when the doors are almost torn from their hinges and your husband enters the room. He is agitated, pulling a beaten man by the collar of his crimson-stained shirt, the same crimson colour that decorates San’s knuckles and hands. The stranger is pushed and kicked to your feet, and you almost feel pity for his bruised face.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, love,” San starts, leaving that last word resonating in your head. “This little rat here has something to tell us, don’t you?” San walks over to him and pulls him by the root of his hair making his eyes meet yours. “Look at my wife when you speak, scum, or do I need to break the rest of your fingers one by one?”

And now you see it, his left hand, disfigured, broken bones making his muscles swell under his skin.

“Speak,” you command.

“I– I know who’s been feeding information to Viggiano.”

As soon as you hear the name you stand from your chair and grab his face.

“You better start talking before you lose your tongue as well,” you look at the disheveled man, then back at San. His eyes have such an intense glare, you’ve never seen him like this. It makes the hairs on your back rise.

“Pl-please no, I–” as the man stutters he keeps looking past you, which makes you turn to see Theo standing right there. The kindness in his eyes was now replaced by threat and fear.

“No…” a small gasp leaves your lips.

“You are never going to be the right person to lead, everyone knows–” Theo starts.

Slap! You can’t believe the speed at which your body moved to hit your so-called uncle across the face. Two of your guards grab him by the arms, waiting for your command, but San is quicker. He bumps the disheveled man’s head with the table, knocking him unconscious. Like a predator to its prey, he walks towards Theo. You don’t see it coming but one punch from San and Theo is coughing blood.

“That’s enough, San. You can go now.”

San is in disbelief, but he lets out a deep chuckle that makes you and your company know he is indeed annoyed by your decision.

“I want his nose and ears cut off, for being a liar and an eavesdrop, send them to Viggiano,” you walk towards the door. “Sleeping beauty over there loses his tongue. I want them both dead by midnight… oh and let this be an example of what happens if you betray your boss,” you finally exit the room, listening to the ‘yes ma’ams’ behind you.

The night seems to be the longest one you’ve ever lived. This is not the first tough decision you make, but this is the first time someone close betrays you, and it hurts. It hurts bad, so you cry in the loneliness of your room. You curse. You throw things around and you scream. Everyone has been instructed not to bother you, except for one person.

“May I come in?” San’s voice is soft outside the door.

“Leave me alone!”

San enters your room regardless and nothing stops him from getting to you. He holds your wrists.

“You need to stop bossing me around, I know you are upset but I am not your puppy or your slave.”

“You disappeared for 9 days and came home with a big surprise. Great! But you mean nothing to me, Choi San, and I mean nothing to you! Just get out before I call the guards.”

“Nothing to you? Nothing to me!?” he is even more shocked than before and you see in his eyes that look he gave you when you got married but now it is enhanced. It is sympathy. It is agony. It is lust, pain, and love. Deep down you know he means something to you or you would have him dragged out of your room in this very minute.

You don’t get to answer when San’s lips are already on yours and you find yourself kissing this handsome man back. This handsome man is legally your husband, but you have never kissed before. His lips are hungry and wanting, making you thirst for him as your tongues collide and his needy hands cup your ass.

“See how lovely it can be when you don’t boss me around and you shut up.”

Fuck.

The wetness between your legs just grows and you have no words to answer back. His mouth is on your delicate neck, oh he needs to make a work of art here, your skin looks like it could bruise easily. San sucks on various points, his tongue lapping over the marks he leaves behind. Your moaning goes from soft to breathy and impatient. One of your hands reaches under your nightgown and San slaps it away.

“No, love, you don’t get to relieve yourself until I fucking say so. Now be a good pet and strip for me, would ya?”

You take off your clothes as fast as you can, pathetic. A week ago, San was just the most annoying housemate, a convenient inconvenience, but now you’re here naked in front of him. His eyes are dark scanning your body, planning how he is going to ruin you, and you are going to let him do as he pleases.

“On your knees.”

And you drop to your knees looking up at his adoring face with a wicked smile. He lowers his pants just enough for you to see his cock already leaking for you.

“Such a good pet, would you help me out?”

You continuously nod and pull his pants further down. His cock is beautiful, perfect, just like him. Slightly curved, just the right thickness, and a bit longer than average. You spit on it and start with your hand, jerking him off, up and down, up and down. Without interrupting the pace you lick his balls and earn the most sensual moan from San’s lips. So you put your mouth to work. You put him between your wet needy lips and push him in, sucking, tasting all of him. San’s breath is heavier when you start bopping your head up and down. He suddenly grabs your hair and takes control, fucking your face and watching you take it. To his eyes, you were already so beautiful, but this is something else.

“See how beautiful you look with your mouth shut, so obedient, now be a good wife and take this cock.”

You moan at his words, how can they make you so horny when you had no plan of sleeping with him. The vibrations in your throat send San spinning and he is too close to cuming, but not yet. He pulls out of your mouth and helps you up, and with a slap to your ass, he takes you to bed. He signals you to straddle him. You normally don’t like eye contact with your sexual partners but there is something about San that makes it different.

“Fuck yourself on my cock and I only want to hear how good it feels, okay?”

You sit on his cock slowly, letting yourself adjust to his length and girth. When you start to bounce on top of him, San has to use all of his willpower not to drill into you like some kind of wild animal, he can do that any other time if you let him. The way you are making him feel is ecstatic. Your tits moving up and down so close to his face he has to suck on them. The feeling of his tongue on your nipples makes you want to cry for pleasure. You let out a high-pitched moan.

“Words, little pet, I wanna hear them– fuck,” San throws his head back as your pace becomes quicker. He slaps your ass, once, twice.

“I love it, I fucking love it, San… fuck. I like it right there, so fucking perfect. I want you to fucking split me in half,” you just let words out, words derived from the ecstasy of having his cock buried deep inside you.

And that was the queue for San to let go and fuck you like he wanted. Like you wanted. He now fucks you faster than the pace you set earlier. His hands bruising your hips, the skin-to-skin contact adding even more passion, and his eyes… His eyes on yours making you feel his, making you feel safe, making you feel you can let go and–

“Fucking shit, I’m gonna cum… fuckfuckfuck!”

And San holds you while your body trembles and your high makes your brain explode into a thousand little particles of pure lust and sin. Fuck the way your heart races, you can hear it in your ears. He puts you on the bed and your reaction time doesn’t catch up with your brain when your legs are wrapped around his waist and he is entering you.

“San…” you whisper.

He stops. He is unsure if this is too much and he is willing to stop.

“San, San, San…” you keep saying his name like a plead, a prayer to the heavens as your hips move forward. You want more.

“Bet. No one. Ever. Fucked you. Like. This.” San says between thrusts so deep you can feel him in your cervix. “Look at you all fucked out, my obedient pet, taking my cock so well, wanting to cum again. Is that what you want?”

You nod desperately, anything for another intense orgasm with him. You only want this with him. His hands touching you, his moans on your ears, his voice commanding you to cum again and again.

This time San fucks you slower, you can feel every inch of him inside you as you clench around his erection encouraging him to keep going. He grabs your thighs to pull you even closer to him, angling your hips higher making you not say his name, but scream it.

“Yes, fuck, keep saying my name just like that.”

So you did as he entered you, ruining you for any other man who dared match him. You were his, the man who saved your life and fucks you into oblivion. Now you were close, so close to your climax and you needed to cum like oxygen itself.

“You don’t get to cum without me, hold it like the good pet that you are,” he says struggling to make a coherent sentence, he was very close too.

You try hard not to cum before he does, but looking at him sweaty, chasing his high, fucking you as no one has done before does something to you. Your hands squeeze your tits together while your eyes close, trying to last longer. San could have combusted with that sight alone.

“Cum– cum now… fuck!”

The tightness in your belly is now free as you both cum. It is so fucking loud that your head hurts. His seed spills deep inside you and if you felt full before, now it’s even better, your legs feel like gelatin. San gently places them down. You are thinking he will probably leave you to go back to his room but he does the unexpected.

His thumb is over your extremely sensitive clit and two of his slender fingers push his cum back inside you. You scream closing your legs. He smiles.

“You need to take it all, love,” that’s it… the dom session is over and he uses that word that makes your heart flutter.

“I can’t.”

San licks your clit, tasting the mix of both of your releases. His fingers thrust in slowly, slightly angling up until you squirm under his touch.

“Ah, right there? You like it there, love?”

“Mmmm-ugh yesfuck…ah–” you babble.

San continues his tortuous pace until he latches once again his mouth to your clit. You see stars, you don’t know how your body is taking this, it is so fucking good, he is so fucking good. The way he keeps you on edge and makes you want more and more. Fuck, you can’t even think and you feel your body about to orgasm but something is different.

“San, San… stop. I’m gonna–” and you squirt, drenching him in your juices.

“That’s a good girl.” He licks your entrance once last time before collapsing beside you, his arms open inviting you to rest on his broad and hard chest.

“You are not allowed to sleep in the other room anymore. From now on you sleep here, okay?”

“You’re ordering me around, but I will follow your command. After all, you are my wife,” he hugs you tightly.

__________________________________

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ —this took me forever but I am in love with this san! reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you would like to be part of the taglist.

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absurdthirst · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 2024: October 31st

Day 31: FREE FOR ALL

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Breeding ceremony, voyeurism, public sex, helmet stays on, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, breast play, multiple rounds, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Din! Din! Din!” The screams of pleasure echo throughout the halls, the rubble cleared and the forge once more lit. Mandalore is inhabited by Mandalorians again and now, new life is being conceived.

Visors and eyes are fixed on the dias, the platform providing a unique view of the bed that has been placed there for this purpose specifically. Watching as your body writhes and shakes.

Your vision is hazy, clouded with lust and all you can see is the flash of beskar on his helmet as you bounce on his cock. The thick length feeling like he is pushed up into your throat while you rock on him. The jorgon juice that you had both drank before the ceremony making it hard to stop even though you have cum multiple times already. Your cunt leaking with his spend from countless orgasms.

****

“Din Djarin.” You turn your head, hearing his name being called and nerves flutter in your stomach. No one can see it, it doesn’t show on the expressionless visor of your helmet, but you are barely resisting the urge to fidget.

Watching as the Mandalorian in question pauses for a moment, as if he is surprised that his name was the one called before he steps forward towards the dias and where the Armorer stands beside you.

You swallow, watching his long legged gait as he stalks with determination towards you. It’s a swagger in his steps, even though he always denies it when called on it. Everyone can see it, it’s ingrained in him from his years as a bounty hunter. His accomplishments marked by his fame in the parsec, the Outer Rim whispers of fear and awe. He is the mandalorian.

Once he is in front of the Armorer, his armor nearly glittering in the flames of the forge, you hear her speak your name, the sound of it echoing through the great hall of Mandalore. “-has chosen you as her donor.”

The crowd, helmeted and unhelmeted alike, start to beat their fists over the heart of their chest plates. The loud sound reverberated around the room. “Haav! Haav! Haav! Haav!” They start to chant, the word is quiet at the beginning and then starting to lift above the pounding of their fists, the approval of the crowd apparent when no one challenges it. The entire gathering shouting for the two of you to make your way to the bed on the dias.

This is his chance to reject you. To melt back into the crowd and refuse the honor that you have ultimately bestowed upon him. You shiver slightly, although you seem to be the very picture of poise, statue still in your armor that will soon be stripped from your body.

Din tilts his head slightly, his visor fixed on you and you can feel his eyes watching, gauging. The orange tips of his gloves flex at his side slightly and he twists back to look at the clan of Mandalorians that have now made this once abandoned planet home again. Breathing new life into the Creed that has all but been wiped clean of the galaxy by the former Empire. Hoping to grow your ranks and raise warriors.

“I accept.” The clanging stops instantly, the shouting that echoes through the halls quiets. No one moves as Din steps forward again. “I accept.” He repeats, louder this time.

The Armorer nods, motioning behind her and a tray with a cup is brought forward. “To aid you on your mission.” She hums as she picks up the chalice.

You know that the helmet will stay on. It must, for his and your Creeds to remain intact. The ones who remove their helmets now understand why you keep your faces covered and no longer ridicule you for it. Both sects of Mandalore now coexist together for the good of your clans.

When it’s offered to you, you take the chalice, lifting the bottom of your helmet and taking a sip of the slightly bitter, sweet drink. The tang of it laying heavy on your tongue and immediately heating up your body as it slides down your throat.

Handing it to Din, you groan softly as he hooks his fingers under the edge of the helmet. Exposing just a bare inch of his throat, giving you a glimpse of his skin. The bulb of his Adam’s apple, the scattering of some facial hair, brown in color against the light tan of his flesh.

You will create a child with this man. Not knowing the color of his eyes or the curve of his nose. You will take his cock, his seed, inside you and pray to the Creed that it takes root. That he plants a warrior in your belly to grow and birth.

He swallows a mouthful of the liquid, groaning as he lowers the cup. Allowing the Armorer to take it from him. He reaches for the weapons belt at his hips and unclips it, handing his blaster to the Armorer to hold onto. Entrusting his weapons to her.

Heat flares in your core, feeling the slickness starting to gather between your thighs as the juice starts to work. Biting your lip under your helmet when your fingers start to strip off your gloves to reveal your hands.

Din hisses, his visor fixed on you, standing with his legs braced apart, you can see that his cock is starting to tent the fabric of his flight suit. Magically, assistance appears. Dozens of hands slowly and ceremonially strip the armor from his body and yours. The elders respectfully set aside the beskar, until the two of you are standing bare except for your helmets.

His cock is heavy, stiff as it juts up from his groin and you lick your lips in anticipation. You have taken cocks before, but you are eager to feel him inside you. Pressing your thighs together as he reaches for you.

Din cups your tits, fingers twitching and his moan is breathless under his helmet. Making you wonder when was the last time he touched someone without his gloves on. Seemingly overwhelmed as he rolls your nipples between his fingers and tugs on them to make you gasp his name quietly.

He chuckles, the low sound almost cut off from the modulator. “You chose me, cyar’ika.” He reminds you, teasing and toying with your breasts as the crowd watches silently. Witnessing your coupling. “These tits will nourish our ad. Make them strong and healthy.”

Din normally doesn’t speak much, but now he seems to say everything that rolls through his mind, the jorgon juice lowering his defenses, relaxing him even as it makes him harder than a rock.

“I did.” You nod, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his length and making him hiss your name, immediately thrusting his hips forward into your grip. “This cock will plant a warrior in my belly and I will grow round with a child.”

The voyeurism of the moment isn’t lost on you. The silence is poignant as heads turn, watching where you both fall to the bed. Witnessing the way that you straddle this mandalorian’s waist and start to sink down on his length, your cunt taking him with a low groan from both of you.

You need a moment, panting softly as he stretches you out, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip. His own sounds come through his modulator and you wish for a moment that you could see his face. To see if it is twisting in pleasure like your own is.

****

“Gon-gonna fill you up.” Din hisses, his hips rocking up with jerky thrusts, pushed deeper inside your tight walls. “Breed you.”

Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his chest where they are propped. “Yessss.” You whine. “Fill me up. Want it, want you to breed me. Breed me, Din”

“Warriors.” He grunts, bracing his feet on the bed to thrust up harder. His hands pulling your body down. “You’ll give birth to warriors. My warriors.”

Your walls clench down around him, cunt spasming at the gravelly proclamation. It’s what you desperately want. To raise warriors for the survival of your religion. Your head tilts back, chest pushed out to display your tits as you start to cum again. Crying out loudly again, feeling him starting to take over the pace as he rocks his hips up.

Din’s hands hold tight to your waist, his visor fixed on yours and you feel the way that his body is tensing, even as you shake on top of him. He’s about to cum once more. The bed beneath you is soaked in your juices and his cum, both of you sweaty and breathless. He lurches up, rolling you onto your back and he starts to hammer into you. Stealing your ability to cry out as you take his desperate thrusts.

Stiffening, Din roars out a shout, cock twitching against your cervix as he paints your womb with his seed. Cumming in wave after hot wave as he grinds deep, pushing deeper into your body as if to plant it directly into your egg.

This time, hours after the juice has been drunk and your bodies stripped of your armor, you no longer feel the need to continue. Din collapses on top of you, his helmet buried against your neck as he pants breathless. The slow, muted clap of gloved hands starts. One, two, three, on and on as the two of you lay together. If you were to look over his shoulder, you would see one hundred Mandalorians clapping, their applause starting to build in the chamber and ring out through the halls. Hopefully filling all of Mandalore with their hopeful cadence. Gifting you with their wishes that your union will result in warriors to wear beskar and walk The Way.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #absurdthirst kinktober #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #mando smut #mando fanfiction #mando imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine

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mochidoie · 2 years ago

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room for two.

kim doyoung x reader wc - 7k genre - pure fluff, sharing a bed cliché, mutuals to lovers, mutual pining, SO MUCH TENSION BUILD UP warnings - kiss scene, sensual tension, mention of alcohol

It's Johnny Suh's birthday trip and as your childhood best friend, Johnny books a hotel room with only one bed for you and Doyoung to share. The catch: you're completely head over heels for Kim Doyoung.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Hands on his hips, Doyoung quizzically stares at the full sized bed in the center of the hotel room. Seconds pass by, feeling like hours staring at this one bed situation and trying to find a solution for the next three nights.

“Maybe we can ask if they have a spare mattress we can rent? Hotels do that right…?” If only you could be confident in your suggestions, knowing damn well that it was highly unlikely and you’ve already heard an earful of excuses as to why you’re unable to change your room last minute.

At this point, you are mentally strangling Johnny for this slip up. This is the last time you trust this man to do anything for you. Not only did he pick the middle seat for you on the airplane when you specifically asked for the window, he has now ruined your good night’s sleep by "accidentally" booking you only one bed to share with Doyoung.

Doyoung shrugs at your proposal, “it’s been awhile since I traveled. I can go down and ask if it’ll be possible. Hang tight.” He is gone before you can protest, but perhaps it’s better that he tries to negotiate with the receptionists since they wouldn’t even let you finish a sentence earlier.

Grabbing your phone, you’re quick to type an angry text to Johnny Suh about how badly he screwed up the hotel reservation and how he is getting on your last standing nerve.

Good. Maybe finally you’ll get the balls to make a move.

Plus, it was cheaper. You told me to save you some money and that’s what I did.

Scoff leaving your lips as you read the two text bubbles over and over. You can’t believe your eyes at this little weasel and in fact, you straight up cannot believe he actually thought this was a good idea.

While this means you get to share a bed with your crush, you never intended for it to be premeditated. A love that happens naturally, that is all you could ask for. Absolutely in no way did you want your friends to meddle with your love life and definitely not to put you in such an awkward situation.

The door beeps open and Doyoung walks in looking as defeated as ever. Judging from his facial expression, it was a no. You two are stuck sleeping together on this tiny bed for this entire trip.

“I really tried.” Doyoung scratches the back of his neck, quite apologetic that he couldn’t find some resolve to an issue that he didn’t even cause.

You laugh, “it wasn’t even your problem to fix anyways.” A sigh of relief follows after and Doyoung flashes you his gummy smile at the idea that pops into his head.

“You know, I don’t really mind sleeping together.” He admits, bashfully and trying to gauge your reaction to the potential thought of sharing a bed. “But obviously, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I completely understand too.”

“I don’t know… I’m just a bit embarrassed.” Your cheeks grow hot at the possibility of waking up next to Doyoung, how nice the fragrant of hotel body wash would smell from his skin so close.

Not to mention, the proximity of your bodies being way closer than they’ve ever been before. Just no respectable distance between the two of you underneath the sheets and completely vulnerable in your sleep.

“Of what?” The shift of the bed has you dipping toward him. “Do you snore?”

You don’t answer.

“I mean- like even if you did, it’s not a big deal and you don’t need to be embarrassed about it.” Doyoung frantically tries to make you feel better, seeing that your expressionless face leans closer to sadness rather than neutral. You two are definitely not on the level of friendship to be playful with each other yet.

So you lie just to see what he says. “I snore, I kick. I even steal blankets, Doyoung! And I think you’ll be too nice to wake me up about it or to take them off of me.”

Doyoung practically chokes on his spit at the last part of your sentence. “No, you’re right. I would be too nice to do any of that.” He seriously ponders for a second, his eyes darting around at the ground to maintain his focus on weighing the pros and cons. He really didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“If it happens, it happens. I won’t mind either way now that I have a heads up.” He gets up to start unpacking his suitcase. “Like I said, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Fair warning, don’t be upset at me in the morning if you don’t get a good night’s rest. You can blame Johnny for that.” Unpacking the soft dress from your luggage, you smooth out its crinkles and hang it up in the tiny closet next to Doyoung’s jacket.

Doyoung laughs, he has actually been laughing the whole time you’ve spent with each other. It’s as if you’re some comedian and it has you wondering if you’re actually even that hilarious. “I’m pretty happy rooming with you. I’d rather be here than third wheeling with a couple still in their honeymoon phase.”

The magnitude of his words has a buzz running throughout your veins, hairs to stand up on your arms and a slight churning in your stomach. Mindlessly folding out his clothes, Doyoung has no actual clue how he is affecting you. He’s just oblivious to it all.

“Good thing I didn’t bail like everyone else.” The nervous chuckle that escapes your lips is unintentional, probably an awkward reflex to deflect how you’re dying at being in his presence alone.

Johnny’s birthday trip had been a last minute thing and only a select few were able to make it, some bailing at the very last day before. It was a weird time of the year, especially with the New Year starting not too long ago. However, this season allows for cheaper flights and accommodation since it was after the holidays.

It was initially supposed to be a group of Johnny’s close friends — you, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Yuta — in addition, his girlfriend. How the room arrangements were supposed to be was that you and his girlfriend would share an all girls room, while the guys shared one room.

That outcome could still technically be possible, but Johnny insisted on switching rooms so he can stay with his girlfriend after the others dropped and how he has already shared the experience of being roommates with Doyoung. He also knew how big of a crush you had for Doyoung, so he thought it would be more fitting to pair the lovers together.

Although, Doyoung didn’t like you back nor does he know you do. The severity of your crush is mild, just that Doyoung is the most attractive man ever with poise and an aura that oozes so sexily from him. This is the first chivalrous man in your life, meeting him through Johnny some years ago.

You and Johnny are family friends, your moms being the closest women duo on this Earth. When they’re together, they’re unstoppable. In return, the two of you are practically siblings and have spent every celebration, every holiday, every family event, every funeral together.

Doyoung is Johnny’s roommate from college, these two have been lifelong friends since then. Doyoung had actually moved to your hometown after college, finding an amazing job opportunity at the same company as Johnny. He started coming around a lot more to social events or whenever you saw Johnny. Since the first moment he offered you a ride home, you’ve been stuck on this infatuation for this incredibly charming and sweet man.

Though, you two never got extremely close despite your individual connections to Johnny. It has always felt like Doyoung is Johnny’s friend and vice versa. You also really had no reason to see Doyoung without Johnny, so there had always been a distance. You two spoke when in a group setting, just to make small talk about work, general life updates, or anything about Johnny.

On a very drunk night long ago, you and Johnny had been very well over your drinking limit and had been talking about nonsense between the two of you. Just old friends catching up, but the itch of asking about Doyoung had been bothering you all night.

“Out of curiosity, is Doyoung single?” Oh god, the alcohol has started speaking for you. Johnny raises a skeptical brow and beckons his beer bottle at you before taking a swig.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in digital marketing Kim Doyoung, cubicle 4E80.”

The boldness overtakes you, it’s not like you lose anything asking a simple question to satisfy your curiosity. “What if I am?”

Johnny laughs, rather than lightheartedly, it is a robust laugh that feels like he’s mocking you and that your statement is unbelievably ridiculous. “He’s single, painfully single too.”

There is a brief pause as your drunken state processes the loud beating of your heart in your ears. Hope settles in, a big dumb grin plasters on your warm face.

“It’s interesting. He had asked about you too.” Johnny sits back and sinks into the couch. “He asked if you had a romantic partner.”

“Me?” You are truly in disbelief that he would ever even give you a second thought.

“Yeah, you dummy. I think he meant it as you should get into a relationship though, not asking if you were single because he is interested in you.” Your heart soars, quickly depleting after hearing Johnny’s explanation. So much for hope or a chance.

“I’m not fully understanding.”

“Doyoung is weird sometimes with his thoughts. I think he was trying to say that you seem lonely? Oh, and that you seem like you have a lot of love to give.” Johnny rubs his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the alcohol induced drowsiness coming on. “Such an observant man.”

Since that night, you never tried any advancements toward him. Partly because you are afraid of him catching onto something and because it was enough for you to realize he probably isn’t interested in you romantically.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering or from your smile growing whenever Doyoung says something nice. He is a naturally friendly and genuine person, super considerate of others and very kind. Johnny says that he has never met another man with such good intentions and a big heart, while still being snarky and intelligent.

“Heading to the pool?” Doyoung asks, a fist holding his swim shorts and a plain shirt. The warm weather outside is so inviting, knowing you’re probably going to get sunburnt at the end of it but it being a year’s worth of Vitamin D. Johnny definitely knows how to travel.

“Yeah, I can’t swim so I’ll just sit by the edge and dip my feet in.” You’re rummaging through your suitcase for your bikini cover-up until your hand hits the bottom of the barrel.

Panic creeps up your neck as you’re tossing all of your clothes out of your luggage now, picking through shirts, dresses, underwear and pants to find the one item you set a reminder to pack.

It’s not there. “Everything okay?” The genuinity in Doyoung’s voice makes you feel more embarrassed for some reason. Tossing all your belongings back into your suitcase, you throw your hands up in the air out of frustration.

“I can’t find my swimsuit cover up. I guess this is what happens when you dismiss a reminder before fulfilling it.” Slightly annoyed, you’re holding the two-piece in your palms and wondering if it is worth the hassle and bashfulness to wear it. You brought it with the intent of looking hot and sexy for the trip, while also keeping your decency by having a cover up to …. well, cover up.

You excuse yourself and clench the bikini in your hand, walking into the bathroom. Fuck it, you brought it. You’re going to wear it. If it gets too much, you’ll just wrap a towel around or buy a new cover up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal and you already know that Johnny is going to give you shit for not joining them at the pool.

You’ll suck it up. Looking in the mirror, the bottoms barely cover your ass cheeks. Barely is an overstatement, the fabric is so far up your crack that it gives you a wedgie every time you move. Nonetheless, the baby pink is such a sweet color that you’re not minding the exposure too much.

Now, the top situation is a whole mess. The strings wrap around your midsection, but your arms are too short to give yourself a secure knot. After multiple attempts at stretching and pulling, twisting your arms in funky positions, you give up and think it’s best to call in help.

Doyoung. Fuck. You take a few deep breaths and examine yourself in the mirror again, reminding yourself of every positive affirmation and Doyoung is too nice to say anything. Calming your nerves, you gently push open the door.

“Doyoung, could you do me a huge favor and tie my bikini top for me? I genuinely don’t think it’s tight enough when I do it.” You peek your head out and his footsteps come from around the corner, happy to help!

Walking in, Doyoung looks taken aback by your choice of attire. You’re examining his reaction through the mirror as he stops at the door frame, his eyes widen and drag down your body twice. He is most definitely checking you out.

He clears his throat when he meets your eyes. “Did you want me to double knot it?” He asks, softly and shyly. Stepping behind you, his hot hands guide your hair to the side of your neck to expose your back. Your heart is in your throat when Doyoung takes the string from your hands and pulls it toward him, a bit too roughly.

You lose your footing and jolt back into him, your shoulder hitting his chest. “Shit, sorry.” His breathy apology in your ear sends chills up your spine and a slight rush down below.

The tension in the air is so thick – you’re both suffocating in it. Staring at his profile in the reflection, Doyoung’s expression is none of what you’ve seen before. It’s lustful, almost, if you’re not interpreting it incorrectly. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and he is trying to look everywhere but your ass and your breast from an aerial view.

“It’s okay.” You laugh it off, but he is unwavering. “You’re stronger than you look, Doyoung.”

Your light teasing breaks the serious concentration on his face and his shy gummy smile returns, “it’s from all the times Johnny dragged me to gym with him.”

He ties the knot perfectly, making sure it’s one of those pretty bows that top off a gift box. He’s quite happy with himself that he forgets your bare ass is inches away from his clothed dick.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “pink is a pretty color on you.” His eyes catch yours in the reflection of the mirror and a light blush dusts his cheeks, a kind half grin on his lips.

Your heart is soaring, once again. “It’s nice on you too.” Smiling back, there is a split second that you can actually believe that Doyoung could’ve felt some connection between the two of you. “Thank you for such an impressive bow.”

His demeanor shifts back to friendly, less serious and intense. “Yeah, no problem! If you’re still looking for a coverup, I have something you can borrow.”

Walking out of the stuffy bathroom, Doyoung hums and pulls out a white button up from his bag. It’s light and flowy, just the perfect thing to wear out on a beautiful day. He helps you slip on the sleeves and it covers your backside very well. It’s even better than the initial cover up you had. Then it hits you, you’re wearing his clothes. His scent falls on your body fruitfully and Doyoung doesn’t even flinch at the sight of you in his shirt.

Nonetheless, there is no denying that his stares seem to linger longer than they usually do.

Despite multiple occasions of waiters and waitresses mistaking you and Doyoung as a couple, the first day of the trip was jam packed with good fun and no complaints. Johnny and his girlfriend love showing PDA, but keep it modest for those around. Doyoung enjoys getting his picture taken at every tourist spot, some lowkey alleyways or artsy areas that catch his eye. You just like being around your friends, in a new environment and living in the moment with them all.

The night had fallen upon you so quickly, the expression time flies when you’re having fun held true for this day. Johnny had mentioned prior that he wanted to have a romantic candlelit dinner with his girlfriend for one of the nights you were on this trip.

It didn’t hit you that he was actually being serious about that plan until you’re back in your hotel room with Doyoung, looking for a place to have dinner on your own.

“I didn’t know how much of a romantic Johnny is.” You’re blowing raspberries into the air as you scroll mindlessly on the internet for a good place to eat in this foreign area. Doyoung takes a seat on the chair at the desk, doing exactly the same as you.

“It takes the right person to get it out of him.” Doyoung mumbles, ruffling his hair out of his face cutely. The strands of his bangs disheveled and sticking up. “But he’ll do anything for the person he really likes.”

“I guess I’ve never seen that side of him.” You shrug, attention draining from the overwhelming selection of food choices in the area.

Doyoung notices your mind wandering and hears the tiny grumble of your stomach from hunger. “How about we go here? Looks like they have happy hour and a very nice aesthetic.”

He kneels down at the bed level to show you photos of the restaurant. It’s a large outside patio with decorative ambient string lights, vines of greenery hanging from the ceiling and the rustic wooden walls within the indoor portion of the restaurant.

Overall vibe of the place feels elevated, yet still trendy and modern. The food seems to be a fusion of Korean and Chinese cuisines and the prices look more than desirable.

“Half off main entree items and bottomless cocktails during happy hour?!” Sitting up, you’re grabbing Doyoung’s phone out of his hand to get a closer read on the menu. You’re in disbelief at such a good deal. “Let’s go!” You cheer, jumping up on your feet to pick an outfit for the night.

“I knew the bottomless cocktails will get you. You understand me, y/n.” Doyoung is as overjoyed as you, and you’re both happily smiling at each other without a thought about how good you make each other feel. Grabbing your flowy white romper, you change quickly in the room as Doyoung fixes up in the bathroom.

There is elegance in the white silk, yet it doesn’t make you look too overdressed or too casual. Leaning forward to the vanity, you’re clipping on some shiny earrings and the door opens behind you.

Doyoung steps out in that loose white button up you borrowed earlier today, three buttons unbuttoned from the neck to expose some of his toned chest, half tucked into his neat slacks. His hair is combed and styled back, getting a clear view of his sharp features and maturity. He looks so good, you almost start drooling.

“Oh, your zipper isn’t zipped all the way.” Doyoung breaks you out of your gawking. Without any hesitation, he walks up behind you and helps you with your zipper. This moment mirrors earlier events from this morning.

He chuckles, mostly to himself as he drags the zipper up and his eyes follow the trail of your spine to your eyes in the reflection. “How do you ever get yourself dressed when you need help getting dressed so often?”

“It’s a bit of a struggle, but I manage.” Straightening up your posture, Doyoung’s hand gently caresses your forearm. “But you definitely have made it easier for me today.” You’re still in shock as you watch Doyoung clip your bracelet around your wrist, dropping your arm back by your side ever so gently.

“I’m more than happy to be of assistance.” He clicks his tongue and this fleeting feeling of sensual tension finds itself lost again. Nonetheless, this moment is going to play like a loop of reruns in your mind the whole night.

Three and a half cocktails in, you’re both indulging in a conversation that makes no sense to either one of you but it’s a harmonious time. Your heart is pounding in your ears from the alcohol running circles in your bloodstream, but the moderately loud ambiance of the restaurant creates a good buzz. Doyoung is a cute shade of red before you, every sip making him dangerously close to losing his senses.

“I have to say, this has been the most fun I’ve had in awhile.” The bottom of his glass hits the table and finds its way perfectly in the right spot everytime. The look of content fills his red cheeks and you’re seriously so intoxicated that your mouth has a mind of its own.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means, but the alcohol is asking for more context and reassurance. Has it been fun because of the copious amounts of drinks you two have had after only sharing an appetizer? Or is it genuinely because of you?

“You’re so easy to talk to. I feel like I can talk to you for hours.” His gummy smile twinkles in the dim atmosphere, all because the thought of talking to you for hours makes him full of glee and happiness. He isn’t one to hold back a genuine compliment, he wants you to know how he feels about you as a person. Intimacy didn’t exist between the two of you before tonight, but that changes with every exchange of glances and sweet words.

The call of his name gets his attention, eyebrows raised and eyes as alert as they can be, “you’re one of the only people in this world that I could listen to for hours.” There is no stopping you at this point. Another compliment and you’re bound to confess a part of your heart tonight to him.

Doyoung nods, understanding every bit of where you’re coming from. He gets you like how you get him. “There has been a question that’s been on my mind since I met you.”

Your breath hitches at the actuality that he thought enough about you to have such curiosity. You lived in his brain when you truly believed he would never give you a second look. “Why have you and Johnny never dated?”

The laugh that creeps up your throat almost slips out from hearing the question, but Doyoung is more than serious with this revealed secret question he had been holding onto for so long. Clearing your throat, your finger lightly traces the rim of your glass as you really think hard about every reason you are not attracted to Johnny romantically.

“I’ve known him practically since birth, so he has always been a good brother to me.” It really is that simple, shrugging to show that it's nothing too deep. “While we meet people in a certain moment of their lives, that version of them freezes as the person you will always know them to be to you.”

Doyoung watches your finger dance around. “To me, Johnny will always be a booger-eating cry baby. The love I have for him is purely familial, as if he was the reason for every scraped elbow growing up or for my fear of abandonment when he left me in the grocery store aisles.”

He hums lovingly at your explanation. “I’m guessing you get that question pretty often.”

“Besides his current girlfriend, you’re the only other person who has asked.” Your chuckle makes Doyoung slightly embarrassed, can he be that obvious? It’s fine, you both won’t remember this night fully.

“A follow up question then,” Doyoung leans forward with his elbows digging into the white table cloth, “who am I to you?”

Your eyes widen, those words are enough to knock some sense back into you. Your heart continues to pound in your ears, but also drumming against your chest quickly with every possible way you could answer him.

His eyes stare down at you like prey, just waiting patiently and silently for you to speak. Doyoung’s demeanor may seem confident on the outside, but he is dying to know on the inside. “You’re Johnny’s best friend.”

He lets the disappointment subside, the whiplash in your face is enough indication that you weren’t prepared for such a question. Doyoung relaxes back in his chair, dropping his gaze and nodding at your simple answer. It doesn’t satisfy him, but he can’t be someone to ask for much in this situation.

“Who am I to you?”

Doyoung rolls his lips, debating if his answer will only produce fruitful reactions or you would be turned off. The alcohol has too much control over his choice of words, truthfully, the haziness surrounds his vision. “You’re y/n, Johnny’s cute friend who I can’t seem to get out of my mind.”

Something about Doyoung paying for dinner and his chivalrousness throughout the night oozes a romantic side of him you’re not used to. It felt as if you and Doyoung went on a real date together, even though it was curated off of unforeseen circumstances. Romance isn’t dead, as some may oppose. You could hope that Doyoung agreed.

“Doyoung, the shower is free for you now.” A towel wraps your wet hair up into a cone on your head, earning a small smile from Doyoung. He gathers his things and makes his way into the already steaming bathroom, your essence filling the tiny room.

You’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone, hearing the shower turn on and suddenly turn off. Then it hits you, you have walked out empty handed and your discarded clothes are still hanging on the glass door. You’re both quick at the door, but Doyoung beats you to open it from the other side.

His head pops out, the door slightly ajar. He is naked from the top down to the towel around his waist. Droplets dribble down his tone chest and stomach and your throat goes dry from the sight of him. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Doyoung says gently, holding out your dirty clothes in an orderly pile and your underwear visibly in the mix.

“Thank you.” Finding your words, you quickly take your belongings.

“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose, y/n.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, a playful eyebrow raise and a corner of his lip turning upward into a smirk.

“No! I swear, you just make me so comfortable.. I’m treating this as if it’s my own space.” You’re coming to your senses, shutting the door on him so he couldn’t respond to such a ridiculous excuse. Your back hits the bathroom door, sliding down and huddling your laundry.

“I feel comfortable around you too.” You hear Doyoung say through the door. Though you couldn’t see him, a smile lies on his lips as he continues his nightly routine.

Some time passes, Doyoung enters the sheets before you and the anxiousness settles in your system when you know you have to eventually join him. He feels the shift in atmosphere, peering over at your hunched figure at the end of the bed.

“I can still sleep on the floor.” Pushing the blankets off of his body, he starts to get up. You’re fast to push his chest down, landing softly over him. You’re both unmoving in this position, out of pure shock of the sudden proximity.

Your eyes meet briefly, but you look away from his wide bunny eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t want you on the floor.”

His finger turns your chin to face him. The annoying pounding of your heart is loud in your eyes, aching from his hot touch and how you could seriously drown in his beautiful gaze. You’re wondering if he could hear it.

“Then, where do you want me?” Doyoung swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of your lips before him and he is three seconds from diving into you. Completely stunned, obviously, taken aback by his bold question and the tension in the room seems to find its way back.

You want him in your arms. You want him suffocating you with his warm embrace. You want him where you are. Will he allow that? “The bed is fine.” The firmness in your voice assures Doyoung that you don’t feel unwavering. He would hate for you to feel the slightest uneasy. With a roll off of him, you’re planted on your back on the other side of the bed. Staring at the ceiling, you’re both processing the elephant that has overstayed its visit this entire day.

He has to have felt something. There is no way he could be that oblivious, you know he isn’t.

Pulling the sheets over your body, your back is facing Doyoung as he tries to find a good position to doze off in. Heat radiates off of your bodies underneath the blankets and you’re partly grateful to be sharing the bed with such a gorgeous man. Peering over your shoulder, Doyoung swipes on his phone aimlessly looking through the photos he took today.

He feels your curious eyes on him, “want to help me choose which ones I should keep?” Doyoung scoots a bit closer toward the middle of the bed, closing the distance between the two of you slowly.

As this man speedily scrolls through photo after photo, you’re too much in awe at how a simple photo could capture how handsome he is. You’re trying to be helpful, without saying much, but still trying. He deletes a random one at his distaste in a blink that you could barely keep up.

“Do, you look great in all of these.” You sigh, moving even closer to him as his shoulder hits your arm. You’re swiping a few photos back to one that caught your eye – gummy smile, hand covering his eyes, low light underneath the stars, one hand in his pants pocket. He is the perfect wallpaper material. “I like this one the best.”

“You can’t see my face in that one.” He laughs, “what do you like about it?”

“You look good.” It’s all you could say, anything more will tip the boat.

He instantly favorites it, moving on before he can dig anymore about your vague explanations. Swipe after swipe, a new angle, a new pose, a new facial expression but all in the same area. You’re starting to get sleepy at the endless miniscule details, but your eyes shoot open when he swipes upon a photo of you and then, quickly dismissing it as if you weren’t supposed to see.

“Was that me?” You ask, practically grabbing his phone. Doyoung sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, letting you scroll through his phone to find more pretty candids he took of you without you knowing. Progressively, you begin to see yourself in his perspective or maybe, he really is just that great at taking photos.

Nonetheless, you’ve never seen yourself like this. Hair in action, caught in the sweep of the wind. Your smile is as bright as the moon, very natural and genuine happiness painting your face at something stupid that Johnny probably said. There you are among your own laughter and excitement, Doyoung captured such beautiful parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

Doyoung breaks the silence between the both of you, slowly reading your facial reactions at the pictures. He slowly inches closer, his head slightly above your shoulder.

“I can’t help, but notice how happy you look when you laugh. Your smile is contagious.” He whispers, swiping a few more photos to land on one that you wouldn’t have even recognized was yourself.

Your right hand brushes your hair out of your face and you’re smiling from ear to ear. It had to be a moment at dinner with him. Doyoung knew the reason behind that gorgeous smile was him. “So pretty.” His voice leaves a chill down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your arms.

He perks up at the sound of his name, “I’m genuinely confused.” You say, setting his phone down and looking at him with eyebrows furrowed together. “I know you’re a nice person so it could be just your mannerisms or the intimacy of sharing a bed, but I don’t want to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Oh,” Doyoung shifts away from you, the bed dipping at the movement as he scoots back over to his side of the bed. “I’m sorry if I came off as overbearing.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” You’re fighting with yourself, trying to decide if you should just confess. What is the worst that could happen? You’re stuck together in the same room for two more nights and he will know that you’re insanely attracted to him.

But there feels like a chance. You could be incredibly delusional and misreading everything. You sigh, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. Nonetheless, Doyoung can see how heavy your heart seems.

“Is there something I did?”

“No, forget it.” You’re pulling the blankets back over your body again, turning off the lamp on your side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Doyoung follows your lead, doing the same and the room falling into complete darkness. Your shaky breaths being the only audible noise in the silent space.

There is so much adrenaline in your throat, coursing through your veins at how close you are to just telling him.

“Just know that you can tell me anything. I know we’re not the closest of friends, but I feel like that’s sometimes better.” Doyoung turns to face you and you’re staring at him in the low light, making out the most gentle and comforting smile that puts your heart at ease.

“Doyoung, I like you and it’s not just because you’re a nice person, I have romantic feelings for you. I hope you can understand.” You’re all choked up that it makes Doyoung’s heart ache. Confessions are way harder than they need to be, but you did it. That's all that matters.

You didn’t need reciprocal feelings from him, you just needed him to be okay with it. He is silent for a while, his gaze dropping and wandering the sheets. He, too, is conflicted about how he should proceed.

Laying on your side, you face him fully. Doyoung peers up at the shift and his eyes are intensely gazing at you. Your heart is back thumping at your chest and drumming in your ears.

Before you know it, Doyoung is leaning forward and his lips land on yours softly. Your eyes remain open and in shock, but you kiss him back fruitfully. This long awaited kiss has finally fallen upon you, something you’ve wondered days on end how his lips taste.

Doyoung kisses your lips tenderly, almost as if he has waited for this moment too. Gliding effortlessly along yours and a sweet heat that lingers deliciously, he kisses like a shy romantic. You’re both too hesitant to touch one another, afraid of asking for too much. Your arms are stuck to your chest, hands in fists and tensions rising.

His knuckle lightly brushes your cheek, and as you close your eyes and settle into the kiss, you find yourself deepening it and free falling right into him. Desperation? It is the right amount to indicate how much you wanted it, how much you have craved him.

You are kissing Kim Doyoung. That thought alone could leave you grinning ear to ear for days. He doesn’t even know how much it affects you.

When you both pull away, Doyoung’s lips are pretty and plump. It compels you to give him a last quick peck and he chuckles cutely. His eyelids fall over his eyes ever so slowly, his long eyelashes dancing on his cheekbones and he looks surreal.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you this entire day.” Your heart would stop right there. His raspy confession has your whole face turning hot, “ever since I saw you in your pink swimsuit. You don’t know what you do to me.” He buries his shyness into his pillow. Seeing Doyoung like this is new, it’s so adorable that you don’t know how to react besides giggling at how shy he is. He usually holds himself up pretty well, getting embarrassed here and there by Johnny’s silly actions or boldness. Nonetheless, here he is, barely able to look you in the eyes and a pillow shielding his pretty face.

“Have you always felt this way?” Your fingers touch your lips, still in disbelief at the scandalous kiss you two just shared and coming to the realization that Doyoung could have felt this way this whole time.

“Since the moment I met you, you have always been endearing to me. But since you are practically Johnny’s non-biological sister, you felt out of reach.” Doyoung sighs, “I didn’t want to cross any boundaries or make it seem like I was some creep trying to hit on you through Johnny. I respect you a lot, y/n, and Johnny does too.”

His voice grows soft and his words are still so kind. Doyoung is effortlessly sweet and chivalrous. At times, you question how he and Johnny managed to be the best of friends. Doyoung is so outwardly soft and feminine, emotionally attuned and safe. Johnny is all those things as well, but not as clear as Doyoung.

Growing up, Johnny always felt like he needed someone like Doyoung to reassure him that boys can cry too. Although you never imagined that you would stumble upon a dream man like Doyoung, he lays next to you in bed with endless thoughts of you running at full speed in his head.

“I’m speechless.”

“I can tell.” Doyoung smiles, “I’ve kept my distance enough to not give you any impression of interest.” He coyly puts his arms behind his back and peers over at how stunned you look blinking back at him. “Let’s sleep, I want you to rest up for the day tomorrow.”

“I feel like this is going to keep me awake.” You slide down to lay firmly on your side to face him.

“Will sleeping in my arms help?” Doyoung extends his arm out for you to snuggle up next to him. You’re practically losing your mind at how forward he is, it’s as if five minutes early he wasn’t all shy about confessing to you. “Sorry, too much.”

Nonetheless, you dive right into him like it's all you’ve ever known. Your face hits his chest and the scent of his laundry detergent immediately hits your nose. His warm arm wraps around your upper back as he presses you closer. Planting a delicate kiss on your forehead, Doyoung rubs soothing circles on your back to help you sleep.

So if this was a dream, you hope to never wake from it.

The stuffy morning has you and Doyoung tiptoeing around one another. When you had woken up, Doyoung was already in the bathroom to freshen up and prepare for the day. You both had exchanged small good mornings before you had also disappeared into the bathroom. Now, you two silently get ready in your own corners of the room and nothing but the sound of clattering fills the air.

Did he have a sudden change in heart? You grow more confused with this man as it turns from day to night. Doyoung looks over his shoulder at you, noticing the eerie silence in the room.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, clearing his throat awkwardly. Good thing you two didn’t fuck or anything, you feel like that would make this moment even more awkward than it already is.

“Fine. You?”

Doyoung laughs, mostly to himself, as he remembers the position you two woke up in. “Seems like someone couldn’t let go of me last night, so I would say it was pretty good.”

Your embarrassment doesn’t shy away from being evident. Slowly, you turn to face him. Doyoung leans against the wall a relaxed fit, hair nicely falling above his eyebrows and a grin so taunting, you wouldn’t have believed it was his. He notices your lip quiver before you begin to speak and he reassures you once more.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” Doyoung makes his way toward you, his delicate hands holding your forearms quite lovingly and his kind smile tries to make you feel better. You both gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re all you’ve ever known in life.

This is so romantic. You’ve forgotten that you two aren’t dating.

“Would it be too much of an ask for us to start seeing each other?” He shakes his head without hesitation. Kissing your forehead, he can literally see how beautifully you admire him.

“I want to be with you.” He draws you in tighter. “I want to be yours.” Doyoung whispers. A chill runs down your spine. “However, you have to let me take you out on a proper date before we settle things. One where I ask you out, pick you up and bring you your favorite flowers.”

“I’d really love that.” It is no joke how incredibly immersed in this man you are. Never in your dreams would you think that a moment like this would exist between the two of you.

All it took was sharing a bed. If only Johnny had thought of that sooner.

#neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct 127 #nct doyoung #nct fluff #kim doyoung #kim doyoung scenario #nct scenario #nct x reader #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader

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willyoubemycherryy · 8 months ago

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𝑴𝒂𝒉 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒆’𝒔 (¯ ³¯)♡ @missusnora @eleanorbaybars @eymie @taylormarieee @b1mb0slvt

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦♡︎

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 “𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞” 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐯𝐲𝐲𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲🤭, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐦-, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐘 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )❤︎︎

“𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦...”

“Don’t be mad.”

Deciding to come clean now with your heart in your ass because he’d find out sooner than later and you knew he’d punish you regardless.

Raising an eyebrow Theseus straightens behind his desk. He’s beginning to realize the nervous look on your face was not because something he’s done, but something you’ve done. “Pet,” he says, the mellow timbre of his deep voice deepening. Watching intensely as it makes you shiver. “What did you do?”

You swallow. “When you were gone over the weekend, I—I couldn’t help it.” Your embarrassment makes you so hot that you flush, a clear indicator that you’re ashamed of what you’re about to admit. “I touched myself. I made myself come.”

Theseus visibly frowns. His dick is throbbing at the thought of you being so desperate that you had to get yourself off without him, even though his rules explicitly forbid it. Mentally praying that he’d go easy on you because it really wasn’t your fault. Or maybe it was and you subconsciously did it on purpose because God did Theseus look good when he was angry.

“Sir, I-”

“Take your clothes off,” he says flippantly.

“Mr Scamander?” You ask dumbly, not entirely sure you heard him correctly as adrenaline combined with arousal lights through your body.

“Take. Them. Off. Disobeying me any more will only worsen your punishment. Is that what you want?” he growls. Your eyes meet his stormy blue ones and you shake your head and start to undress, doing your best to be good for him while his gaze burns into you. Theseus watches from his desk, his cock already pressing hard against his fly but making sure to keep his face as expressionless as possible.

The truth is, he doesn’t really care that much that you touched yourself without his permission. He’s more annoyed about the fact that you told him, and now he has to punish you instead of rewarding you. And it’s not that he doesn’t like punishing you either, because he really, really does. But he’s desperate to taste you come.

The last of your clothes fall to the floor, and you’re naked before him, somehow looking both innocent and tempting.

“Now,” Theseus drawls. “Your punishment.”

Fuck. You’re already tingling and he hasn’t even touched you.

“Are you going to spank me this time, Mr Scamander?” You whisper softly, looking up at him through your lashes, trying not to look too eager.

Theseus considers. “Yes, I think that’ll do quite nicely. Come here, pet. Sit facing me.” Beckoning you with a crook of his index finger and the lazy movement is so effortlessly sexy that you fight the urge to outright beg for him.

Rounding the desk, you sit completely nude on the edge, wearing an expression of confusion. How could he possibly spank you like this? Theseus moves his chair closer to you.

“Feet up,” he says, patting the arms of the chair with his hands. You obey, spreading your legs apart, one foot on either side of him, your twitching cunt wet and open in front of him. Humming lowly, Theseus drags his gaze from your glistening cunt to your hued face.

“You’ve made a mess haven’t you, darling,” he admonishes, tutting lowly at you. “Are you going to enjoy your punishment?”

“No, Sir,” you mutter weakly. It’s a bold faced lie and he knows it.

“I think you will. Now, why don’t you remind me why you’re being punished?” He isn’t raising his voice and he doesn’t sound angry but it’s the condescension in his tone makes you whine.

“Because I disobeyed you.”

“You disobeyed me,” Theseus agrees. “I told you not to touch yourself, but you just couldn’t help yourself.”

“Please Sir, it wasn’t my fault. I was so horny, and then you said I could before you left but I never got to, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My pussy ached so bad. I had to.”

“You know why that is pet?”

“No sir…”

“Because you’re a slut. A naughty little thing. Aren’t you?” He whispers, full pink lips against yours as your mouth drops open in a shameless moan.

“Yes, Mr Scamander. I’m a slut. I need to be punished.”

“That’s right,” He says. Dropping his eyes back to your pussy. It takes all his self-control not to lean forward and put his mouth on you. Instead he places his hand flat against your mound. Hypersensitive to his touch, you bite your lip.

“You’re going to spank my….?” You trail off, too dazed by the idea to even get the rest out.

Huffing out a chuckle through his nose, Theseus nods. He can feel your slick lips beneath his hand. “Just five,” he murmurs. “For your first real offense.”

“Okay,” you breathe out.

Theseus pulls his hand away and lets it hover between your legs. You tense in excitement, waiting for the blow but still unprepared when Theseus brings his hand down, hard. The sound of the slap, and your answering moan, echo through the room.

“One,” Theseus says. He’ll do the counting for you this time. He plants another stinging slap between your legs, messy strings from your drooling cunt stick to his hand and you gasp sharply, as if trying to hide how much you’re enjoying it. On the third slap you moan again, head rolling back. Nothing could have grounded you for how good getting your pussy spanked would feel. The quick heavy pressure on your clit, the burn that came with and made your leaking hole ache in the best ways. Looking down he sees your skin is now red where his hand falls, pussy lips full and swollen, juices leaking out. You practically squeal on the fourth slap, and Theseus is almost worried someone might hear. He delivers the last slap and you whine, jerking your hips up. Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you try to compose yourself. Fingers grip the edge of the desk tightly, knuckles straining.

“How does it feel?” Theseus asks, faux concern in his voice.

“It stings,” you whine. Pretty doe eyes watering and he swallows.

“Of course it does,” he says licking his lips. Staring at your enflamed pussy, he can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Let me kiss it better.”

He coos before he’s leaning in, pressing his plump lips softly against the red skin above your slit. He scoots his chair further forward and lifts your legs over his shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses down your lips until he reaches your ass. He slips his tongue into your slit, groaning as your juices coat his tastebuds. The heady scent and taste of her is intoxicating. He moans against a mouthful your pussy and you cry out in return, dizzy and alight with pleasure as he sucks away hungrily at you. The debauched sounds coming from you spurring him on as he licks into you, teasing your entrance. He runs his tongue along your messy hole slowly. The pure desperation to cum has you whining as he circles your clit with his tongue.

“Mr Scamander,” you pant in ecstasy.

Theseus lifts his head for a moment, meeting her eyes. “Theseus,” he tells you. “Call me Theseus.”

“Okay,” you nod. “These— ah,” you’re cut off by your own moan as he sucks on your clit before he backs off a little, flicking the nub in firm lashes, then dragging his tongue back down your slit to your entrance. He kisses you, then drives his tongue in as deep as he can go. The water that was budding in your eyes spill over your hot cheeks as Theseus eats you alive, gasping desperately as you start to hump into his face.

He can feel your thighs start trembling, the sounds you’re making are strained and pathetic, and he realises your trying to hold off your orgasm. Trying to be a good girl for him. The thought sends blood rushing straight to his groin, and his already hard cock becomes even more painful. His balls feeling heavier by the second.

Theseus moves his mouth to your clit again, sucking viciously while your breathing turns into bleating wails uncontrollably. He pops off your soaked cunt to smile indulgently at you. “You can come whenever you want, sweetness,” he says indulgently and you almost fall apart in relief. It only takes another couple seconds of him tonguing your walls and slurping your abused clit for you to come apart. Letting out a wrecked moan, you’re sobbing as your hips grind against his face, liquid squirting out of your pussy and onto his tongue. You’re not even sure your still breathing as the tidal wave of searing pleasure slams over you, mind going completely blank with the intensity of your orgasm.

Fuck. Fuck. You taste better than he even imagined and he adores the way you sound when you cum.

He wants you to taste yourself too, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, he sits up, cum on his tongue, and drags your mouth to his, shoving his tongue in deep, before your orgasm has even subsided. Dazedly you kiss him back, hungry for him.

“Good girl,” he groans into your mouth. Fitting his hand around your throat, making your nerves scatter. “Now thank me. Thank me for correcting your behavior.”

Your teary eyes widen while your heartbeat sinks to your cunt, pulsing so violently that it’s almost painful as your bite your lip and try not go completely dumb for him.

“T-thank you for correcting my behavior..” you warble out brokenly. Theseus smiles gently at you before pressing a firm kiss to your lips.

“You are very welcome, pet.”

OooflordthismanhasmeBACKinhissexyclutchesaaaaaaaaghgggghhhhhhhh

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

#callum turner #theseus scamander #callum turner x reader #theseus scamander x reader #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts #callum turner smut #masters of the air #mota #x reader #smut #crimes of grindelwald #Theseus Scamander smut

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myslutwritings · 1 year ago

Note

Hello? Ah, I think I put my requests in the wrong area, I got confused and put them in 'Submit A Post' instead! My apologise, Ahem! I shall repeat one of my requsts here. If it's not much of a bother....So, my first request was how would the upper moons (Plus Hantengu clones) react to an S/O who is allergic to the sun? Like they have Solar Urticaria which gives them, and I quote here, 'causes an itchy rash or hives that appear on any skin that has been exposed to the sun' and it hurts them a lot

➤ Uppermoons with a S/O who suffers from Solar Urticaria

➤ SFW headcanons

including: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, and Hantengu clones

•

(not proof read)

Muzan

Your first mistake was giving a chance to the demon king himself and your second was keeping this little illness of yours a secret.

Literally your explanation behind for not being honest about your situation is mostly because you’re scared shitless of this man half of the time..

Because you’re a human and Muzan’s adored S/O he does also have high expectations for you when it comes to looking for the blue spider lily.

You’re human, walking in broad daylight shouldn’t be an issue? He sees no problem whatsoever! This will benefit him after all.

So, when you’re hesitant to walk outside the man grows immensely confused?

First of, how dare you disobey him and what are you not telling him?

There is absolutely no reason to keep it hidden because sooner or later Muzan will find out eventually so what’s the point? He isn’t an idiot.

Just the main explanation he didn’t notice at first is because he was focusing on more important matters. He’s an extremely busy man after all.

Soon, you inform him of your ginormous problem.

May feel a tad bit guilty for not noticing at first and on his end it’s embarrassing for coming off so dense.

Your condition is not that entirely different to a demons.

Anyway, congratulations, you just gave him the perfect opportunity to turn you into a demon.

Probably won’t be too happy if you refuse.. Muzan hates when those disagree with him because this man has the mentality that he’s always correct despite his tactics being morally wrong..

Kokushibo

Kokushibo is an introverted, an expressionless, and quite eerie demon. But do not let that fool you for him being a brainless fool.

Koku happens to be very observant.

Cares for you strongly despite his severe lack of affection. He always has a sharp eye on you.

So it doesn’t take him too terribly long to take notice of your avoidance to the sunlight.

Yeah, now he’s going ti be curious.

But instead of immediately asking you first, instead he’ll observe you from afar to find out for himself, analyzing your every move, waiting for your darkest secrets to spill at any given moment.

His plan was a complete fiasco because in turn he found out nothing. Only came off as a creepy stalker.

He may become frustrated, give up and just demand answers from you himself. Wont even ask, just will straight up demand you to tell him everything.

No point in lying about it because he isn’t idiotic.

Kokushibos reaction whenever you inform him of your allergy will be somewhat similar to Muzan’s.

Offers to transform you into a demon because it isn’t like they’ll be a striking difference, you know?

However, Kokushibo is shockingly not the type to force you into demonic nature if you’re against losing your humanity.

He may view your reason as dumb and “typical human behavior” but it’s safe to say that he’ll still love you and won’t turn you without your consent or knowledge.

Instead, Kokushibo will help you deal with your allergy in other ways which are actually beneficial.

Douma

Takes awhile to notice, out of all the uppermoons he’s the most dense, especially with inability to feel proper emotions.

With his consistent work he has to perform in the cult he has very little time with you in general.

But whenever he shares those little moments with you he savors them. It’s his only escape from the cult he unknowingly despises so much.

Douma is another observer, but in the most creepiest way possible. Makes it known that he’s a full-on stalker.

One thing he will immediately notice is that you’re repulsed by the sun. You even prefer colder weather and only ever exit the temple in the dead of night!

How cute, you’re the most demonic human he’s ever met!

Douma isn’t too fascinated by it at first nor does he care until he finds himself frequently fantasizing about it all the time.

As the thoughts nag on, Douma just kindly asks you himself.

Ah, so you’re basically allergic to the sun? Haha! how eccentric.

Cue the horrendous jokes, an increase in teasing.

Deep down, an unknown part of him is surprisingly worried about you. But of course he’ll pretend he’s not. After all, these emotions are foreign to him and he ain’t too fond of this paranoia he’s experiencing which only grows stronger.

You are Douma’s beloved S/O, his prized possession!

And like the others this menace will offer you to give up your humanity and join the demons to hopefully rise to the upper ranks.

I mean, you’re no different from a demon! Douma sees absolutely no problem with this!

This is his own special little way of him ‘helping’ you.

Besides, he does desire for you to be at his side for all eternity!

If you accept his offer, he’s beyond thrilled, overwhelmed with joy.

If you decline, Douma is visibly disappointed..not satisfied. Isn’t too fond of this feeling he’s experiencing the moment you reject his kind offer.

Very well, be that way. His feelings for you won’t change! However, so expect him to be extra overprotective. He makes sure to keep you away from the outdoors and the two of you only visit the great outdoors when the sun is down.

Akaza

Akaza is already overprotective enough as it is. Once he finds out of your condition his overprotective behavior will only increase.

There was a time where you did take a step outside on a warm summer day and immediately you break out. You feel lightheaded, break out in wrenched rashes, your delicate skin grows irritated, you look like Nezuko burning in the sunlight minus the flames.

Panicked boyfriend mode=activated.

Immediately, you and Akaza retrieve indoors. Demons and their speed. You didn’t even notice you were picked up and brought to safety until you were surrounded by the interior of your lovely home.

Akaza is astonishingly experienced when it comes to treating others who are ill or have conditions. No, he’s not a doctor. Akaza just knows how by heart.

Now, he doesn’t know everything. But he knows enough to make you feel better and not break out again!

As he treats your pruritus and erythema, Akaza keeps in mind to be very gentle with you. Even if you possess a high pain tolerance Akaza will ALWAYS be benign when it involves his lovely partner.

Poor baby is still shaken up, therefore his hands are having a mild seizure as he treats you.

Moving on, after that unfortunate incident your boyfriend has a couple questions for what the actual fuck just occurred today

He’s a commutative partner and is a bit disappointed you didn’t inform him prior.

Akaza won’t be mad forever though. He just loves you too much to stay mad at you so therefore your apology if accepted.

However, please tell him things next time. You aren’t aware of how much they really matter to him.

Yes, he as well is a cold hearted demon but at least he has a heart. Unlike his subordinates who have an insatiable hunger for human flesh like yours.

Akaza is able to control himself, possess morals to this day, no matter what happens he is always going to care about you and will take care of you whenever it’s needed!

Hantengu Clones

Sekido

He found out about your condition by accident on one unfortunate day.

Springs into action by dragging your ass back indoors and treating your delicate skin which reacted as the sun made contact with it.

However, afterwards he puts off his caring act and grows increasingly frustrated and concerned.

He only expresses anger so fuck the concerned bit. Doesn’t even admit it. But you can tell he’s worried for you in a.. angry way?

Sekido’s temper only rises the moment he realized you kept this a secret from him.

You two have been together for how long? Yet you still keep secrets? why? Do you not trust him?

Immediately assumes the worse of the worst and lashes out at you.

Yeah, he isn’t too happy and being understanding isn’t his strong suit either.

Communication has always been a problem for him.

He is mostly just lashing out because deep down he’s hurt you didn’t tell him.

Sekido is terrifyingly protective over you so there is yet again another reason he’s pissed off you never told him of your Urticaria prior.

Doesn’t want you hurt physically or emotionally in anyway.

He’s hurting you right now emotionally thought but literally screaming at you-

Moving on, you finally manage to calm this angry bastard down.

He doesn’t know a lot of your condition so you elaborate it to him.

Honestly, he understands, especially being a demon and all. Y’all are basically similar.

Sekido finally calms down the further you explain.

He loves you so he’s understanding. Be sure to stay telling him things though please😔😔

Aizetsu

As y’all’s relationship began, you inform Aizetsu of your condition, knowing well it’s important for him to know of this due to him being your beloved boyfriend.

Aizetu’s brain stops out of sheer panic.

I swear, he’s always so worried about you in general! Now it’s only increasing!

Pities you.

What a pity that you’re a mere human and can’t even set foot outside and feel the warm sunlight on your face..

He honestly makes you feel worse about it which is a red flag in your opinion.

Like hello?? you just need him to understand. You don’t need all that pity nonsense!

You just simply explain to him how that doesn’t help and it only causes him to feel more horrible.

Fortunately for you though, he apologizes.

Becomes even more protective of you then he already is.

Thankfully you never had an incident because you take good care of yourself.

Aizetsu also keeps a sharp eye on you even though you don’t need it.

Like Sekido, he relates to you.

Lowkey craves for you to become a demon like him.

But at the same time he doesn’t want you to lose your humanity because he knows that’s very important to you. Plus, it would upset you. Aizetsu despises seeing you upset.

Karaku

To put it bluntly, Karaku may come off as a horrendous dumbass and menace but he isn’t actually an idiot.

Knows what’s going on, what he’s doing, he isn’t exactly dense nor misunderstanding. Especially when it comes to his precious S/O.

So whenever you inform him of your condition, explain to him what it means, etc. He confesses he already knew something was up prior but waited for you to tell him yourself.

Karaku is honestly happy to know that at least you two can relate with the whole sun dilemma.

He even teases you about it here and there. I mean, he’s a demon so what do you expect?

Earns a slap in the face if he ever taunts you or teases you.

Ok, ok, for your sake he’ll stop with the immature jokes. 🙄

Karaku is highly aware on how your little condition upsets you and how you deeply desire to feel the warm sunlight beaming down onto your delicate skin without having this troubling condition.

He is always there for you to cheer you up whenever you get insecure about it!

Even becomes even more protective of you.

He knows damn well you aren’t stupid enough to walk outside on purpose but he still loves the feeling of looking out for you and being there for you.

He’s cocky about it too.

Karaku always reminds you that he still loves you despite your condition. He knows how insecure you are about it and you always overthink that he’ll get bored of you and leave which isn’t the case. He loves you for you! Even though he teases you like hell.

Urogi

Similar to Karaku, this mf is cocky as hell about it.

Says shit like; “Damn really? Guess we have more in common than i thought baby.”

He’s so goofy. A silly lil demon. 💀💀

Also one positive wack. Attempts to help you develop a slightly more positive mindset. He knows how negative you can get due to your condition which you have a burning hatred for.

Deep down, he’s lowkey a upset for you, he wishes you and him could walk under the sun together. But covers it up with his happy facade.

Reminds you that you’re like him and that he doesn’t see the problem. I mean, he still loves you and has even more in common with you!

He tries his very gosh-darn hardest to make you feel better about it.

Since you cannot appreciate the sun, Urogi and you go out in the evening and have wholesome small dates!

Unfortunately, y’all can’t really go into town cause of his demonic form

BUTTTT you both have picnic dates under the moonlight. He finds a way to make you appreciate the night/the moonlight instead of sun.

Constantly reassures you that it’ll be alright!

Urogi will also pick you up and flies you around on his back to have fun!

Now for the semi-red flags: He has the strong habit of teasing you. Not intentionally because he enjoys hurting you or anything.. He just assumes ahead of time that it’ll make you feel a tad bit better!

Is always on a mission to witness you at least crack a smile at his childish humor.

By the way, his teasing doesn’t benefit you in the slightest..

If you’re okay with his jokes and are able to joke with him then you two just bond over that and you soon get over your insecurities.

However, if you cannot handle it and are sensitive, which is completely valid in your case. Urogi will tone it done and search for other solutions to help you out!

But he does sometimes find it amusing when you proceed to call the sun ‘evil’ and hide from it when you’re in a bad mood..

Yeah the sun is evil. Bro agrees with you. 😡😡

Omg, sorry this took so long to finish! I hope i wrote these headcanons met your expectations and i hope you enjoyed reading them:) bye-bye! (also this ain’t proof-read so sry if there are any typos)

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666writingcafe · 5 months ago

Text

New Voice Messages (Part Two)

Solomon

"I know you're probably busy helping the brothers, so I completely understand you not answering right away. I've thought about it, and I realized Thirteen does have a point about me not keeping my past a secret from you. It's just that previously, trying to recall those memories brings about a lot of pain, making me inconsolable for several days. *sighs* But I'd much rather you hear it directly from me than from Barbatos or Thirteen. I'll share as much as I can, but please be understanding if I don't tell you everything in one go."

"I was born in a country where magic was thought to be sinister and wrong. It was something to be reviled. All it took was the slightest rumor, and anyone involved was branded a heretic, locked up, and executed. So, needless to say, my parents freaked out when I was born with magical abilities. My entire family would face consequences if word got out, so they told everyone that I had a serious illness and kept me from coming into contact with anyone inside the house. The safest room in the house was the basement, so that became my room for many years. Thirteen actually discovered me in there. She tried comforting me, but since she was wearing traditional reaper attire, her words didn't do much to comfort me."

"Sorry. Needed a moment to recollect myself. I'm okay now. Anyway, as I was growing up, I tried really hard to suppress my own power. But then one day I just couldn't anymore. *pauses* The real reason why I can't go back to my hometown is because it doesn't exist anymore. I destroyed it when I lost control over my magic. The land itself is cursed now. Anyone that steps foot on it is sure to meet a quick, gruesome death. I didn't realize what had happened until I was surrounded by rubble and dead bodies. I ended up collapsing to the ground and sobbing. I knew it wouldn't undo all the destruction, but what else could I do? Barbatos eventually came and took me away to Thirteen's cave, where he made me the guardian of the Fountain of Knowledge and branded me the Witty Sorcerer."

"That's about the general gist of my past. There are some specific details that I don't feel comfortable sharing right now. *pauses again* You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, MC. If you're not careful, you'll become more dangerous than I ever was at that point in my life. You might actually be able to destroy entire realms, not just one or two towns. Don't let anyone manipulate you into making that decision, not even our angels and demons. You're not a puppet. You have the right to forge your own path and decide your future."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me thirteen #obey me barbatos

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mrworldwideshoulders · 1 year ago

Text

all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones.

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule.

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing?

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder.

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.”

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.”

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street.

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet.

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed.

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.”

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab?

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t.

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain.

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.”

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?”

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.”

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.”

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.”

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it.

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous.

Especially someone like you.

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night.

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk.

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again."

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?"

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks.

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab."

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work.

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t.

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?”

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.”

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?”

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.”

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though."

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp.

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home.

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.”

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.”

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.”

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management.

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room.

That’s when you see him.

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.”

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.”

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.”

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.”

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly.

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.”

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?”

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.”

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?”

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.”

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?”

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?”

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.”

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?”

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.”

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.”

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.”

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.”

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.”

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table.

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.”

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter.

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation.

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.”

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.”

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things."

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?”

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto.

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.”

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.”

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?”

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.”

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #reader x myg #mrworldwideshoulders #i hate tags lol

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haru-natsuka · 7 months ago

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The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 6: Obelian Emperor

The couple, though formally married, harbored a deep and profound hatred for each other. Their relationship was so damaged that it seemed impossible to mend. Every interaction between them was laced with bitterness and resentment, their words filled with sharp barbs and their silences laden with tension and suppressed anger. Despite their formal union, their marriage was nothing more than a form of torture, each one trapped in a suffocating cycle of hatred and hostility towards the other.

Female reader will be named as Celestial

"Athy, comes here!"

Despite the empress's attempt to call the young princess to come closer, Athasia seemed to be frozen in shock, as if her life was flashing before her eyes. Her body trembled as though she was caught in the middle of a terrible nightmare, unable to move or escape the situation. It was as though a wave of fear and panic had paralyzed her, causing her to tremble and freeze in place, unable to comply with the empress's command.

Claude paid no mind to the empress, his focus completely on the child. His face was expressionless as he studied her features, taking in every detail with a critical eye. This was the second time that Claude had seen the child's face, and his reaction was far from warm and welcoming. Instead, he maintained a cold and stoic demeanor, leaving the child to shiver in fear at his unfeeling gaze. It was a far from pleasant encounter for the young princess, as she faced Claude's cold and emotionless stare. What a warm welcome he provided to the young princess.

The small, velvet bag that the princess had been holding in her hand suddenly fell to the ground as she lost her grip, and some of the jewels inside spilled out. The sight of the jewels scattering out caused the princess to grow even paler, her eyes wide with fear and trepidation. It was as though she was filled with horror over the prospect of what might happen next and the consequences she might face for stealing the jewels from the palace. Her secret and long time effort had gone to waste.

"That face... I've seen it before"

Claude's voice was cold and emotionless as he spoke at the end of his breath. His words seemed to come out with a hint of recognition, as if he had seen the princess's face before. As his mood soured, a coldness seemed to settle upon the atmosphere around them, as if the very air had grown icy and chilled. The atmosphere became ominous and tense, as if the entire environment was responding to the emperor's dark emotions.

Athanasia was fixated and entranced by the emperor's presence, studying him intently. It was a surreal moment for her, as this was the first time she was face to face with her supposed father who had abandoned her since birth.

"Yes, was it that dancer from Siodonna. You look like that wench"

Claude spoke with cold and detached tone, referring to his late concubine and addressing her as "that wench" rather than by her name. It was clear that he had loved her dearly in the past but now held nothing but hatred towards her. He was a self-centered and ungrateful individual who only cared about being loved and did not reciprocate those feelings in return. He was someone who was selfish to a person who had loved him. Diana and Anastacius

"And I think I remember what that wench named you. I believe it was Athanasia"

Claude stepped closer to his daughter and crunched down to her level, tugging her chin to make her look up at him. The sight of Athanasia looking so frightened, as if her soul had left her body, was something the empress had never seen before. Unable to hold back any longer, the empress picked up a nearby vase, not caring about its worth or any consequences she might face, and threw it at the space between Claude and his bodyguard, Felix.

"Don't you dare to come any closer. Never EVER TOUCH MY CHILD" The empress's voice rang out with a fierce protectiveness, her words carrying a weight of authority and determination.

Celestial glared at Claude with a deep-seated hatred, her eyes burning with anger. Without hesitation, she scooped up Athanasia in her arms, placing her head on her shoulder, effectively shielding her from the sight of the tyrant.

Despite the injury she had inflicted on her husband earlier by throwing the vase, she showed no regret or remorse, as the pain she had caused him was not enough to diminish the hatred she felt towards him for his past transgressions. Claude observed the interaction between the empress and the princess with a glint of curiosity and intrigue in his eyes.

"Interesting," he said wryly, his eyes flickering between the empress and the young princess.

"She's not even your child, yet you treat her as one. I've never caught that the two of you being this close"

His words were dripping with sarcasm, as he seemed to derive some sort of perverse pleasure from witnessing the bond between the empress and the princess. With a wave of his hand, Claude used his power to take control of Athanasia's body and lift her into the air. The young princess, now suspended in the air, found herself in Claude's grasp, her small figure dangling from the emperor's grip, as if a marionette being controlled by a puppet master.

Celestial watched in horror as Claude effortlessly lifted Athanasia mid-air using his power. The sight of her child being helpless in the emperor's clutches fueled her anger and determination to protect her daughter at all costs. The scene brought back painful memories of that fateful day at the Ruby Palace, and the sound of the princess' crying still echoed in her ears like a haunting reminder of the tragedy that unfolded. She clenched her fists, her lips trembling with a mixture of anger and fear.

"Let her go!" she demanded, her voice shaking with urgency. "Release her immediately, you heartless monster!" The emperor's tone was chilly and emotionless as he spoke to the empress, his eyes fixed on her with a cold, penetrating glare.

"I sent you to learn etiquette," he remarked, his voice biting with thinly veiled irritation. "It seems your lessons have been ineffective." He paused for a moment, his gaze remained on the empress as he unleashed a subtle threat.

"Do not test my limits, empress," he warned, his words laced with a dangerous undertone.

"If you want her, come out yourself and take her from me"

Claude challenged her, well aware of the empress's inability to defy him. Only few knew the reasons behind the empress's confinement within the Emperor Palace, as he was the one who bounded her to the place. Celestial was bound by the constraints of a spell he had placed upon her long ago in exchange for Athanasia safety. It was their agreement back then.

The empress's heart ached with a deep sense of hopelessness and despair, a sorrow etched upon her features as she stood motionless, watching helplessly as the emperor carried her child away from her. She stood there, frozen in place, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she fought back the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

"Give her back to me. Claude, I'm willing to do anything! Stop killing the people I loved!"

@fluffy-koalala @happydeertraveler

Chapter 5 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 7

#anastacius de alger obelia #anastacius x reader #claude de alger obelia #claude x reader #wmmap #wmmap fanfic #wmmap anastacius #romance #who made me a princess #wmmap x reader #wmmap claude #manhwa #manhwa x reader #wmmap athanasia

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iwaoiness · 4 months ago

Text

This is entirely and exclusively Hanamaki’s fault. If he hadn’t planted that ridiculous idea in his head—that you can tell how someone kisses just by the way they bite into an apple—Oikawa wouldn’t be staring so intently at Iwaizumi devouring a fucking apple.

He also wouldn’t be completely mesmerized by the way Iwaizumi’s teeth (and those sharp canines) sink into the fruit, by how his lips close around the piece, by how his strong jaw tightens with each bite, by how a bit of juice drips from the corner of his mouth as he chews, or by the way his thick Adam’s apple moves when he swallow

And, without a doubt, he wouldn’t be thinking over and over about how good Hajime must be at kissing, or how in the world he wishes he were that apple, and how—

"Ouch!" Tooru blinks as if waking from a dream, his train of thought abruptly cut off. He immediately brings his hand to his forehead where he felt the impact, narrowing his eyes at Iwaizumi, who meets his gaze with an expressionless look, his knuckles still raised. "What the fuck was that for, Iwa-chan?!"

"You were staring too much. Did you put something in the apple?" Iwaizumi asks suspiciously, gesturing to the half-eaten fruit in his other hand.

"How rude!" Oikawa pouts. "I would never do something like that, I’m a being of pure light!" But Iwaizumi keeps staring at him blankly.

Tooru tries to hold his gaze. He really does—he even furrows his brow and lifts his chin. But Iwaizumi is as unyielding as he is during arm wrestling, and it doesn’t take long before Oikawa feels the crushing intensity that forces him to look away first with an annoyed huff and flushed cheeks.

"So? What is it?" Iwaizumi insists, amused now that he’s won again.

"Nothing," Oikawa mutters.

"Oikawa."

He groans, rolling his eyes before scowling at Hajime. He’s embarrassed, but there’s no way he’s going to show it—his pride comes before anything.

"Makki told me you can tell how someone kisses by the way they bite into an apple."

Iwaizumi blinks, glancing from the apple to Oikawa and back to the apple again before raising an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued.

"Really?" Tooru nods, feeling like his cheeks are about to burst. "Then? Am I a good kisser?" He smiles again, genuinely flirty in a way Oikawa has only seen a handful of times, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust any second now.

"...You're a bad kisser," he mutters a bit too quietly, swallowing hard as his ridiculously stupid best friend leans in just a little closer.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Mmh." Iwaizumi hums, not breaking eye contact for even a second as he slowly takes another bite of the apple.

And fuck Makki, and fuck apples, and fuck the stupid kissing theory, and fuck apples again, and fuck his impulsiveness that makes him snatch the apple from Iwa-chan's hand before grabbing him by the collar to pull him in and kiss him right on the mouth.

...

now we're +200 followers thank u so so so much!! 🫂

and guess what i changed the layout pray that lasts long enough lol

u can find me on my ao3 ��

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takes1 · 5 months ago

Note

Hi !!! Hope u had a great day:)

I’d like to request some fluff with maybe Kuroo or Akaashi?

Take care of urself, love u (nd ur works !!)💗

hi!! thank you so much and ty for the request! take care and much love babes!! i kinda ended up using this more fluffy req as a backdrop for a kenma/kuroo/reader series idea i had ;)

warnings. sfw, fluffy / nsfw to follow in future parts

info. fem!reader / kenma-esque!reader / flirty!kuroo / kuroo with a crush / TA!reader / collegeau / quiet-shy!reader / future kenmaxreaderxkuroo / 900 words. reply to be added to taglist

haikyuu collection here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist.

If it wasn't for how slow this class dragged, Kuroo never would have raised a hand for the TA to come over and look over his syntax file.

But he had no intention of staying later, nor getting a shit grade because his lines were wrong, so he resorted to somewhat-desperate measures. Not like the guys at his table were any help, anyway. Two of them never got off their phones, and one was packing up after he breezed through the assignment.

Glazed eyes rolled, semi-jealous, mostly disinterested, over the seat becoming vacant next to him. Try-hard.

It filled with a much better view. How hadn't he noticed the TA was a chick before?

"What's the issue?" You asked, unbelievably quiet and even.

A couple clicks on his keyboard, which he noticed was not perfectly clean at this moment, and a different file replaced the first.

The light reflected back in your eyes- big, and wide, yet completely expressionless. It was familiar, in a way, and he felt almost drawn into you to look for how, or why. He leaned closer just by an inch.

"Nothin'," He mumbled, eyes bouncing back and forth from your face to his laptop, "Just wanted a check."

You didn't look at him. In fact, you weren't going to. He stared at the side of your face and found that you harbored none of the same curiosity for him.

Did he know you from somewhere else?

Unlikely. You looked like you didn't get out much.

"You should take a look at your third line, it's off," You sighed, glancing around the room to locate two more hands up.

Just as you started to stand up and leave him to figure out what was wrong, his chatter demanded that you stay a moment longer.

"Couldn't you just- I don't know, tell me what's wrong with it?" He smirked.

You turned towards him, unamused, and he realized exactly who you reminded him of.

A very handsome, entertained grin filled his face while you explained that it's not your job to do his work.

In the middle of your next sentence, he shamelessly cut you off in a rush of excitement, eyes darting, curious but certainly not innocent, over every bit of you.

"That's it! Kenma-," He chuckled, leaning back in his seat.

"--What-, what?" Your brow furrowed, just about the only emotion you had expressed yet, at his off-putting and ill-timed realization.

"You're just, uh-," He tapped his pencil, tentative, on the desk, and let it go, "You're totally my buddy's type."

"Is that a joke?"

"No! No," He smiled and rubbed his face, clearly occupied with a flurry of thoughts, and somehow settled on, "You should give me your number," In the midst of it all.

You turned around without another word and left to help the other students.

He sat, dumbfounded, still grinning open-mouthed as his pencil rolled off of his desk and hit the floor.

Part of him just couldn't believe he was so off of his usual game. He couldn't recall any other time he had been shut down like that; at least not by a girl.

And yet, it further proved his point since that was something Kenma had done to him multiple times.

He stayed for the entire class just to talk to you again. He had slightly more intelligence than to try and get your help again, so he waited until the room cleared out and you were packing up to attempt smoothing things over.

You visibly straightened, book clutched harder to your chest, when he approached.

"I'm sorry," Kuroo held his hands out in a way that made him seem a bit more harmless, but you didn't let up, "Honest, I didn't mean to freak you out back there."

The guy was tall -towering, even- and his black t-shirt left little to the imagination. You didn't often associate with guys like him, if at all. It threw you off that he kept trying to talk to you.

Your nose was scrunched just a little. Exactly like Kenma when he got upset about something. This time, he kept his cute aggression to himself with a sobering breath.

"I'm Kuroo." He held his hand out for you to shake.

Oh, God. You hated handshakes.

He bit back a smile.

"I'm... (Y/n)," Hesitant, you returned it and tried not to think too hard about how giant his hand was.

It got a lot harder the longer you looked up at him. You felt your face getting warm when you noticed how broad his shoulders were, even when stooped down to come across as more friendly.

"I get not wanting to give your number out," He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, "So I'll just give you mine."

It wasn't until later that you realized there were actually two numbers written down, and you would have no clue which one was his.

"You sure you don't wanna go grab a coffee or something?"

His crooked grin was something out of a romantic novel, but all it did was make you shrink. His even bigger grin told you he already knew the answer.

An instant no- every part of you wanted to get away from this guy so you could just relax again.

"Fair enough," He wasn't subtle in the way he glanced around your face, your hair, your eyes, before tearing himself away, "Just think about it, yeah?"

taglist:

none! reply to be added for future parts

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yuesya · 7 months ago

Text

With a gasp, awareness floods into his body once more.

Open cuts knit themselves back together, broken bones realign with no regard for his own will. A dead heart that was just run through by a sword of ice and moonlight begins beating once more, forcing blood to pump through the veins of an abomination that has no desire to be tethered to life.

A frustrated hiss escapes his throat, and Blade hauls himself upright, slowly rising from a pool of his own blood.

… The Mara is quiet, for once. It’s quiet for the very first time since his return to the Xianzhou Luofu; the past several days in this agonizingly familiar land have served as a special hell all of its own. But he knows that the current respite in his head is only an illusionary peace, merely one that follows the aftermath of every temporary ‘death.’ Soon, the Mara will rear its head once more, flooding his mind with madness and bloodlust that isn’t entirely his own–

But that’s nothing new.

Staggering to his feet as his body continues healing in complete disregard of his own wishes, Blade casts a glance around his surroundings. The young Cloud Knight child, Jing Yuan’s apprentice, is speaking quietly with his master. A slight distance away from them, closer to the lapping waves of the Scalegorge Waterscape, stand Imbibitor Lunae’s incarnation and Jingliu.

Jingliu.

The one who’d carved her swordplay into Blade’s immortal body, every cut and slice and ice-cold utterance, Of five, there are three who must pay a price. Who’d been the one to kill him just now, at Blade’s own behest.

Who’d failed to kill him.

Again.

…

Elio had informed him beforehand that this was not the stage where he would find his final death. Once more, his scripts are accurate to a fault.

It’s not yet time, Blade.

Yes. He knows.

His end… will not come at the hands of Jingliu, who’d already killed him thousands upon thousands of times before. Nor will it occur in an altercation against a powerful opponent who far outstrips him in combat ability, nor from any enemy that he encounters when playing out his role in Elio’s scripts.

“As expected,” he murmurs quietly, “In the end, my death… can only be wrought by your hands, Shiki.”

White hair, blue eyes. Quiet, and expressionless. A calmness that remains unchanged even as she stands upon a mountain of corpses, and the ground beneath her feet runs red with blood.

‘The swords of mortals cannot kill the flesh of Emanators, who are blessed by Aeons.’ Jingliu’s words do not lie, but Shiki is an exception. She’s also more curse than mortal.

One day, eventually…

“Who’s ‘Shiki,’ if I might ask?”

There’s a guileless smile on Jing Yuan’s face when Blade lifts his gaze towards the other man. Guileless, but lined by something sharp.

“As an Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance, it’s only natural that I’m a little curious,” he says, “About someone who has the capability to kill a being created from the flesh of an Emanator of Abundance.”

“Not yet.”

Jing Yuan arches an eyebrow. “But they will in the future?”

Yes. That much, Elio has confirmed.

“… Interesting. What’s your relationship? Ah, don’t tell me it’s another Stellaron Hunter–”

White hair splaying out everywhere. Blue eyes looking up towards him from the ground. Silver Wolf holding out a phone with a colorful glowing screen, “Hurry up, I need you two for co-op rewards!”

Falling asleep, using Firefly’s shoulder as a pillow. The air in the corridor is cold, and both of them are wearing too little. They need a blanket. Firefly glances up and smiles when one is draped over them, “Thank you, Blade.”

Sitting beside a coffee machine, three steaming cups arranged atop the counter. Kafka shaking her head, bemused, “Why do you always make your coffee so sweet? Even Bladie is going to get cavities at this rate.”

A single girl, surrounded by a sea of dismembered corpses. Every step leaves a bloodstained footprint as she approaches.

“There you are, Blade. Let’s go back.”

…

Shiki. His relationship with her would be…

“One who seeks death,” he answers, “And one who brings it.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #stellaron hunter au #this takes place towards the tail end of jingliu's character quest #after the cutscene where she and blade fight each other basically #thank you to ko-fi friends!

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notsodailykurudoro · 3 days ago

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Day 95

Dororo lacked an appetite.

Despite his flawless care habits, rigorous training that he glided through with ease, the extra attention he gave to others, his strong morals, and insistence on staying on the bright path after belonging to the shadows for so many years, it was a reality, an asterisk in his portfolio, a blue stain on the white cloak of hypocrisy.

Dororo didn't feel like eating.

Dororo, in fact, refused to eat.

Even though this affliction did not greatly affect his almost invincible performance, it exposed him to certain situations that were, at the very least, unfavorable and uncomfortable. A fake laugh accompanied by a hand gesture of rejection, a polite decline that, under insistence, turned into cold sweat and finally into the bitterness of giving in. He had always been weak to social pressure, weak to the pure of the heart, as he would say.

Kururu was not like that.

After constant, close inspection and very long sessions of trial and error, he realized how curious his nature was. He could spend entire days awake, with the occasional bite of a curry-flavored nutrition bar, too engrossed in whatever task or objective was in front of him, determined to finish it until the inevitable snap of reality fell on his shoulders and brought him to collapse, something that he eventually found out only happened when he was in total and complete solitude. Something that changed once the trained assassin settled into his routine.

Once he finished his endless days of leisure, hunger attacked him as if his stomach was demanding blood, and he ended up eating anything he had within reach with aggressive voracity, regardless of the time, as long as no one could see him. He tore up packages, skinned pieces of meat or chicken, gobbled up noodles, inhaled instant curry, and if the gods decided to take pity on his putrid soul and he happened to have access to homemade curry (or, in general, something more edible than the packaged garbage he got at any grocery store), there was no power on earth that could keep him from almost tearing off his fingers or eating part of the plate. It was a spectacle, one that he had been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to experience more than once.

And from that moment on, the Ninja tried to get packages of food prepared by him to hand over. Once again, the extra attention to others was messing with his own well-being.

He loved Pekopon, he loved his friends, he loved his hobbies, and he loved Kururu, but that conclusion came only after an extensive period of deconstruction and a very severe identity crisis that cast a shadow over him, which he was still trying to leave behind to this very day. The things he saw and did during his time in the assassins' corps were only to remain in his darkest nightmares and in the most horrible of his intrusive thoughts, things so ruthless, immoral, unpleasant.

It wasn't until he tried to take a bite of a piece of undercooked ham that, the impact of the taste making him return to the darkest of his days, made him realize that perhaps, and just perhaps, the problem ran a little deeper than he had initially thought.

He grimaced in disgust, only reflected in his usually expressionless eyes, as he witnessed how the Sergeant Major noisily slurped what a moment ago was his almost intact soup without waiting for a concrete response from him. It wasn't like he would have denied it to him anyway, but the urgency with which he was devouring his food (and his, too) was perhaps starting to displease him a little, besides the fact that he was starting to consider it somewhat rude.

He sighed again, looking away at the rest of the event hall, which was also part of the underground base of the platoon, decorated halfway with lights and other Christmas miscellany for the season, and also with the mess that gradually grew while his companions argued and ran around the entire venue wrapped in the decorations. Completely oblivious to the conflict, he barely made an effort to put the pieces together of what he more or less found out before the situation escalated... Did the life cycle of geese have something to do with the color of the grass in the stadium? He had no clue.

It was horrible; he felt strangely melancholic, almost dizzy from the lights and the screams. Christmas was supposed to be a time to rejoice in the company of those you care about the most, to feel grateful for what you have in your life and what you have achieved during the year, to admire the decorated houses, the families, the friends, the lovers... None of that entered into the bitter feeling that built up in his stomach and made his chest throb.

He considered excusing himself and calling it a day, returning the next day or maybe in a week, clearing his mind with more meditation, having tea with Koyuki, but he had no idea when the next time they would include him in their plans would be and he did not wanted to risk cutting short valuable time in the company of...

Another glimpse of Giroro hitting Keroro, who was on the ground with Christmas lights wrapped around his torso, with a comically large candy cane in his hand, erased his train of thought in a flash, and his grimace only grew larger. He prepared to stand up.

"Very well, this has been deligh-" he began.

"FFFWAAAHh-" A high-pitched, nasally voice exhaled from beside him, finally satisfied after having victoriously exterminated as many dishes as he could reach from what used to be the feast prepared for their small meeting thousands of meters underground.

"Now THAT is a Christmas miracle, Ne, Doro?"

"Ah..." Interrupted once again mid-sentence, he managed to blurt out, halfway up to leave.

"What? You gonna empty the tank?" Kururu returned, halfway to lying down on the ground.

"Um... Actually, I... I was just about to-" He tried to excuse himself, making inconclusive gestures, realizing it would be quite rude to take his leave without a proper goodbye.

"...N-Nevermind."

"Haaaah..." The yellow frog blurted out, scratching his stomach and looking away at the trio of morons who were now hanging Giroro from the ceiling with the same Christmas lights and preparing (or at least hinting at it) to use him as a piñata.

They both entertained themselves for a few minutes staring in mutual silence at the stupid scene before Kururu spoke up.

"Welp, I'm fed up. Wanna get outta here?"

Slightly surprised, he was able to return his gaze in time to process his request, take one last look at the rest, and nod firmly.

And once outside, he could finally breathe.

Their shared silence always seemed comforting to him, being able to lose himself in his own thoughts with the freedom of knowing that the other was doing exactly the same until one felt the eventual need to mention something before returning to calm, sometimes for hours, sometimes for minutes.

This was one of those minutes.

"You're quiet," Kururu spoke, bringing him out of his trance.

"What do you mean? I always try to reserve my words." He answered after seconds of stupefaction.

"More than usual, too much jovial charade?"

Dororo seemed to consider it, staring at the mechanical floor beneath his feet that constantly moved in tune with the machinery, saving them the tedious task of walking barefoot through the endless corridors of the base.

"...Maybe."

"Hm."

Another couple of minutes passed, seeming to stretch on for hours. Usually, they didn’t take the scenic route; by now, if they had wanted to, they would have already been in front of the metal doors of the amphibious lemonade lab. He supposed his autopilot got the better of him, unconsciously falling into one of Kururu's psychological traps.

He bristled a bit at the realization, doing a fleeting recount of all his actions during the day and the week while he was at it, failing to take a hint at the subject of the mental war that was approaching.

"You didn't touch your food."

Oh. Oh no.

"...You didn't let me."

"You haven't done it in a while."

Insightful, and honestly not surprising.

"A-Ah... Is... Is that so?"

"Listen, as far as I'm concerned, you can starve yourself if it means you're in the middle of some weird ninja starvation vow. I don't care what you do to honor the persona you created in your roleplay post-trauma, but believe me, I don't want to be the one to drag you once you fall face-first into the ground because of this stupid little antic."

He sounded oddly harsh, mad even, genuinely exasperated by something as banal as he believed his little intermittent fasting was. No matter how much he turned his claims over, he couldn’t fully understand his frustration or what at least resembled such.

"Such... thing is not going to happen, I can assure you. My health is above all in perfect condition." A half-lie, perhaps accustomed to the static in his vision, to the numbness of his words, and the slowness of his cognitive tramp.

"Sure." He spat, cynical as always in that mocking bite that adorned his own words.

Tense, he pressed his forearms together a bit, feeling somewhat scolded and remaining in cold silence for the rest of the journey. At least until the belts split, and the decision to jump to Kururu's or stay on his own to go off on his own presented itself to him. Panicking a little in the face of uncertainty, he opened and closed his mouth as he searched for the right words to ease the burden he felt he had placed on the hacker's crooked back. Finally, he opted to move from his spot, at least to beg for an apology, and if possible, a hug, any kind of physical contact, any pixel of validation. He took a step forward.

And that was the last thing he knew.

Fading in the process, a deafening pressure enveloped his senses and took his breath away, effectively falling face-first to the ground.

Still dragged by the moving platforms, Dororo remained motionless.

The yellow devil let out some sounds of urgency (and annoyance), condemned to the irony of his predictions always coming back to bite him in the ass. Cursing under his breath, his hands gripped the ninja's pits and dragged him to a more optimal area on the belts, at least while they arrived at their destination.

"I told you, I told you, I fucking told you. I always tell you, and you never listen to me. You're a…" He muttered between pushes, the mechanical statue with its face rising imposingly behind him.

He huffed, wiping sweat from his forehead, before slapping it after remembering that he could make robotic limbs emanate from his gear to make the task of carrying a body in the solitude of his mechanized cave easier… For once, without malicious intent. He supposed his autopilot got the better of him.

Still grumbling, he held Dororo suspended in the air, supported by six spider hands. The statue's teeth raised upon detecting his presence and emitted a few extra beeps upon recognizing the shinobi's. His own hands clung to his churning stomach in an attempt to ease the nausea caused by the scare and physical effort previously used. It was his fault for overdoing it like that anyway; he could only hope that he didn't end up throwing up that night.

He gently positioned his partner in his Gaming Chair™, manipulating buttons, commands, and medical equipment with his mechanical hands while he rubbed his face in eternal tiredness and stress, sitting on the floor next to the blue-hued frog. He connected small tubes to his arms that led to plastic bags with strange liquids, serums, and alien substances that perhaps, if he were in the right mood, he would take the trouble to explain in excessive detail. Withdrawing assistance once everything was in order, he shrank a little in his place when he noticed that the discomfort was only getting worse.

He let out a shaky sigh, looking up at one of his huge screens to see the time: 1:05 AM, December 25th. Christmas.

"Tch… Ho, ho, ho, motherfucker." He tilted his smile, staring at the sleeping frame of his partner.

This was nothing out of the expected; he had gotten used to the idea that sooner or later, he would end up tying him to a chair and forcing him to eat, or maybe take a rag and cut off his breathing until he fell asleep and proceed with the same idea. Even suddenly attacking him with syringes while his guard was down, taking advantage of moments of closeness, or simply going all in and stabbing the poor bastard. But he never thought that the moment would come so quickly, or much less in such an easy and, he would be lying if he didn't admit it, anticlimactic way.

Nevertheless, a failure in his almost precise calculations was a failure; there was no denying that. This was not what he expected from his night when he left the room with a full stomach. Yes, his emotional instigation was a stone in the road, and yes, maybe he also got a little bit carried away with the "scolding." But it was nothing that couldn't be smoothed out with a little more time, nice words, and a grope here and there.

Dororo was easy to manipulate, and it just so happened that Kururu almost always got his way out of things. He wasn't even leading him toward committing illicit acts! Everyone had a win on this!

…Had one.

Christmas was supposed to be about freebies, food, and consumerism, and basic decency and kindness, no matter how many war crimes and hate crimes you committed over your long career in the scumbag chain of the worst of spatial scum. Endless speeches about love and peace and giving, the hopeful looks of idiots rejoicing at the most futile of gestures, the smallest of compliments, the most meaningless of gifts…

To become uncomfortable under the coldest of touches…

He shuddered all over, his stomach churning with the aggression of a miniature typhoon, twisting and bending his organs until he felt the gags graze the back of his throat, flesh sizzling against the acid.

Oh no, he definitely wasn't going to be able to hold this one, he thought fleetingly, unable to find a trash can in time. Grabbing an unfinished helmet attached to a myriad of cables, he emptied some of the contents of his stomach inside.

Making a mess of the unfinished apparatus, he remained in that position for a few seconds before regurgitating again. His gags and whimpers echoed too loudly in the lab's silence, as he threw up another slice of turkey and stew.

"Nnngh..."

He hated food.

He hated Dororo.

He hated the way he always bragged about being nice and good, with his old-fashioned sayings, his well-kept garden, his almost perfect physical condition, and the pretentious advice he gave, as if he knew him or at least had a rough idea of what was going on in his head.

He snorted, idiot, he couldn't even take care of himself. He was just as mortal as everyone else, just as miserable and pathetic.

He laughed to himself, in a fetal position, waiting for the nausea to pass. His congested breathing made him snore and sound unpleasant as he tried to boast.

Poor thing, of course, he needed him. What would become of Dororo if he wasn't there to drag him out of his misery bubble?

"... Yeah..." He found himself muttering, turning his permanent smile upside down.

"Kur-... uru..."

He jolted upwards, how much time had passed?

He rushed to Dororo's side, who was beginning to stir and show signs of consciousness. Kururu tried to hide a sigh of relief.

"Don't strain yourself, dumbass." He warned, rubbing one of his eyes, still dizzy from his earlier vomiting.

"What... happened...?" Dororo tried, attempting to bring a hand to his face, only to notice his restricted movement.

"Don't move." Kururu said quickly, holding down his arm with one hand, carefully

They finally locked eyes.

“... You passed out because you are a crybaby who doesn't want to eat his fruits and vegetables.”

"I'm... sorry."

"You're a moron." Kururu frowned, tempted to hit him behind the head, without taking his hand off the other.

They held their stare for a while, one crystallizing and the other softening.

"Tch... Fine, apology accepted..." Kururu looked away, crossing his arms.

Dororo, in all his exhaustion, couldn't help but muster a hidden smile.

"I... suppose you did end up being the one to-"

"Drag you once you fell face-first to the ground, yeah, I know, very funny, Doro..."

A pang stabbed through his chest and stomach. He remained silent before trying to move one of his arms again to reach out for Kururu.

"I'm... sorry." He repeated, his hand in the air stretched towards Kururu's direction before being held by the wrist by an alien touch. A touch that, even coming from annoyance, was nothing more than a gentle squeeze.

"I said don't move, you braindead?"

"Are you mad?"

"What kind of question is that? Of COURSE, I'm ma-..." Kururu cut himself off, falling silent and looking at the floor for a few seconds before returning his gaze.

"No." A blatant lie, as he led Dororo's hand to a more optimal position and let him go.

Resigned, the ninja stood still, losing his sight in some dead spot in the room while Kururu walked away to lean on his desk and let his weight fall on his arms, exhaling a sigh between his teeth, still dizzy.

Dororo tended to make him sick.

"Would... it make you feel better if..."

"Just don't do that again..." Kururu interrupted, bringing a hand to his face to rub his eyes again under his glasses.

"What thing?"

There were a few beats of silence.

"... Scaring me."

The Shinobi's empty eyes opened a little more, worry settling on his features. Before he could properly process it, he began to tear up.

"... I'm sorry..."

"Ah, it's alright..."

Normalizing his breathing, Kururu finally turned to see the ninja practically tied to the chair, approaching to check the bags connected to him. Not yet.

He gave him a few playful pats on the cheek.

"Ne, cheer up, it's good now."

"I-Is it...?"

"Yeah, you just caught me in a bad mood."

Dororo sniffed.

"Is there a difference?"

"You're stretching it."

"... I know."

He weakly laughed, Kururu stretched his smile.

“... I'll start eating more,” Dororo added, his blurry vision showing signs of determination as he tried to focus on his partner's face.

“Do I believe you?” Kururu asked skeptically.

“I implore you to trust me.” Dororo replied.

“Only if I see it.”

Even through the haze of his own tears, Dororo could make out their faces drawing closer with each passing second. For the first time, he took the initiative to disobey previous orders and reached out to grasp the smaller frog’s face. He took the edges of his own mask with his free hand, attempting to pull it down. Until suddenly, Kururu shuddered violently, puffed out his cheeks, and vomited all over both of them.

… Merry Christmas, he guessed…

#kurudoro #keroro gunso #kururu #dororo #sgt frog #merry christmas

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poke-me-with-a-stick · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 28 of 'Artificial Wingman'!

For the full story on AO3, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Just like Jason predicted, Danny didn't seem perturbed by the news that the others were looking more into him. A little uncomfortable, sure, but not really bothered. The teen just shrugged when he was told about the conversation he and Dick had. Damian on the other hand...

"I'll kill them." The teen muttered, pacing behind the stool Danny was perched on. The look on his face was down right murderous.

"No you won't." The response is out before he could even really think about it, not that he was actually worried. "You haven't made a murder attempt in years."

Damian paused at that, glaring at the man over Danny's head, but didn't bother denying it. "Fine, I won't kill them." The teen relented, grasping his chin with his hand as he thought it over. "But I don't have to kill them to take them off the case..."

Jason let out a sigh. This was going to be a long night. "You can't maim them either. Alfred wouldn't approve." Damian huffed a breath through gritted teeth, not responding as he continued to pace a hole into the worn flooring.

"Robin, it's okay," Danny pipped up, turning to look at the teen over his shoulder. "It's not really that surprising, is it? I mean, I did punch your brother in the face before grabbing you and running away. Can you really say that it was completely unexpected for them to try and look for me?" A small, very out of place grin wormed it's way onto the demon brat's face at Danny's comment, before it was quickly stifled back into his usual expressionless expression. "Besides," Danny continued, either entirely unaware or just uncaring of what he caused, "It's not like they'll find anything on me. I don't exist here."

"I... suppose you're right," Damian admitted reluctantly, moving to lean slightly against the teen's shoulder. "I just hoped that we would have a bit more time before my paranoid family began sniffing around."

"I'm sorry, but did you just say that you punched someone? Which one was it?" Jason ignored the exchange between the two, more hung up on that little tidbit. Why hadn't he heard about this?

Danny shot him a confused look, then turned that look to Damian. "Uhh, I'm not sure. Robin, which one was he again?"

"That would be Richard. You punched my eldest adopted brother." Damian brushed the teen's bangs from his face, not paying any attention to the way Jason gaped at them, stunned. He was silent for a moment, before he burst into uproarious laughter.

"You punched Dick?" Jason couldn't hide the glee in his voice if he tried. "Oh man, that's amazing. Please tell me that there's footage of it somewhere."

A more familiar smile flickered across Damian's face this time. "I'm not sure if we have the footage, but I'm sure that it would be no problem to retrieve it from the store's security cameras ourselves at a later date." The smile fell into a more grim expression. "Of course, that will have to wait until after we plan around this... inconvenience."

Jason sobered up quickly, back on the task at hand. "Right. Well, first things first, we should probably try and keep you out of the public eye." He pointed at Danny, who was fiddling with something in his lap. "I know it sucks, but you probably shouldn't go outside much for the time being. Now that the other's are looking for you, its too risky to chance any of O's camera's catching a glimpse of you."

Danny frowned at that, his attention shifting back to the man. "I... guess that makes sense," H" He pouted, looking disappointed. "That's gonna suck."

"Do not worry," Damian pressed himself more tightly to the teen's side, as if to remind the teen of his presence. "I will not leave your side until it is safe to do so again." That seemed to cheer the teen up a bit, his cloudy expression brightening as he leaned back into the vigilantie's touch.

Nodding, Jason made a noise to gain their attention back. "Well, there's also problems that come with that, too. We can't stay here." He gestures at the apartment space around them with a wave of his arm. "This place is basically an OSHA violation. I was fine with us crashing here for a day or two, but if we're gonna be dodging the bats and birds, then we need to move shop."

Damian nodded in agreement, letting go of Danny and moving to start packing up their belongings. Danny, on the other hand, frowned. "I don't see the problem with staying here." He commented, leaning back on the bar stool until the front legs picked up off the floor before coming back down with a dull thump. "It's a bit rundown, sure, but I've stayed in worse before." Like Devine intervention, just as the words left his mouth, the stool under him gave an ominous creak before giving way. Danny let out a yelp as he was sent tumbling backwards, head first towards the crumbling counter behind him.

Both Jason and Damian lunged forwards to catch him, missing entirely as the halfa dropped through the decaying wood. They froze for a minute, trying to comprehend Danny's suddenly headless body, when the teen sat up quickly with a small screech. He was on his feet in an instant, making the two brothers jerk in place as he practically flew past them to duck behind Jazz, who had just walked into the room. "Uhh," Jazz stuttered, looking between her brother and them. "What happened here?"

Jason started to respond, but was beaten to the punch by Danny. "We were talking about how we should be moving to a new safe house!" He answered in a tone of strained cheer. "Which, I for one, think is an excellent idea! Say, Jason, did you have a place in mind? Maybe one without so many, uh, spiders?"

'Spiders?' Jason shook his head. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if Danny was anything like the rest of his family when it came to compromises, then that bar stool breaking was definitely a gift. "Uh, yeah. I had one in mind, it's a little more crowded, but it's in much better shape than this place." Not that it was much of a challenge in the first place.

"Well, that's great and all, but what about the Specter Speeder? I thought the whole point of us hiding out here was so that we could keep it hidden." Jazz pointed out cautiously. "I don't know about you, but I really don't want to just leave it somewhere too far away from us. What if we need something out of it, or someone stumbles across it?"

'She has a point.' Jason frowned, crossing his arms as he tried to come up with a solution. "She's right. We can't just leave it here, and parking it out on the street would bring too much unwanted attention to us."

Danny scoffed from where he was still hiding behind his sister. "That's an easy fix." He stated. "Just put it in Camouflage mode."

Jazz frowned at her brother. "You know turning something invisible isn't always the best way to solve your problems, little brother. Turning it invisible won't stop someone from accidentally kicking it. Or worse, someone crashing their car into it thinking that there isn't anything there."

"Uhh, I didn't say turn it invisible. I said turn on Camouflage mode." Jazz's stern frown dropped into a look of confusion. "Wait, you did know that there was a Camouflage mode, right?" When all he got was an embarrassed silence in response, an exasperated look crossed his face. "Seriously Jazz? We gave you a manual and everything!"

"Hey!" She started, defensive. "It's not my fault that you and Tucker decided to finish up just as exam week was starting! I barely had time to eat and sleep. Did you honestly expect me to read the forty-eight page booklet on all the updates you made?"

Danny blinked in surprise. "Sam made the manual forty-eight pages?" They both stared at each other for a minute, before Jazz broke into a fit of giggles. The teen followed suit, a very undignified snort escaping him. "That actually does sound like Sam." He acknowledged. "Did she make an actual book, or was it a PDF?"

"Take a wild guess." Jazz snarked at him, giggling some more when Danny shook his head with a groan. "Yeah, you remember her three-hour lecture on why excess use of paper was leading to deforestation and why it was better for the environment to switch to digital documents." Both shuddered at the reminder, making Damian and Jason glance at each other.

"Tucker was actually pretty hyped after that one." Danny admitted with a wry grin. "He and Sam spent the rest of the week persuading the school to go digital. They almost succeeded, too, if Technus hadn't invaded the computer lab and deleted the online teachers planner."

Before they could delve more into... whatever those memories were, Jason interrupted. "Well, if you have a way to hide the Speeder, then I believe we should get packed up." He turned away from the siblings, going over to help Damian stuff the pile of wires and circuits into a box. Behind them, Danny let out a squawk of panic, rushing forwards with shouts of 'Be Careful with those!'

Safe to say, it wasn't even an hour later before they were piling into the Speeder, Danny in the driver's seat. The teen fiddled with some buttons before the vehicle's exterior seemed to ripple, going invisible for a minute as he adjusted something. "Okay, what kind of disguise should I go for?" He asked, turning a dial.

"Something in black." Damian stated from the back seat, where he was buckled in behind the driver's seat. "The most common vehicle color is white, with the second being black, so it would be less likely to draw attention."

Danny nodded, the dial making a light clicking noise before he pushed it down. A generic looking car body was visible in the rear-view mirror, it's color shifting in a way that reminded Jason of Miss Martian's Bio-ship. "Okay, I think we're good to go now!" The teen shot his passengers a fanged smile as he put the vehicle in drive.

"Uhh, Jazz?" Jason glanced over at the woman. "Does your brother have a driver's license?" Maybe he should have asked before they started driving.

"No, but he practically re-built this thing. He knows how to operate it." Came her unbothered reply. He would have believed her, had the teen driving not promptly flew over a speed bump seconds later.

Thankfully, they made it to their destination in one piece. The moment the speeder came to a stop, Jason was sliding out of the back, silently praying for the poor soul that would have to grade Danny's driving when the teen did go to get his license. The man was followed a few seconds later by Damian and Jazz, Danny pouting as he pulled himself out of the now normal-looking car. "Oh, come on! My driving isn't that bad!" The teen whined.

"Beloved, you are a being with many skills. Driving does not appear to be one of them." Damian wrapped a possessive arm around the teen, pulling Danny into his side as he surveyed the apartment complex in front of them. "Are you sure that this is the place?" He asked, turning to shoot a look at Jason.

"Yeah, I'm sure, brat." He started forward, holding the door open for them as they filed in. The man nodded to a woman with a baby stroller as he led them towards the elevator, earning a polite nod from the woman and an excited wave from the little boy strapped into it. Once on the lift, he clicked the button for the fourth floor. "It's owned by one Harold Treeny, a middle-aged man from Connecticut that inherited the building from his aunt. He's never visited, but puts a lot of money into maintaining it, yet he keeps the rent low for the people who live here, and gives leniency to single mom's and the elderly when it comes to late payments."

Damian shot him a look from the corner of his eye. "This Treeny wouldn't happen to be one of your aliases, would it Todd?" He asked, though it was obvious he already knew the answer.

Jason chuckled. "No, not one of mine. It's actually one of Roy's. He wanted a place to stay, should he ever need to crash in Gotham, and he just lets me use it when he's not here. Though, we have discussed letting it fall into the Red Hood's hands, just for a bit." He let the conversation drop as the elevator doors opened, giving a friendly wave to an elderly couple that shuffled into the elevator as they exited. It was only when they were safely in Apartment 405 that he picked it back up. "The gang activity in the area has started to uptick in the past couple of weeks, and he's a bit worried about this place being caught in the crossfire."

Damian turned away from him, inspecting the rest of the apartment now that his curiosity was sated. Jazz, however, frowned. Leaning on her brother's shoulders, she looked to him. "Are you sure it's a good idea to stay here, with that going on? What if something happens?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. The activity hasn't spread more than a block since the last time I checked it, and I have some of my men spread around to alert me should that change." Jason shot a comforting smile at her, but it did little to release the tension that had coulded in her at the mention of gang activity.

Thankfully, Jason wasn't the only one who had noticed the woman's discomfort. Danny pressed his shoulder back into her chest gently, drawing her attention. "Hey, don't worry so much. It's not like a couple guys with guns would be any match for your's truly." He puffed up his chest in an exaggerated way, preening visibly when his sister laughed at him.

"Okay, okay. I guess you have a point." She admitted, ruffling her brother's hair and snagging his bag's strap while he squawked in protest. Darting gracefully out of her brother's reach, she gently sat the bag down on the coffee table before turning back around. "Okay! I don't know about you boys, but I for one think we could all do with some food." She looked around the room, clearly waiting for their responses.

"You still have an appetite after that harrowing experience?" Jason joked, barely flinching as Danny elbowed him.

"My driving was perfectly fine!" The teen protested, a pout forming as he crossed his arms.

"You drove over four different speedbumps like they weren't there, hit several potholes, and almost snagged a manhole cover with your rear... tire." Jason listed off, taking a page out of Jazz's book and violently ruffling his hair. "I'd call that a harrowing experience for any normal person."

Danny pulled away from the man's overzealous hair ruining efforts, patting down the loose strands with very little success. Giving up, he turned and glared at Jason. "Since when have any of us been normal?" He gripes, tugging the hood of his borrowed hoodie over his head and tightening the strings a bit. Tossing one of the agglets into his mouth, he chewed on the plastic as he thought. "I could eat." He decided eventually with a shrug, plopping down on the thrifted couch with an appreciative sigh.

Damian settled down next to the teen with more grace, letting his arm rest beside his lap so that it occasionally brushed against Danny's leg. "Food does seem like a good idea," the vigilante agreed. Now everyone turned to Jason, as if waiting for his opinion.

Jason sighed, finally allowing himself to acknowledge the hunger he felt. He hadn't eaten since before patrol last night, and now that they were safe for the time being, his stomach let him know just how much it appreciated not being fed. "Alright, alright!" He tossed his hands up in mock exasperation. "I know a good Thai place just a block from here. They have decent vegan options," he answered before Damian could ask, "and the owners know me. We can place an order and have it ready by the time I get there." When no one protested, the man pulled out his phone and dialed the number, not bothering to ask before placing an order he usually gave for when the other Outlaws were in town. It had a bit of everything, and plenty of servings. Of course, they would be more likely to have leftovers after, but all that meant is that Jason might not have to cook for a bit.

----

Cass and Steph watched as Tim and Dick argued, their heads bouncing back and fourth between the two like it was a tennis match.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Dick asked, arms crossed and pout firmly on his face. It had been there since Tim had told him that he had already been looking into Danny, though they still didn't know the teen's actual name.

"I didn't say anything earlier because I thought it went without saying. We've seen this kid with Damian multiple times, you got punched by him!" Tim clutched his coffee mug close to his chest as he rambled, preventing Cass from slipping anything melatonin into it. Part if her was sure that, on some level, he had begun to suspect some sort of tampering.

...maybe it was time to brainstorm a new way of enforcing Alfred's healthy sleep schedule on her workaholic brother.

Cass was pulled from her thoughts by Steph's loud sigh of relief. Both Tim and Dick had left the room, probably headed to check whatever working file they had on Danny. "Man," Steph whined, stretching until her back popped slightly. "This is harder than I thought it would be. How have you not told them something super cryptic and usless yet?"

Cass smiled at the girl, standing as well to follow her to the kitchen. They both nodded at Alfred as Steph began to dig for snacks. Cass leaned against the counter, accepting the oatmeal cookie Alfred handed her gratefully.

"It is tempting." Cass admitted, biting down on the award winning pastry. "But Damian needs this." Her littlest brother was always so prim and proper, when not being serious and focused. It was good for him to let loose a bit, and expand his social circle past Jon Kent and Skylar from his art club.

"Your right," Steph pulled her head out of the fridge. "He does need to let loose once in a while." Diving back in, she made an "aha!" noise as she pulled out a leftover slice of chocolate cake. Snack found, she started to search for a fork. "So, how do we distract them?" She asked.

"Melatonin works well for Tim." She admitted quietly. "But Dick will be harder to distract."

"Hmm," Steph took a minute to think about it, slowly chewing. "Oh! I've got it!" An devious smirk worked its way onto her face as she gestured Cass closer, whispering her plan. When Cass pulled back, she had a thoughtfully look on her face.

"That could work." She agreed, a similar smirk appearing on her face. Behind them, Alfred shook his head fondly before going back to his prepwork for dinner. As long as things didn't get too out of hand, the man was content to let the girls have free reign. After all, he too agreed that Master Damian needed this break.

---

(I know there are probably some grammar/spelling mistakes, but it's okay because I tried my best!)

For the amazing person who made the prompt for this story, and the awesome people who follow along!

@halfblackwolfdemon @manapeer @xxwintrynightzxx @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @blu-lilac @academicpurposes @secretdestinywerewolf @passivedecept @naluforever3 @postit-nope @spiteismymiddlename @2t-productions @plague-daisy @feet-achy @bubblecookies16 @thesapphiredragon13 @justwannabecat @magicalcollecter @adeniumdream @amuseofminds @lupagrim @readerkayden @dr-syko-pharm-4 @ladythugs @angelheartgamer @markthespot68 @kyrianclawraith @michikoy-yuki @servasvictoria02 @your-emo-nightmare @vala-dreams @scarlett-green-rose @t1dwarrior-of-earth @charlie-the-frogie @akikoyuii @mysticalcomputerdetective @roseuniverse999 @im-totally-not-an-alien @thefearfullone @weird-droplet-309 @jaytriesstuff @raventao @jacquelynwinchester @dragongoblet @tlise21 @longlivethefallen @the-archer-goddess @temple-of-jalebi @adepresseddwightsblogofjunk @plainly-colorful @the-legalHe-shipper @49saltpeppershakers @igotafewbadideas @tumbling-darkling @sparklygardenbouquet @sarcastic-yami @blueneko9314 @starscreamlover @liedboutmurder @do3y @roze-realm @some-mildly-happy-human @yinari-uchiha @azuera @chaoticmistake @altairsarts @kawaiikenna @heartsong18 @thetoyboxs @tricksovertreats @mnemovoid @lim4b3ans @horribly-lost-and-gay @keimiwolf @dryeraseslime @joey394

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years ago

Text

As Long As You’re Mine - Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Inspired by As Long As You’re Mine from Wicked

Summary: Mob life can be full of outdated traditions so you try to cling on your freedoms for as long as possible

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Mob Elements! Forced Arranged Marriage! Language! Mention of guns! Mention of Drugs! Language! Brief SMUT 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Sitting in the large sunroom you let out a long sigh staring out at the large garden sprawling out in front of you. This was the first time you felt peace in weeks. Ever since the sudden passing of your father, life had been turned upside down, your brother stepping into a role he’d not been expecting to take for decades.

“Your brother wants to talk to you” Romero stated behind you.

“Where?” You ask not looking away from the fountain outside.

“His office” Romero answers.

“You mean my father’s office” you mutter barely glancing over your shoulder.

“Yes miss,” Romero says.

“Fine” you sigh pushing yourself up from your chair.

Walking out of the sunroom you held your head up as you passed the various guards that now stood around the house. With your family and its business in a weakened state following the death of your father, the extra guards were needed, not only for protection but as a demonstration of strength.

“You requested my presence?” You state walking into the office not even bothering to knock.

Your brother looks up with an irritated look on his face. A man you didn’t recognise stood to the side, his brow arched as he studied you. Normally you completely ignored strangers, especially ones clearly involved in the family business. But this man had a gravitational pull that had you glancing over at him.

The first thing you noticed was his piercing blue eyes that despite the cool colour, hid some warmth. He had long rugged blonde hair and a beard to match, which did nothing to hide his pink plump lips.

“Sit down” your brother directed, pulling your attention away from the stranger, gesturing to the chair opposite the desk.

“What do you want Bryce, you know I don’t enjoy being in here” you state as you sit down, leaning back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other.

“This is Steve,” Bryce says waving over to the stranger “he’s your personal bodyguard, you’re not to leave his sight”

“What?” You snap sitting up “you can’t be serious I don’t need a babysitter”

“Are the guards outside not a reminder of our precarious situation right now?” Bryce bites back “since I have no wife, and no desire for one either, you are who all our enemies are going to go after”

You scoff shaking your head “oh this is ridiculous!”

“It’s only temporary, I’m sure you’re new husband will have his own bodyguards to look after you” Bryce sighs waving his hand as he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” You choked out, you had no new husband, you had no one.

“It was father’s dying wish to have you married off well, merge our family with another strengthening us” Bryce explains.

“So I get no say in the matter?” You state in disbelief.

“Don’t worry I’ll pick someone mutually beneficial” Bryce mutter noncommittally.

You scoff “this is bullshit! I thought you’d be different to father” you spit at your brother.

As you stormed out of the office you heard heavy footsteps following after you. Whipping around you come face to face with Steve.

“Fuck off” you growl pointing up at him in warning.

A warning that fell on deaf ears as you heard Steve following behind you the entire way to your bedroom. As you stormed inside you went to slam the door in his face but he easily caught it with his large hand.

“Do I not get the privacy of my own room” you question your voice sharp.

“Yes, but I need to conduct a sweep, see what I’m working with entrance and exit wise” Steve reasons, his voice level, face expressionless “You’re most likely to be killed or taken in the safety of your room, that chance will be lowered if I know what I’m dealing with, I’ll be quick” he adds when you don’t budge.

You let out an annoyed huff but step aside letting him into your room. You stood to the side, arms crossed as you watched him walk around your bedroom. He poked his head into your closet and bathroom, looked behind your curtains and tapped against your windows.

“They’re bulletproof” you state “are you done now? I want to relax”

“Yes, but we should limit the amount of time you’re alone to the night” Steve states still looking around your room.

“Well I want a shower and I doubt my brother will take you loitering around very well” you warn, narrowing your eyes at him condescendingly.

“Fine but as soon as you’re decent we should go back downstairs” Steve states looking back over at you.

“Whatever just fuck off already” you scoff waving him off as your turned and walked into your bathroom.

You waited until you heard your bedroom door close before reaching in and turning on your shower. But you didn’t get in, instead, you left it running as you slipped back into your bedroom. You grabbed a book from your bookcase and settled down on your bed to relax for the next few hours until you wanted to leave.

“I want to go outside” you huff in frustration glaring up at Steve.

“And I told you there was a perimeter breach last night, you’re to stay inside until everything is secure” Steve states his distractingly large arms crossed over his chest.

“This is ridiculous! I can’t see my friends! I can’t have a minute of peace! I can’t even go into my own goddamn garden to enjoy the nice weather!” You exclaim gesturing wildly.

Steve lets out a long sigh “how about a compromise”

That caught your attention, your brow arching questionably “what kind of compromise”

“Give me half an hour to ensure the surrounding area is secure and you can relax in the sunroom, enjoy the sunshine in there” Steve offers, his tone much more gentle than before.

You mimic his stance, studying him for a moment “fine” you agree.

“Okay, wait here with Romero I’ll get you once it’s secured,” Steve says nodding over to Romero before turning and walking away.

You let out a long sigh as you sat down, setting the satchel you were carrying down. You rested your chin in your palm as you waited for Steve to return, staring up at the large portrait of your father above the mantlepiece.

“Prick” you muttered under your breath, glaring up at his portrait.

It was his wish that landed you in this situation. Growing up Bryce had been different, when your father died you hoped that you’d be free from an arranged marriage. Yet even in death, his stupid ideals were haunting you.

You hadn’t realised how long you’d be stewing until Steve walked back in “the sunroom is secure” he states gesturing towards the door.

You nodded in acknowledgement, grabbing your satchel and walking out towards the sunroom without a word. You settled down in the large wicker chair in the corner, leaning back and basking in the sunlight, your eyes closing.

The sound of shuffling behind you had you peeking your eye open, glancing over your shoulder to see Steve standing in the far corner. He was always standing, you weren’t sure if he’d ever sat down in your presence. He didn’t seem bothered by it but his feet must be sore.

“You can sit down you know?” You tell him closing your eyes again.

“I’m fine,” Steve says but you heard him shuffling again.

“I can hear you shifting your weight, I’m your boss and I'm telling you to sit down” you state shifting so you were more comfortable.

You heard a tiny huff of a laugh “your brother is my boss” he points out.

“Exactly you’re employed by my family and I’m telling you to sit,” you tell him.

For a minute you didn’t hear anything, but then you heard footsteps, the sound of a chair moving and a quiet sigh as Steve sat down.

You peeked open an eye, smirking to yourself when you saw his unguarded relaxed face “better?” You ask.

Steve just lets out a noncommittal him.

“So where are you from Steve?” You ask opening your eyes as you look over at him.

Steve arches a brow, a surprised look on his face “you’ve changed your tune”

You just shrug your shoulders “I can’t seem to get rid of you so may as well get to know you”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches upwards “Brooklyn” he says answering your previous question.

“Oh,” you hum in surprise “What’s the mob scene like there? Just as backwards and twisted as the Boston scene?”

Steve sighs leaning back in his seat “it’s different, the NYPD cracked down on mobs pretty hard so they have evolved” he says.

You tilt your head in confusion “evolved?” You question.

“They’re not families anymore, it's one big syndicate, all run by one guy but nobody knows who they are” Steve explains.

“So you never worked for him? Met him?” You ask, Steve just shook his head in answer.

“I’d love to live in New York” you sigh looking out of the window.

“Really?” Steve asked surprised “you don’t get views like this in New York,” he says nodding to the garden.

“No” you admit “but it's full of life, and bright colours, I visited a few years ago and I felt at home”

“It is a pretty amazing place” Steve hums.

“Do you miss it?” You ask looking over at him.

“Yeah” he nods with a small smile.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to leave the door’s over there,” you say pointing to the door behind you.

Steve lets out a warm laugh, one that made your heart skip a beat “you can’t get rid of me that easily” he smirks.

You let out a long and loud disappointed sigh that makes Steve chuckle gently. As silence falls in the room once more you sit forward, opening up your satchel to grab your sketch pad and pencil.

“You draw?” You heard Steve ask.

You hum nodding your head “it's one of the few skills my father made me learn that I actually enjoy” you explain as you sharpen your pencil.

“You don’t speak highly of him” Steve points out.

You let out a snort of laughter, as you begin to sketch “there isn’t much to speak of, at least not positive”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

You let out a long sigh “he was traditional in every sense of the word, but not in a good way” you explain keeping your eyes on the sketch of a flower you were drawing “my and my brother were to be seen and not heard, he paid us no attention at least not until Bryce was old enough to be groomed as a mob leader”

“What about your mother?” Steve asks brows furrowed slightly.

“He didn’t love her, it was an arranged married so he just saw her as someone to give him an heir” you sigh before shrugging your shoulders “she died when I was 12, she’d always try to give me the life she never got, give me some freedom but it was impossible, I knew I’d end up exactly like her, nothing more than a prized piece of meat for breeding,” you say spitting out the last part in disgust.

Steve remains silent to the point that you glance over at him, seeing a hint of concern and sympathy in his eyes.

“When my father died I thought I was free, Bryce always tried to fight for me growing up so I thought I’d be able to go live my life, find and choose who I wanted to spend my life with myself, but I guess I didn’t realise how much my father had poisoned Bryce” you continue shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly.

You let out a small huff “it’s alright, not like you can do anything about it”

Steve hums, neither of you saying anything for a moment “who’s your favourite artist?” Steve asks nodding to your sketch.

A smile tugs at your lips at the change of topic “I don’t know, Van Gogh maybe or Frida Kahlo?” You say shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve always found Picasso interesting, even though his style is very different to mine” Steve admits.

“You paint?” You ask surprised.

Steve smiles gently nodding his head “I prefer sketching but yes”

Without a second thought you reach into your satchel and pull out another sketch pad and pencil “Sketch with me” you say holding out the supplies.

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise for a second before a smile tugs at his lips, reaching out to take the sketchbook from you. You smile back at him, pretending to return your attention back to your own sketch but you instead were watching how Steve reclined back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other to rest his sketchbook against his knee. The look of relaxed concentration on his face as he put the first couple of strokes against the paper.

For hours you and Steve sat in silence sketching, the only noise being the sound being pencils against the paper. You didn’t even stop for food, instead having dinner brought to you in the sunroom.

“What would you do? If you could do what you want? Would you leave mob life” Steve asks after hours of silence.

“No, I’d be wrong to say it doesn’t have its perks, and only people in this life would understand, I just would want more choice and freedom, find someone where I’m an equal not just a bride” you explain with a gentle smile.

There was a beat of silence before Steve closed his sketchbook, standing up from his chair “it's getting late, you should get some sleep” he says holding out the sketchbook for you to take back.

“Keep it,” you say standing up, and packing away your own sketchbook and pencils.

“I’ll bring my own next time,” Steve says reaching out to slide the sketchbook into your bag.

You bit back a smile as you nodded, turning to walk out towards your room. Steve followed a couple of paces behind as always.

“Goodnight Steve” you smile turning back to face him once you reached your room.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says warmly, his head dipping slightly.

You give him one last smile before slipping inside your room. Walking over to your bed you put down your satchel and began to unpack it, putting your supplies away. When you pulled out the sketchbook you have given Steve, curiosity won out as you opened it up to see what he’d drawn. Your breath caught when you saw it was a portrait of you.

A couple of weeks later you were woken in the middle of the night by shouting and loud cracking noises. Sitting up you realised the sound was coming from outside. You had only just reached the window, poking your head through the curtains when your door swung open.

“Get away from the window!” Steve shouted, his chest heaving.

Your head snapped in his direction “what?” You ask in confusion.

Steve didn’t say anything he just ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you, one large hand placed securely on the back of your head. He then twists into a crouch, covering you with his body as you hard a loud crack against your window. You let out a screech at the sound, finally realising the cracking noises outside were gunfire.

“You okay?” Steve asks pulling back enough for his eyes to scan over your body.

You quickly nod, your eyes wide as you stared up at him in shock “wha-what’s happening?”

“The house is under attack, looks like Hansen, we need to get you out of here,” Steve says repositioning you so you were still covered but on your feet.

You just nod allowing him to guide you out of the room. He kept you both in a crouched position, his arm around you, hand on the back of your head. He leads you out of your room, down the corridor and into a safe room.

To anyone else, it just looked like a closet, but you knew of the reinforced locks. Bulletproof walls and door.

Steve led you over to a plush chair in the corner, carefully setting you down before returning his attention back to the locked door. His hand on his gun ready to fire at a moment's notice.

You curled up in the chair, your knees brought up to your chest. You were shivering, not only from the cold since you only wore silk shorts and a vest, but also as the adrenaline left your body.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at you when he heard you move, his brows furrowing for a second before he shrugged off his jacket.

“Here,” he says offering you his jacket.

When you don’t move he steps closer, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders. He then crouched down in front of you, gently tugging the jacket around you.

“You’re safe, it’s gonna be okay” he reassured you gently, his large hand brushing over your head soothingly.

“Thank you” you whispered.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, it’s okay,” Steve says softly, his hand slipping into yours, the reassuring squeeze he gave providing more warmth than his jacket.

You could only manage a small nod of your head, Steve gave you another smile as he stands back up. Putting himself back on guard duty.

What felt like hours passed until you heard a knocking on the door. Both you and Steve went on guard, Steve pulling out his gun as he stood with his back to the wall. He gestures for you to hide behind your chair with his free g huff hand, waiting until you were crouched behind your chair before unlocking the door. He opens it a crack, only enough to see out.

“Clear?” He asks.

“Clear” you hear Bryce confirm “is she safe?”

Steve puts his gun away as he opens the door enough for Bryce to step in “shaken but fine”

You stand up from your hiding space, your breath catching when you saw Bryce’s busted lip and black eye “Bryce” you gasped.

“It’s nothing you should see the other guy” Bryce waves off with a small smirk, crossing the room and sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Did Hansen show?” Steve asks hands on his hips.

“No, just his goons but we’ve taken one for interrogation, find out exactly what his motives were” Bryce sighs cracking his knuckles.

“It was probably a test run to see how weak you are, so when they hit again they know where to strike” Steve answers

“Shit” Bryce mutters “I need to secure a deal soon,” he says glancing over at you.

“What if that’s what this is all about?” You argue, Steve glancing over at you with a brow arched “Hansen’s a hitman by trade, what if he’s been hired to spook you into closing a deal sooner, one that doesn’t actually benefit you”

Bryce scoffs and shakes his head at the idea but Steve speaks up “it's a possibility, one I wouldn’t rule out even if it is a slim chance”

“Whatever” Bryce mutters pushing himself up from his chair “Your room is compromised so until it's secure again you’ll be sleeping in mother’s old room”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You hadn’t stepped foot in your mother’s room since the week of her death. The last time you’d completely broken down.

“Bryce no…” you start, your voice wobbling but he was already out the door.

You look over at Steve to see him already looking back at you with a concerned look in his eyes “I’ll make sure you’re room is secure as soon as possible”

You swallow the lump of emotion, wrapping your arms around yourself. You gave him a quick nod before quietly walking out the door towards your mother’s room.

Steve walked a few paces behind you as always but when you froze in front of the door, he stopped much closer than he’s ever done before.

“I’ll need to conduct a sweep,” Steve says quietly.

You nod but don’t move. Steve instead placed a hand on the small of your back, reaching around you to open the door. A blast of cold air hit you, but you weren’t sure if you just imagined it. Steve gently guided you inside, closing the door behind you.

As he stepped away to start his sweep a chill entered your body. You hugged yourself tighter as you began to shiver, stepping back until your back hit the wall behind you.

“All clear, get some rest it's been a long night,” Steve says turning back to you.

As he began walking towards the door it felt like you couldn’t breathe “wait” you managed to gasp.

Steve haltered looking over at you in concern “what’s wrong? He asks taking a step towards you.

“I-I can’t stay here I just can’t” you whisper tears spilling from your eyes.

Steve’s face falls as he walks over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders “I understand but it’s not safe anywhere else” he says gently.

“Please” you beg.

You see the conflicted look on his face “sweetheart” he whispered “it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe”

“I can’t Steve” you cry shaking your head “I can’t sleep in the same bed she died in”

Steve lets out a long sigh “okay how about a compromise?” He offers “stay here, but we’ll sleep on the floor”

“We?” You mutter in confusion.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Steve said gently, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears “unless you want to be alone?”

“No, no,” you say quickly “Please don’t leave me”

“I won’t, now why don’t you go freshen up while I get everything sorted” Steve promised.

You nod sniffing back your tears, shooting Steve a grateful look as you step away towards the bathroom.

By the time you re-emerged, Steve had created a bed for you on the floor. Made up of pillows blankets and your duvet from your room.

“I sent Romero to get them, thought it would make you more comfortable,” Steve says answering your silent question.

“Thank you Steve, it means a lot” you smile gracefully.

You walk over and settle down in your makeshift bed. Of course, it wasn’t as comfortable as your actual bed, but it was familiar and if you closed your eyes you could pretend you were back in your room. As you lay down Steve walked away to go sit in a nearby chair.

“Aren’t you sleeping?” You ask him.

“No, just in case Hansen decides to strike twice in one night,” Steve says turning around to face you.

“Can you sit with me?” You ask looking up at him hopefully.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he walks back towards you. He sits down in beside you, back leaning against the wall.

“Get some rest” Steve orders gently.

You smile up at him, reaching out to take his hand “thank you Steve, for everything” you whisper before letting yourself fall asleep, still holding onto his hand.

When you woke the following morning you were somewhat surprised to find you’d moved in your sleep. You’d dropped Steve’s hand, but instead you now had your head in his lap. His hand was now also resting on your waist, thumb absentmindedly moving back and forth.

“Mornin’” Steve murmured, “sleep well?”

You shift so you could look up at him. As you did so you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw him giving you a warm and lazy smile. The memories of last night flashed through your mind, not of the sound of bullets and your brother’s beaten face, but of how Steve looked after you, called you sweetheart. In that moment you couldn’t deny the blossoming feelings you’d been denying the past couple of months.

You sit up, turning to face him. Your eyes roam his face for a moment, while his remains on yours. Your steady hand reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his thick beard. Before you could convince yourself this was a bad idea, you leant in, your lips brushing against his.

“Sweetheart” Steve whispered his voice pained “last night was a lot, you can’t be thinking straight”

“I am, I promise” you mutter, forehead pressed against his “I’ve thought this since I met you” you admit.

Steve doesn’t say or do anything for a moment, long enough that you started to pull back. But then he gripped your lips pulling you to straddle his lap, his lips crashing against yours. You hum appreciatively against his lips, completely melting into his embrace.

“Bryce can’t know” you warn “it doesn’t matter you’re twice his size, he’ll kill you if he finds out”

“I can handle myself sweetheart” Steve promises, his fingers gently brushing some hair behind your ear.

“Steve,” you say pleadingly “I can talk him out of this marriage crap, find other ways to build alliances and then we can be free”

Steve nods cupping your cheek and bringing your lips back to his “I trust you doll” he murmured against your lips.

From that day onwards you and Steve were more inseparable than you were before. Every day he kept you company and kept you safe. Every night he loved you, held you close and made you feel safe in a completely different way.

Every day you also made time to talk to Bryce, trying to convince him that marriage was not the only way to build alliances. You suggested multiple different ways and it looked like he was beginning to cave and consider it.

That was until he called you into his office.

“I thought you’d want to hear this news alone,” Bryce said as you sat down putting you on guard immediately.

“What news?” You question.

“I’ve finally managed to secure you a match, you’ll be marrying Ransom Drysdale” Bryce states.

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaim.

“I’m perfectly serious, he’s the heir of the longest-standing mob families in Boston, you couldn’t find a better match,” Bryce says remaining completely calm.

“He’s an idiot! We could get a much better deal with Levinson or Barber without having to subject me to marriage!” You argue standing up from your chair.

“It was father’s wish” Bryce reminds you.

“To hell with him! He was a piece of shit and you know it” you shout pointing down at him.

“He gave us all of this!” Bryce finally snaps standing up and gesturing around.

“At what cost!” You screech in anger.

“This marriage is happening and you can’t change it! Backing out would only give Drysdale the ammunition to wipe us out! Do you want that? All of us dead because of your selfish actions” Bryce roared.

You flinched back, the memory of whenever your father yelled at you flashing in front of your eyes. You blink a couple of times as his words sink in. You had no choice, you had to go through with it. To protect everyone in this family, those who worked for you, for Steve.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Bryce breaths out a sigh of relief “good, I’m glad you’ve seen sense”

You just swallowed the lump in your throat nodding your head “I’m going to get an early night” you manage to croak out.

“Fine, I’ll see you later, I’m going out for the night,” Bryce says slipping on his jacket, opening one of the desk drawers and pulling out a small bag of white powder and slipping it into his pocket.

“Have a nice night, don’t do anything stupid” you tell him quietly.

“Now where’s the fun in that” Bryce smirks walking over to you “see you tomorrow” he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head before walking out of the office.

You breathe out a shaky breath, quickly wiping away a stray tear before walking out of the office. You head straight to your bedroom, walking as quickly as you could, feeling the wave of emotion threatening to crash down over you.

When you spot Steve standing outside your bedroom you broke down. A sob escaped your lips as your hand covered your mouth. Steve’s face fell as he rushed over, arm wrapped around your shoulders quickly guiding you into your room.

He gets you to sit on your bed, cupping your cheeks as he crouched down in front of you “sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I tried, I really tried but you couldn’t stop it but I can’t” you sobbed shaking your head.

Steve sighed knowingly exactly what you meant “we can work something out sweetheart” Steve reassures you.

“No-no we can’t, because he chose Drysdale and nothing can stop him when he sets his mind to something, and if I run or back out he’ll kill everyone here, he’ll kill you” you explain shaking your head, Steve opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt “and don’t say you can handle yourself because you can’t not against him” you sigh.

Steve just sighed leaning forward to press his forehead against yours “I’m sorry” he whispered.

“I’m just so pissed, I thought I’d gotten Bryce to change his mind, but he still went ahead and picked Drysdale, the worst option possible” you state shaking your head “I don’t care if he’s the heir of the longest standing mob family in Boston, he’s reckless one step away from getting caught by the FBI, or he’ll blow every dollar they’ve earnt! Barber or Levinson would have been better options! And I wouldn’t have had to marry either of them” you say breaking down again.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry” Steve sighed cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t want to lose you” you whimper shaking your head.

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either” Steve whispers pressing kisses to your forehead.

“I just don’t know what to do” you mutter your eyes meeting his.

“What can I do?” Steve asks quietly.

“Just hold me, kiss me, just make this moment where you’re mine last forever” you plead.

Steve looked at you sadly but nodded. He kissed away your tears, before kissing you deeply. His hand rested on your hip guiding you back onto the bed and laying you down gently.

Your back arched when his lips travelled across your jawline and down your neck. His hand gripped your hip tightly, normally he was always so gentle but tonight you welcomed his rougher side. Because it reminded you that he was actually here, it gave you something to hold onto.

You held onto him tightly with every thrust home he made. You clung to every bruising kiss he gave you. You wished that every mark he made lasted a lifetime so you could remember this moment forever.

Once you both found your highs Steve held onto tightly. He kissed away the tears you hadn’t realised you’d shed. He muttered sweet nothings into your ears, reassuring you everything would be okay.

He swore that you’d be okay. You wanted to believe him, but you couldn’t because you knew it wasn’t true. You were about to be trapped into a loveless marriage, forced to produce an heir. All while knowing the man you truly loved was out there, out of your reach. A love that burnt bright, but far too short.

“I love you Steve” you whispered looking up at him, tears in your eyes.

“I love you too” Steve muttered, cupping your cheek and kissing you deeply.

That night after you’d fallen asleep Steve slipped out of the bed. He silently crept towards the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light so he wouldn’t accidentally wake you.

Closing the door behind him, he walked to the far corner and pulled out his phone. Staring down at the screen he wondered whether he was brainless or wise for what he was considering.

Glancing back towards the door, where you lay only a few feet away, he knew what he had to do. He had to fix this problem and nothing was going to stop him.

He dialled the number he needed, the line connecting after only a couple of rings.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky questioned.

“There’s been a change of plans, forget the Langleys, we’re taking down Drysdale and the Thrombeys instead” Steve states keeping his voice low.

“What happened?” Bucky asks.

“I’ve just learnt that there’s bigger fish to fry, and maybe the Langleys would be a good ally” Steve shrugs.

Bucky chuckles down the line “you fell for the girl didn’t you?”

Steve lets out a long sigh, there was no lying to his childhood friend “yes, can I trust you to put the gears in motion? I’m gonna hang around a little longer before heading back to New York”

“Not a problem boss” Bucky confirms.

“Good, how’s the rest of the syndicate?” Steve questions.

“Blissfully unaware that the top boss isn’t even in the state” Bucky smirks.

“Just the way I like it, see you soon buck” Steve smiles.

“Later punk,” Bucky says before hanging up.

Walking back into the bedroom he paused by the bed, looking down and watching you sleep. He was going to set you free.

Steve had never met Drysdale, but the trust fund prick had just made a deadly enemy. Because nobody took what the leader of the New York syndicate wanted and lived to tell the tale.

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