#I'd lose it too i understand him

[flysafepapi]

I just need to know exactly how much Armand knew about the hallucinations of Lestat, because he didn't seem surprised to hear about it when Louis was telling Daniel about it, but it didn't say exactly when he found out about it, only the few times when it showed Armand in the flashbacks knowing that Louis was seeing them, but he never outright said that he knew it was happening, and they don't have the barrier of not being able to communicate telepathically

What I'm saying is where is the scene of Armand absolutely losing it in his office at the theatre like "Oh my GOD I'm never going to escape this french bitch, now I'm competing with him AND the imaginary version of him, give me a fucking break please"

I need it.

[strawberrycamel]

ninjago seabound hurts. so much. what the fuck

[sskk-manifesto]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[omarwolaeth]

I know the spider scene in Arc V, the one where Yuugo and Rin hug in a dimly lit room, is supposed to echo the idea that Yuugo (as a shard of Zarc - represented as spider) is a bad influence on Rin (as a shard of Ray - represented by a butterfly), but I swear the spider is more likely Ray.

Ray with her 8 limbs of various dimensions and some 8 eyes of various dimensions, who weaves thread (people) into webs (new realities/dimensions) for her prey (Zarc) to get caught on so she can eat them (trapped in so she can play warden on his soul shards)

And Zarc, a butterfly, who gets trapped (Yuuya, Yuuto, and Yuugo all have exceedingly close relations with their respective parts of Ray) But unlike the butterfly (trapped and eaten) he escapes - and gets eaten (forcibly split off from his body and stuffed in next to Reira's soul as to recage him) anyway.

Correction: got the "what the scene is supposed to be doing" wrong and didn't notice. It is actually Yuugo getting led into a trap that nearly gets him killed, because Rin has the parasite in her head by that point. Ty Blastthechaos for correcting me on that 'v';; I really don't like the brainwashing section of Arc V so it doesn't surprise me that I got this wrong.

[mrfoox]

I'm going to struggle to sleep and get up tomorrow

Curse it all

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

the bore next door (j.ww)

Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. 

or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.

ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do. 

WORDCOUNT― 8.8k

PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader

CONTENT― strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, reader is a teacher but this is not a school setting, mocking and making fun, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky wonwoo, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed

WARNINGS― small mention of other teachers cheating on their spouses (very tiny mention), the resistance of pressure to fall in love/have children

NOTE― I repurposed an old wip for this because putting this mf in the main role hit harder than it should have. that being said, don’t expect me to write men often like this, i just thought it would be neat to make him take control. this is not proof read.

smut tags under cut:: 

Keep reading

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[suiana]

(yandere! vampire groom x gn! reader)

He just wanted you forever. Was that too much to ask for?

"I don't understand why you're being difficult. I thought you loved me."

You were a human, he was a vampire. You were destined to live a much shorter life than he is. In fact, he's already lived way longer than you have. 500 years without you. 500 years without having a meaning in life.

And now he's found you.

How could you be so cruel to deny both you and him eternal happiness? To take away the very reason he's willing to live?

"Why would you resist heaven's grasp? This is our fate, to be forever together. You know it."

His sharp nails grip your arms, eyes narrowing at you as he tries to convince you into seeing his point of view. He really just wants to shake you until you give in, but he probably will achieve the opposite if he does so.

"Come on, a human life is pathetic. You can barely live a hundred years. I am not seeing my spouse wither away in front of my eyes."

Your vampire groom's tone turns desperate as he grips the sleeves of your wedding outfit. You look absolutely beautiful, he thinks. All dressed up like the angel you are.

You'll look even more beautiful when you're turned.

"Why are you so hesitant to be a vampire? Surely being human is not that important to you."

But it is. He knows that. You've told him multiple times already. That you don't want to live forever, to see all your friends and family die in front of your eyes.

His eyes narrow slightly as you remain silent. He leans in even closer, face stern as if challenging you to speak back.

"Come on, is being human more important than being with me?"

"I- and if I say yes?"

The vampire's jaw locks at your answer as his grip on your upper arms tighten ever so painfully. Wrong answer. He didn't like that response of yours at all.

"You'd let me watch you die? You're cruel, you know that?"

He spits in your face as he pushes you against fhe church pew. The candles around you burn bright, their wax dripping to the cold floor of the church.

If you squint hard enough, you'd see a hint of fear in his cold eyes. Fear of losing you. Fear of you dying . Fear of you being ripped away from his embrace.

"But you should respect my choice-"

"And watch you die?! When it could all be prevented?!"

His voice is shrill, eyes widening in a mixture of anger. You wonder if you've ever seen him like this before. Seen him this angry and fearful, or this desperate and annoyed. He's always put you before him. Never asked you for anything but your love.

"Come on my love... You're not seriously dead set on staying human, are you? You'd be so beautiful as a vampire too. I'd let you drink from me and we'd be together forever!"

His grip on your arms grows tight before he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. You remain silent, unmoving, rooted in your place. You didn't want to say anything. You know anthing you say will only anger him further anyway. He's so dead-set on turning you.

You'll reject him every step of the way though.

"I said no... Can't you just-"

"No. You're being selfish."

His words cause you to pause and think. You? Selfish? Well...

"Can't I have at least one thing? I deserve it. I deserve you."

You feel his lips touch the softness of your skin, his teeth threatening to pierce you. Instinctively, you try to push him away. No way! Was he actually trying to turn you into a vampire right now?

Your beloved groom merely holds your wrists down before nipping at your neck. Wait wait wait! Just hold on a moment-

"If you can't see it on your own... It is my duty to help you see it."

You lock eyes with your vampire groom, blood running cold as he slips a ring onto your finger.

"After all, I belong to you now, as you belong to me. In life and in death."

You feel a surging pain in your body as his teeth sink into your flesh. It's not like the bites he uses when he feeds, no. This time, it's clear he's doing it to lock you with him for eternity. To keep you with him.

"I am your husband now, my love."

Yours, forever and now.

Just like you are his, forever and now.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.

NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.

I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.

The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.

Because it's so hard to exist in this world.

My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:

Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)

Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.

Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.

Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.

Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.

Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s

I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.

So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".

Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)

Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.

If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.

NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD

Stigma in the DSM

Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)

"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."

(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)

[blockedbykei]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐖

🏐— tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: he hates your intelligence in classrooms and you hate his cunnigness at the court. both go at great lengths to defeat each other, but how is it that both of you were the only ones that can help each other be better?

— warnings: swearing, a bit suggestive, enemies to lovers (although kind of enemies)

You slam your paper on his desk.

Tsukishima barely flinches. He removes his headphones and hangs them on his neck, unbothered by your looming presence as he stares blankly at your paper. 96

The corners of his lips tug down, seemingly unimpressed. "Eh."

"Eh? Aw, is little Tsukishima disappointed at himself?"

He looks up at you, stares deeply into your eyes. And for a moment you'd think his domineering gaze would soften as he was overawed by you. But then he smiles, that annoying little shitty, narcissistic smile.

"Actually, not at all (l/n)," his smile is bright, almost genuine, but his sarcasm is radiating. "I got a 98. Not bad, though!"

You swear steam was coming off your body.

"96 at modern Japanese." He says. "Understandable."

"Understandable?!"

"Don't beat yourself up, (l/n). Not everyone's perfect," he leans back. "Not even me. I mean, I'm just being humble. But yeah, not everyone."

"I hate you," you take your paper off his desk.

"Flattered. Really, really flattered. Thank you for hating me, actually. I feel so honored to be hated." He puts his headphones back on and places his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on his joint fists. Tsukishima smiles at you again.

God, his smile is infuriating.

Tsukishima was someone you'd go to great lengths to defeat. He never bothered for your existence when first year began. He didn't even know your name; Didn't even look at your direction. He'd only known it a month later when you were paired to be partners and he decided to be such a condescending brat when he pointed out your handwriting.

At first you ignored it, took it by heart and started organizing your writings on your notes. Then he decided to put all his self-hatred on you and started to discreetly judge you.

Maybe he wasn't even judging you. Maybe he was just staring at your paper, scoffed to himself, shook his head and laughed because you got a better score than him and he was berating himself. But no, he laughed because he thought you were a tryhard and he was a prodigy.

Obviously none of those were confirmed. But he's a man and a man hates it when a woman's happy.

When he smirks you have the urge to rip his lips to pieces.

You walk away from him and sit on your desk, which was actually beside him.

His scent follows your flaring nostrils as you carefully shove your paper between the notebooks in your bag. Tsukishima looks out the window, hiding his smirk, his foot tapping lightly but never making sound. So you put your own headphones over your ears, in hopes to drown out his deafening aura.

🏐 —

"Shit!"

Tsukishima's knees bends the wrong way and almost falls onto his back as he lands on the ground. The ball echoes across the court as it ricochets off the floor. You laugh loudly, and everyone looks at you.

"You're too advanced for the block, idiot!" You say loudly. Yamaguchi giggles.

He rolls his eyes at you as he chases for the ball. Kageyama sits beside you.

"You know he plays horribly when you're here."

"Oh?" You raise a brow. "Is he not used to a girl looking at her?"

Kageyama scratches his nose. "Probably 'cause he hates you."

You laugh lightly. "Kinda nice that I'm here. I get to see him fuck up."

Kageyama snorts. "He feels pressured 'cuz you're here."

"Oh? He said that?"

"No. But I can hear him think."

You laugh and wipe your sweat off. "I'd play with you guys, but his remarks could piss me off and I might, uh, shove that ball up his ass."

When Kageyama laughs again, quite loudly, Tsukishima's head snaps at the bench where you're sitting. Heat rises to his head, his stance losing its usual strength, his arms weakening as he watches you—

Laughing, at some joke you said or Tobio said. Laughing heartily like someone just made the best joke in the world. The way your lips almost reach the wrinkles beneath your eyes. Oh, that's so funny Tobio. You're so funny you should quit volleyball and be a stand up comedian!

He knows you're talking shit about him, too. Idiot. Brat. Showoff.

He had the right to show off. He was better than you.

He was the better thinker; the better scorer.

Tsukishima is better than you.

I'm better than you—

The ball hits the side of his face, his glasses flailing to the side.

The first thing that reaches his ears—your sickening laugh. That monstrous, sadistic guffaw. Tanaka yells from the other side of the court and dives beneath the net to take a look at his face. Nishinoya hovers, hands on his knees, laughing.

"Pay attention, dumbass!" You cuff your hands over your mouth. "Stop daydreaming! It's embarrassing."

He bends to pick his glasses up. Alive, no cracks, frame not broken. He puts it on the bridge of his nose so that he could see your face clearly.

Hideously alluring.

"Do you think of scheming as daydreaming, (l/n)?" his voice, full of disdain, though hidden through feigned sweetness. "Like a child as always. Go back to middle school?"

"Do better at volleyball?"

"I ought to kick the both of you out this court," Daichi says loudly. "Oh wait I can't speak to (l/n) like that. S-sorry!"

Tsukishima sneers, his lips frowning. He approaches the rolling ball, watching as it hits the wall and propells back towards his awaiting feet. When he picks it up, he steals another glance at you talking to Kageyama.

The King and the Brat. The most annoying combination in the entirety of Karasuno campus.

Somehow, seeing you next to Kageyama and being given the nickname as if the two of you were a pair sends a tight rope around his chest that causes it to ache a little. Tsukishima huffs it out, an unsettling in his bones.

Please don't look at me.

The ball flies into the air, and his palm raises just in time to make contact with the ball.

He sees you watch from the corner of his eye, a blurried silhouette, but your figure was familiar enough for him to recognize you. His heart beats a little louder.

🏐 —

No.

Shit. Fuck. No

God damnit. 74.

Tsukishima stares at his paper in horror. In his entire life, he has always gotten two digits on his scores. However, they had always been ninety onwards. Never in the line of sevens. He doesn't know if his horror is displayed across his face. He prays it doesn't—he would die if you saw his expression.

He leans sideways to the right, his eye darting towards the side to peak at your paper.

98.

The english language was something that was easy to learn but never easy in exams. This—despite boasting that english was the easiest subject—was his weakness.

You're too preoccupied to notice his existence. Good.

He turns around to look at the green haired boy.

"Yamaguchi." He whisper-yelled. "Tadashi."

Yamaguchi looks up. "Yes?"

This was it. Years of built up pride, intelligence, boosted ego— down the drain. As soon as he'd ask him the question, it would forever alter the image of himself towards his friend. Tsukishima was no longer the brainy four-eyes of the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

He would now be Tsukishima, the idiot four-eyes.

Maybe I'm overreacting.

He stands up and sits beside the empty chair next to Yamaguchi.

"How- What's your score?"

Yamaguchi looks puzzled as he glances at his paper. "E-eighty eight."

God, this is depressing.

"Um," Tsukishima scratches the back of his neck. "Could you help me with English?"

There it is. His face says it all.

"Don't you even—"

"You, Tsukishima Kei, asking for my help?" He laughs incredulously. "Are you sure? What's your score?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Aw, c'mon Tsukki." He pouts playfully like comforting a weeping baby. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Tsukishima tells him in a low voice. He never thought he could hate Yamaguchi's laugh. But he did, right after he laughed at his score. It wasn't even a failing grade.

"You know who should tutor you though?" He puts his paper in his bag. "(l/n). She's good, y'know. I heard her speak english once. I thought she was from, uh, some foreign country or something."

"She's not even that good." Tsukishima takes off his glasses and wipes it with the corner of his uniform. "She's good with memory but she forgets it right after the quiz like a ditz."

Yamaguchi snorts. "She's the one who got the best score out of all of us."

"Yeah, no thanks. I'd never let her teach me."

"I think you're forgetting I'm right here in front of you." You turn around, placing your elbow and forearm on the back of your chair and look at Tsukishima. "I can teach you."

Tsukishima scoffs. "No thanks. I'd rather repeat freshman year."

"Are you sure?" you pout, placing your chin on the back of your hand. "I can teach you, little Tsukishima."

"I'm not little."

"Yeah but your brain is."

"Yamaguchi, help me out here."

He can't ask for your help. Never ever. Never will he ever ask for your help. Tsukishima can study this himself. He's always studied by himself. He's never needed anyone, and certainly not you. He was independent, cunning as everyone says. Tsukishima does not need tutors.

Up until now.

"Please help Tsukishima study," Yamaguchi looks at you. "He's too prideful to ask but he really needs your help."

Tsukishima stammers. "T-that's not what I meant!"

"Aw, is this true?" You're taunting him. He feels like a child.

"I can study by myself. Fuck off."

You smile at him. In a way that he can't read. It was soft, almost kind, like you wanted to help him wholeheartedly and wanted his english to improve. Then he looked into your eyes and all the kindness in your smile had been washed away by this pity in your eyes that you enjoyed. Tsukishima huffs.

"No need to be shy about asking for help, little Tsukki," you coo. "We'll study in the locker room while everyone else plays. You're skipping practice today."

Tsukishima zips his bag and stands up. He towers over you, covering the sun that blinds you through the glass window. He looks down at your eyes—teasing, condescending eyes. His lips are turned to a frown, which makes you smile even more.

"I'm not skipping practice."

"Too bad. You are. You know, if you let me help you, you'd stop having that distraught face everytime you get your english paper." You take a step closer, neck bent backwards to look up at him. "Yeah, I saw your face."

Yamaguchi nudges his arm. "C'mon, Kei. Ask for her help. You know you need it. Don't be so prideful."

Tsukishima growls. He doesn't say anything yet, all the confidence in him washed away by a score that wasn't even a failing grade. His palm rubs the space between his eyebrows and mumbles:

"Help me."

You lean in, ear towards him. "Couldn't hear that. Sorry?"

"Help me study."

"Are you commanding me or asking?"

"Please help me study."

"Don't mumble, Tsukishima."

"Damn it!" He groans. "Please help me, dearest (l/n)." His voice drips in sarcasm, peering at you through his scratched lenses. "Help me get a better grade at english. Help me stop myself from strangling you! Idiot!"

You lean back, the bottom of your spine resting on your table as your left hand props you up. Tsukishima is almost seething, his eyes widened a little as his anger seethes through his nostrils. You hum, pretend to think, then slap his right cheek twice lightly.

"How kind of you to ask, little Tsukki." You wrinkle your nose at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "See you at the locker room."

When you leave, his head turns to Yamaguchi who smiles innocently. Tsukishima almost strangles him instead.

🏐—

The boys are thirty minutes late to practice. Including Daichi.

"It's the sequence of the words, Tsukishima," you point your pen at his test paper. "The spelling's no problem. You're good at it. It's just with how you've formed them together."

They all sit behind the two of you, watching silently. Tsukishima is red from embarrassment as he ignores them.

"What's so wrong about this sequence? It sounds correct."

"Just because it sounds correct doesn't mean that it is correct."

Hinata snorts. Tsukishima's head snaps at it. "Don't snort, dumbass. Last time I checked you got a twenty at your exam."

"You hit a nerve there, Shoyo," Kageyama giggles.

You sigh and slap your hands at your thighs. "Sawamura-san, why are you guys even here?"

He stammers, his back straightening as he fixes his bag on his left shoulder. "Jus–Just wanted to make sure you two will be fine. Let's go guys."

When they leave, Tsukishima relaxes in relief. He stares intensely at his notebook, figuring out the correct answer. You try not to laugh at him, but the sight was entertaining; seeing him suffer brought your heart at ease.

"Figured it out, moron?" You bring your own notebook out, flipping it to the last page you'd written on. "It's really not that hard."

"Shut up, (l/n.)" he says. You make a small sound, similar to "okay!" As you begin to write down on a blank page.

And you're like that for a few hours.

Tsukishima answers the questions you've written for him, and when he asks you for help, you cordially help him without telling him the answers. Then you both go back to formidable silence, doing your own perspective works.

He almost enjoys this newfound environment created with you. Somehow, his body is more tranquil, but at the same time his mind is racing, because you're here. Tutoring him. Tsukishima has always believed that he was one step ahead of you, making sure you were unable to catch up with him. But now he's slipped from that step and you've caught up and you're deriding him.

Nonetheless, you're his only hope right now.

He looks at you.

Your hair is tucked behind your ears and your teeth are currently creating dents at the eraser of your pencil. You're concentrating, seeming like you've forgotten that he's sitting in front of you. And Tsukishima's eyes are extremely blurred, but when he looks at you through the gap between his glasses and forehead, your face was somehow clearer.

"Are you a dog?" he raises a brow. "Don't chew on your pencil."

You huff like you're being scold and place your pencil down. But the chewing didn't last a second as your bottom lip is now tucked between your teeth. Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

"Here," he flips his paper and shows it to you. "Did I do it correctly?"

You take the paper from him and read it. He hopes you're at least slightly impressed, that you're not arbitrating his answers nor think they're half-assed. When your red pen moves into a slant, the corner of his lip twitches upwards. But when you circle the number, he has this urge to shove that pen into your eye.

"Hm, not bad. But not enough." you flip the paper.

70.

Four points less.

"Damn it." You can tell he's disappointed at himself. "You suck at teaching."

"Excuse me?!" Your eyebrows furrow. "Hey, I've spent the past four hours teaching you here, stickhead. The sun's almost down!"

"Do you have to go home already?" He asks. You shrug. "Then we can stay here until they're done with practice."

"Tsukishima, I have freshly cooked doburi waiting for me at home. Do you know what donburi is? Do you know what it tastes like while it's still hot? Fucking donburi, Tsukishima." You whine. "Would you like to study at my place instead?"

You seem to not have processed what you've offered, but Tsukishima has. He's surprised at your comment, watching you look so desperate to get home and eat that "fucking donburi." He waits for a moment until you realize and you do, but it seemed like you didn't care when you lean back and raise a brow.

"Well?"

"Sure."

His quick, almost unhesitant compliance surprises you. Tsukishima adjusts his glasses and brings his headphones out as you both head out the door. You lock it behind you, with Tsukishima already walking ahead.

You pass by the gym. "Sawamura, everyone, we're heading out!"

Tsukishima appears beside you. "We're going."

"To where?" Yamaguchi approaches you both. "Are you going to eat out? Ooh, can you bring food back here?"

"We're going to her place to study." He answers. "We can't come back."

The others seem to hear what he said, because Hinata yells: "What kind of studying are you going to do, Stingyshima?"

"Something that your tiny shit-for-brains can't comprehend." He retorts. "Focus on your receives, squirt!"

You wave to everyone and catch a glimpse of Yamaguchi's smile. You roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue out.

🏐 —

The way home was quieter than you expected.

Mainly because Tsukishima had his headphones on and all you hear was your un synchronous footsteps on the stoned sidewalk. You take small looks at your peripherals to see what he's doing. And, well, he's walking... like every other normal person.

But you're walking side by side and there's this space between you that's so close but also so far away. You feel his heat touching the fabric of your shirt, his hand twitching and just barely grazing yours. Then he speaks:

"You walk like a penguin," he says. "Why are you like that?"

"Why are you so annoying?" you roll your eyes. "I don't point out how you walk."

"That's because there's nothing wrong with my walk," he puts his headphones down, hangs them around his neck. "What? Got a stick up your ass or something?"

"I'll stab you with that stick."

"Gross."

You turn a corner and he follows suit like it was normal for him to follow you around. When you stop in front of your gate and unlock it, he bore no unhestiance as he removed his shoes and entered your home.

There was no one else around. And as soon as Tsukishima entered, you disappeared in his vision. Although, he hears you yell from afar: "Set your bag wherever. Stay in the living room though!"

He assumes you're either changing your clothes, getting a bowl of donburi, or both. He obeys, sets his bag on the floor and sits cross legged on the carpet of your living room, taking his notes out. He sees the sun inching away behind the roofs of the houses near by, waiting for you patiently.

And then his eyes roam to picture frames.

Never would he think that a picture of you smiling would be so endearing. That smile of yours, painting you an angelic aura, like people would never expect that you'd be the devil's descendant. Nonetheless, you were still beautiful.

The picture was you in a ponytail, face doused in sweat; the background, although blurry and dark, looked familiar. But Tsukishima was more focused on your gleaming smile, the way your eyes are almost closed and your lips were pale and your teeth were shiny.

"Hey, douchebag," you sit beside him despite the free space on the opposite of the coffee table, setting down two bowls of donburi. And yes, you had changed your clothes into something comfier. "Let's eat and study."

He never expected that you'd get him a bowl, thought that he'd have to ask or drop hints of him wanting donburi. He takes it though, and it is freshly cooked. He now understood your eagerness to go home.

An hour passes by.

The bowls are empty and set aside. Tsukishima's notes are scattered, hair disheveled from him constantly running his fingers through them. That string of hatred between you has been put aside as you both seem to tolerate one another through this session.

"Tsukishima," you say, almost sternly, placing two cartons of strawberry milk on the table. "It's easy to determine an adverb in Japanese. It's no different in identifying it in English."

"I know that, dumbass. What are you, a consciousness?" He takes his box, taking the plastic off the straw and shoving it on the circular foil. "Gimme yours."

He takes your carton and shakes it before doing the same and handing it to you. You blush vehemently, murmuring your gratitude and wrapping your lips around the paper straw.

Tsukishima's eyes wander out of boredom, tracing every corner and every ridge of your home. Until his eyes land on the sliding door to your backyard and catch a glimpse of that familiar blue and yellow ball.

"You play volleyball?" he queries, both his eyebrows raising.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Back in middle school."

"Bet you were shit at it."

"I was a middle blocker."

Tsukishima's back straightens, staring at you in hidden surprise. "At that height?"

"I'm not that short! Asshole," you throw your pen at him. He catches it with ease, setting it beside his notebook.

"Why aren't you in the women's volleyball club, then?" his brow raises. "Too short? They didn't take you? Failed the tryouts?"

You look down at your fingers, covered in peeled up skin and charred fingernails. You feel embarrassed, avoiding his eager stare. You sense his want to know your reason, radiating off his eyes.

"Not saying," you push yourself up, now standing in front of him. Tsukishima's eyes follow you, trailing uo from your thighs up to your neck, his irises darkening until he meets your gaze. "Get up. Time to go home."

"Let's play."

You stammer. "W-what? It's late."

"And I want to see you play." Tsukishima stands, hovering over you. "It's only nine in the evening."

You purse your lips, arms going limp on either side of your tired body. Though despite being worn out, you walk towards the door and slide it open, being greeted by Miyagi's brumal air that raises the hairs on your body. Tsukishima tugs on the sleeves of his sweater, covering half of his fingers, before following you out.

Barefoot in the evening, with the moon casting a pearlescent glow on your enervated bodies, the thump of the leather ball is in sync with your beating heart; and at each thump, it seems to wake Tsukishima up more.

"Tell me why you're not in the women's volleyball club," he sets it towards your direction.

"No." Your wrists join, your right fingers placing themselves on top of your left fingers, both thumbs settled side by side as your wrist ricochet the ball towards him. "It's none of your business."

Tsukishima catches it with ease. "You're lame."

You scoff, returning the ball. "I am not."

The blue and yellow ball floats into the evening air, the bright colors darkened by the stygian sky, only luminated by the moon and the lights outside your backyard. Tsukishima sets it to you again. "Listen, I don't really care about whatever your reason is. I just want to know."

You huff. There's no harm in telling your enemy a secret of yours, right? It's not like he was popular enough to go on and tell people. And like he said, he didn't care.

The ball comes in contact with your wrists. "I got injured. Well, not seriously injured. I can still play but I'm not as good as I used to be." Tsukishima catches the ball and rests it on his hip, listening to you explain. "I actually got a surgery at my calf."

You lift your pajamas just below your knee, showing the healed scar at the back of your calf. "The bone got dislocated 'cause one of my teammates smashed onto my leg when she was trying to save the ball. She got injured too, actually."

"Obviously," he retorts, now staring at your calf. Something about Tsukishima staring at your scar seemed too intimate as it should be, staring at your bare skin. His blonde hair drapes over his forehead, glasses glinting in the moonlight. "So where do you struggle?"

"Blocking. I can't jump properly." You scratch the back of your neck. "I can set though. Just, it's not in my heart."

"It's just a club," he says. "Play whatever position you want." Tsukishima sets the ball to you again.

"Just a club, huh?" You smirk. "Why'd you fail your test?"

"Because I was thinking too much of what I was gonna do when I'm at court again."

"And it's just a club."

"What's it to you?" He snaps. "At least I'm in the Volleyball club. Have I taken your dream?"

"You're a child."

"Yeah yeah. Join the club or whatever. Don't care if you don't or you want to."

You set it back to him again. "I want to."

Tsukishima senses your melancholy longing for the sport, sees your disheartened look as you think about all the chances you've lost. His heart twinges just the slightest, holding the ball between his slender hands. He almost pities you.

"Tell you what," he sets it to you. "If I pass the retest tomorrow, I'll help you with your blocking. If not," he shrugs, catching your return, "good luck with your life."

"You sound like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity." You roll your eyes.

Tsukishima hopes he passes the retest tomorrow.

Mainly because it was import to him to ace it. Partly because he wanted to see you on court.

🏐 —

100.

You read Tsukishima's answers. In the fluorescent lights, his neat handwriting presents to you all the knowledge he's obtained from your chaotic teachings. He scoffs proudly, resting his lower back on the edge of his table.

"Not bad, nerd." You hand his paper to him. "And you beat me by two points."

"That's because you're an idiot," he sits down on his chair, though still facing you. "See you at the gym later."

Your brows furrow. "The gym's closed. Coach Ukai said today's rest day."

"But I'm not Coach Ukai," he fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It's just for today. And only today."

"Fine," you agree. You act like you're forced to say yes, but deep inside the vessels of your heart and every part of your brain, they throb with excitement.

So you meet Tsukishima outside the gym after class in a white shirt and gym shorts. He meets you there, clad in the same outfit, heat radiating off his body that warms your always cold flesh. For a moment he admires observes you, your attire unfamiliar but nevertheless appealing hideous.

When you enter, the court seemed bigger without the boys rousing around the court. It was quieter, no shoes squeaking, no balls slammed, no eager yelling. You set your bag down on the floor and see your untied shoe laces.

"Fuck," you mutter.

But before you could bend down, Tsukishima has already knelt in front of you.

His knee rests on the tip of your shoe, fingers ribboning the laces of your rubber shoes. Your eyes widen, body stiffening, and it felt like forever as he tied it (it was actually only 10 seconds).

"You're a dumbass for leaving your shoelaces untied." He makes no comment as to why he's decided to tie your laces, but you swear you see his ears turn a twinge of pink.

Tsukishima takes a ball and goes to the other side of the court. When you stand opposite from him, he rolls the ball to your direction.

"How long has it been since you've played?" he asks, loudly, voice echoing across the empty gymnasium.

"Uh, a year and a half." The ball bounces between your palm and the squeaky floor. "I'm a little rusty."

"You are rusty. Your receives were shit last night."

You growl at his tease.

"We're not gonna start with the blockings. We have to start from the beginning." Tsukishima positions himself, knees bent and apart, his hands on his knees. "Serve it."

So you do. You toss the ball into the air, your hand striking as it meets the ball, and it flies across the net. It goes outside.

"Idiot." Tsukishima laughs. "First, don't try to aim it to me. You don't want your opponents to save it. You have to aim it at an open spot inside the line. Second, don't serve too hard it goes outside."

"Okay!" You yell. And you serve again.

The ball grazes the net, but the momentum deems the ball to be inside the line. Tsukishima catches it and receives it back to your side.

Shit.

You race after the ball, joined wrists hitting it back to him. He dives, the back of his hand coming contact with the ball and it goes back to your court.

And it's high in the air, so you take the chance to bend your knees and jump, spiking it to his court.

Tsukishima blocks it.

He laughs. "You're horrible at this."

"I don't exactly have a libero to save it, don't I?" You retort.

Tsukishima smiles a little, laughing at your loss point. "Give me the ball." You roll it to his side. "I want you to try and block me."

"The net is higher than it is for girls, you know." You approach the net. "I'll have a hard time."

"The higher you jump, the better you can block the ball. And you'll even have an advantage against your enemies since you're practicing with a higher net, (y/n)." He dribbles the ball.

Tsukishima called you by your first name.

Not your surname, not some insulting nickname. Your first name.

Your knees weaken at the sound of his voice dropping the phonemes of your name.

But when he flings the ball upwards, you feel your body go rigid. And just before his incoming ball passes through the net, you jump, fingers stopping the ball.

But the ball doesn't go to his side, instead it falls down below the net, at your side. You land clumsily on your feet, ankle bending but not painfully.

"See, you got it. You just have to jump higher."

"Shut up, you stilt walking clown." Your leg throbs, shaking. "Hit it again."

"See this?" Tsukishima brings his hands in the air, his arms and hands bent inward. "You block like this. Don't straighten your arms. It sets the ball upwards and they get the point since you're last touch. Block me again."

You kick the ball to his direction. Tsukishima springs the ball into the air once more, his arm flinging back when he jumps and strikes the ball towards you.

Filled with adrenaline, you jump as high as you could, your chest as high as the edge of the net, arms and hands bent inward as you block the ball and ricochet it towards him.

He doesn't do anything and watches the ball roll outside the court. Tsukishima's eyes shoot up and look at you, the corner of his lips bent downwards in amusement.

"Not bad. Try harder though."

You snarl at him.

Hours pass and you're both drenched in sweat. His shirt sticks to his chest, his hair damp across his forehead. He's wiping his face with a towel and his glasses rest on top of his hair. You drink from your water bottle.

The sweat drips down the tip of his nose, golden eyes drowsy yet vigorous with adrenaline. His lips are parted to pant out tired breaths, his adam's apple bobbing, the veins of his arms protruding. And he's sitting at the same bench as yours.

You swallow the liquid in your mouth.

"One day of practice isn't enough to get me into the club, Tsukishima." you say, wiping your mouth. "Thanks for teaching me though."

Tsukishima sets his towel down. "It's whatever. Your receives are go-fine, anyway. And you're really not that tall enough to block. You're hopeless."

"I wish Hinata was here to say that so he could yell at you."

Hinata. Tsukishima feels something uncomfortable rise to his chest when you mention his name.

And it seems as though you have summoned that tiny tangerine devil.

"Oh, Kageyama! The lights are open, someone must be here," your head turns and see that Hinata's hair pokes out the door before his head fully goes in. His eyes roam around until they find you. "Oh! (y/l/n)-san!"

"Hinata," you smile kindly. "Why are you guys still here? There's no training today."

"Tanaka-san said we can train for as much as we want as long as we don't tell Sawamura." he hops inside, Kageyama following suit behind him, unzipping his jacket. "What are you doing here, Stingyshima?"

"None of your business." He replies, irritation dripping off his sharp tongue from the nickname. "What do you think we were doing? Playing kendama?"

"I wouldn't mind playing kendama," Hinata looks at Kageyama, who shrugs. "Can we join?"

"Hopeless child," Tsukishima rubs his face with his towel again. "It's getting late. We should go home."

His usage of plural rather than sigular denotes that his usual selfishness has been decreased due to your unwavering presence, having been spent multiple hours with you for the past two days than usual. Tsukishima has easily adapted to include you in whatever he was going to do next.

We should go home.

"Aw, well, can you leave us the keys?" Hinata asks you. Tsukishima shoves the keys in the small boy's hand. "Thank you, Stingyshima!"

Tsukishima slings his bag over his shoulder, approaching the exit. He looks at Kageyama. "Fix your sets, your Majesty. You wouldn't want to clip the wings of Karasuno now, would you?"

You can see the smirk formed in his face. Kageyama is fuming, his fists clenching. "You– I...– You piece of shi– Hnmgh– You dumbass! Hinata!"

"Why me?!"

Tsukishima walks away without waiting for you, although you follow suit behind him. And when you reach the school gates, he turns right rather than left—and his way home begins with him turning left.

Yours was to the right.

"You gonna walk me home?" You joke, finally catching up behind him. Your weary legs has made you walk slower, though enough to now keep up with Tsukishima's tired pace.

"Yes."

Tsukishima doesn't spare a glance at you. But you look at him in shock. Then you shoot him an upsidedown smile, humming.

"No longer Stingyshima, I see."

"I ought to leave you here and get kidnapped." He states bluntly, finally looking down at you through his peripherals.

"Why are you walking me home then?"

"Because I want to take a long walk."

"Yeah sure, whatever." Your hands meet behind you, hitting the top of your bottom at every step you take. "You wanted to take a long walk. Could've gone to the park, could've roamed around your street. But yeah, you're walking me home so you could have a long walk back to your home."

Tsukishima tuts, his arms crossing. "Are you implying something, (y/n)?"

Your first name. Again.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything!" Your eyebrows raise, looking fully at him. And Tsukishima turns his head and looks at you as he walks. "I'm just stating what I've observed, Tsukki."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay!" You turn to your gate. When you reach inside the small box and pull on the lever of your door, you sense that Tsukishima is still standing behind you wth his hands in his pockets, watching you intently. So you turn around when the gate unlocks. "Yes? Do you need to use my bathroom first? Want a carton of milk or something?"

"No." He says. "Get in already."

You rest your back at your gate. "Tell me the real reason why you walked me home."

"No."

"So you lied to me earlier?"

"N-no."

"So what is it?"

Tsukishima sighs. Then he takes a few steps, approaching you and bends down so that his face would be equal to yours.

His scent is sweet, like freshly picked strawberries. And his lips, though thin, was soft and pink. And the tip of his nose grazes just above yours. And his golden eyes narrow to gaze at every speck of your irises. The corner of his lip turns upwards.

"That shut you up." He says. You blush, and he seems to taunt you. "Still want to play volleyball?"

His breath is hot fanning over your cold face. You can't help but nod. You swallow thickly from the close proximity that Tsukishima has created.

"Okay. Well, I still need help with english. And you obviously still need help with volleyball. So you reap what you sow. We'll help each other."

Tsukishima says those words like they're a command. Like they're being read from sacred scriptures. An event waiting to be happened for a prophecy to be fulfilled. Tsukishima's tone was flat but his voice deemed importance.

"Okay," was all you managed to let out through a breath. "See you tomorrow?"

Tsukishima stands up, eyes you up and down. Then looks into your eyes again and you swear that his gaze softens.

"See you tomorrow."

🏐—

A few weeks pass by.

At mornings, Tsukishima has come to pick you up and you studied on the way to Karasuno. You spend your lunches together, along with Yamaguchi, as well as Hinata and Kageyama who—while also bickering like children—listen to whatever you teach Tsukishima.

After classes, you find yourself joining the boys at the volleyball club, with Tsukishima helping you practice your blocks and receives. Though you notice that the boys take their strengths down a notch, which you are somewhat grateful for — because they truly are strong, and you're not ready to catch up to their level yet.

And at nights, Tsukishima walks you home with a milk carton in hand and sharp remarks in his mouth.

There's still a thick smoke of hatred that covers the both of you, that string of annoyance wrapped around your fingers. Yet as days pass by, that smoke has been thinning at every civil interaction. Albeit that annoyance still lingered.

And until today, that smoke has turned into this very light fog, until you begin to question why you hated Tsukishima in the first place.

Your phone vibrates.

tsukishima. Where are you? 8:32am

you. almost there. forgot my bag at home. 8:33am

tsukishima. Hurry up. It's cold outside. 8:33am

you. will do. sorry :| Read at 8:34am

Tsukishima is standing outside the gates of Karasuno, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed as you quickened the pace of your walk.

"You're so slow it's annoying," his eyebrows furrow. "Why'd you forget your bag? Idiot."

"You pressure me, douchebag." You flick the bridge of his glasses. He yelps. "Hurry. I want to study already. We have a quiz at 9."

When you and Tsukishima sit on your respective seats, you quiz each other with lazily scribbled flash cards. He seems to have absorbed the passed on knowledge and had answered the questions with ease.

So after the quiz, he seemed content; confident.

"How well did you think you did, beanpole?" You zip your bag.

"Well enough to beat your ass," he replies. Then, he does something new.

He smiles at you.

It wasn't a bright smile. Not energetic, but radiates some kind of light happiness. Seemed like a smile of gratitude.

You feel your cheeks flare.

After classes, you meet outside the gym as always, both of you changed into training clothes. Then you spend hours and hours jumping and tiring your wrists out, squeaking your shoes off the floor.

By the time the sun has set, Tsukishima was waiting for you again.

"Let's study."

Your eyes widen and you look startled. Tsukishima looks bored. "I'm pretty sure you got yourself covered for the rest of the year, Tsukishima."

"And I don't think you can train by yourself in volleyball," he adjusts his bag. "Let's just study. Reap what you sow."

"You keep saying that."

He ignores you. "Let's study at my place."

"E-excuse me?"

Tsukishima begins to walk to his direction. And despite your reaction, you follow him either way. "Let's study at my place for a change. I'm sick of your living room."

He says it like he's spent years hanging out in your living room. Your feet runs on the cobblestone to catch up with him. "But- What else are we gonna study?"

"Whatever I want."

His house wasn't actually that far from the campus. When you've turned a corner, he opens the gate and lets you in. When you enter his home, it's warm and clean, so you set your shoes aside and walk in your socks.

No one's home.

Tsukishima could've led you to their living room. Instead, he goes directly to his bedroom. And when you don't move, he looks at you through the door with a raised brow, as if to say "well? why aren't you getting in?"

So you do.

You sit on the edge of his bed, watching him unzip his jacket and set it aside. You decide to stop acting so wary and let you back fall to his bed, taking your phone out.

"So when are your tryouts?"

You look at him, placing your phone on your chest. "Next week. Michimiya was nice enough to let me try this late into the school year."

"I'll be there." He sits down on the other side of his bed.

"Oh," you're stunned. "Okay. Um, what do you want to study?"

You pull yourself up until your whole body is on his bed, sitting up and resting your back at his headboard. Tsukishima brings his legs to the bed, resting them beside your socked feet.

"Chemistry." This is new. "Can you run me through it?"

And you do. You take your notebook our and run him by all the lessons discussed for the past week. Tsukishima's pretends to listen but he actually doesn't.

Instead he's staring at your scar at your leg, up and down your very exposed thigh, but mostly at your scar.

You notice this immediately. "Tsukishima, why are you staring at my scar?"

"It's Kei," he looks at you, his hand resting just beside your calf, index finger twitching to trace the ridges of your scar. "Call me Kei."

Kei.

"Okay, Kei."

Your voice, filled with dulcets, his name sounding mellifluous as it rolls of your tongue. Tsukishima's heart beats wildly, and has decided to come with the terms that he hates you— because he likes you.

"Your scar looks... cool..." his index finger finally sets on the soft skin of your healed wound. You shiver at his featherlight touch.

And he's so near you now. As near as that time he walked you home and bent down to your height. And gods, he was so handsome. Even with his scratched glasses. Your mouth gapes the slightest, shaking hands reaching to remove the spectacles off his nose.

Tsukishima lets you. You see sweetness of his stare, all that hatred you used to see seemed to have melted and dripped from his sweat. This kind of Tsukishima is new– foreign, yet seemed right. Seemed destined to happen.

"Kei," you murmur. "What are you doing?"

"Is your skull too thick to process your environment?" his laugh leaves him in a huff, smirking.

"You're so eager for me to teach you something you're already good at so you could keep training me," your brows meet in the middle the slightest, a crease on your forehead that Tsukishima wants to wipe away. "Why?"

"Because you're good, (y/n)." He declares. "Your injury isn't stopping you to perform your best. You're just scared."

"Then why not just train me without me having to tutor you?"

"Because I don't want to lose these kind of moments." he whispers. "Jesus, (y/n), I like you. It's why I brought you here, for fuck's sake."

His lips are warm compared to his cold hands.

You gasp, though eyes fluttering shut, and your eyelashes tickle his soft cheeks. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he holds your delicate face in the palm of his hands, careful not to hurt you as his lips remain planted on yours.

When Tsukishima pulls away, he's not far from you. His lips hover over yours, breathing your air, his forehead resting just slightly on yours. Your fingers come up to tangle themselves on his silky hair.

"Lose moments like what, make out with me?" you giggle. "If you wanted to make out, Kei, just tell me."

"You never shut up, do you?"

His lips meet yours again in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue unabashed to graze your shy muscle. You hum in surprise, feeling yourself fall backwards when he gently cradles your head to rest on his sweet-scented pillow.

Somehow, you did meet up with your end of the bargain, only with something better.

Something better– like his hips slanted against yours as his mouth spreads shameless ardor across your body.

Something better– like how he whispers your name against your lips like a sacred prayer before he kisses you again carefully.

Something better– like a newfound relationship with Tsukishima Kei, someone you swore was your enemy, but now was someone you could spend your days with in his bed getting warm in ways fire couldn't.

Tsukishima looks into your eyes, tells you his secrets through his dilating pupils. His calloused fingers push your hair behind your ears, and then he kisses your forehead, followed by silk petal kisses on the plump of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and then your lips.

His hands wander beneath your shirt, palms no longer cold as they're heated by the fervor of your body.

"You're so pretty."

"What a sap." you tease. "You're in love with me."

"I am." His nose rubs against yours lightly. "I so am. I'm in love with a dumbass. My ego has exploded."

You hit his face with a pillow.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!

[ddejavvu]

I can’t stop thinking about being a suspect in a case and being interviewed by Hotch 😭 like being so nervous and him taking it as like “??? are you even gonna try hiding it??” and you’re not gonna be honest and be like “i’m not nervous because i’m guilty i’m nervous BC YOURE A HOT OLD MAN” because this is a serious case and serious situation so it’s just Hotch trying to coax it out of you, you being all flustered looking suspicious but actually like needy for this man, and the team who caught on like “oh wait no. shes just attracted to him. why do we have hot people on the team?”

SSA Hotchner's scrutinizing gaze studies your weak posture, your fidgeting fingers, your spotty eye contact, and he muses, "You're not very good at controlling your body language."

"What?" You look at him, eyes wide and round and full of nerves. You've never been questioned before, not even by a low level security officer, much less an FBI Agent. You suppose that's making you nervous, yes, but what's really wringing you out is the fact that the one they sent to your interrogation room is just plain hot.

He's gorgeous, all sharp features that are always angled towards you, and dark eyes you'd expect of a criminal, not its captor. His suit is crisp and his voice is low; he's the pinnacle of professionalism and he's making you squirm with his undivided, discerning attention.

"You're nervous," He accuses, and you let out a soft huff in the back of your throat.

Who wouldn't be?

"You're fidgeting, you can't look me in the eyes, you lean away from me," He lists, leaning forwards in his chair to watch you repel like a magnet, your back pressing into the metal bars behind you as he proves his point.

"I'd think someone with the criminal expertise to commit six murders without witnesses would have a better handle on their outward appearance."

"I'd think so, too," You manage, not without stammering, "Agent- Agent Hotchner, I- I'm not-"

"You're not guilty? You're the closest thing we have to a suspect," He doesn't let your stuttering deter him, leaning ever-closer until you're flattened against the back of your chair and he's still advancing. He rises from his seat, inching closer and closer as he continues, "You miraculously discovered the body at an odd hour of the night when you had no business being at the scene of the crime, you called it in, you told the police you knew nothing, you're telling me you know nothing, but still," He's inches away from you now, and every nerve in your body is aflame with mortification at the very unhelpful fantasies rushing through your head as he pins you to the chair.

"-You insist on your innocence, but I don't think you're innocent at all. I think you're trying to toy with us, but we don't play games, you won't win. Understand?" His dark eyes bore into your own and you're painfully attracted to them, biting the inside of your cheek to stop from begging him to back away before you lose control and surge forward to kiss him. He refuses to blink, but you're doing it enough for the both of you, lashes rapidly fluttering as you try calming your pounding heart. He watches you for one, two, three, four, five seconds, expecting a hurried confession at any moment, but the door clicks open before you can stammer something humiliating.

"Hotch," It's a dark-haired woman, and god, does the FBI recruit people based on attractiveness? She's stunning and she turns her beautiful eyes on you in sympathy, "Back off, Hotch. She's innocent."

He narrows his eyes at her almost imperceptibly, turning away from you, "You found the unsub?"

"No," She admits, "But it's not her. Okay? I just know."

"You just- Agent Prentiss," Agent Hotchner stands straight, "That's not protocol."

"I know," She gushes, but she strides confidently through the room to ease you upright and out of your chair, "Just- let me handle this, okay? Come on, honey, we'll talk somewhere private."

Agent Hotchner lets her take you away, and he must trust her, even if he's watching her with narrowed eyes. Maybe this is some interrogation tactic, maybe the woman leading you by the shoulder through the precinct is the good cop, and he was the bad one.

She leads you past a cluster of people all leaning against desks or hunching over files, and a slim blonde woman shoots you a knowing smile. What she knows, you're not sure, but you wish so badly that it were comforting.

The woman walking with you leads you straight to the front door, taking your purse from where they'd confiscated it earlier and handing it back to you.

"You're free to go," She smiles at you, eyes nothing but kind, "I'll tell him you proved your innocence."

"But- what," Your fingers are almost too limp to keep your bag in their grip, "I don't understand-"

"I do," She grins, "He's handsome, I get it. He tends to forget that."

Your cheeks sear with flames that you wish would turn you to ash right then and there, so that you could be carried away on the breeze and not have to answer for your embarrassing instincts.

"Don't worry about it," She laughs, clearly sympathetic to your panic, "Trust me, you're not the first person that's squirmed in their seat under the intense gaze of Aaron Hotchner. He's a smart man, but never smart enough to figure out when someone likes him. You're free to go, honey," She repeats, reaching out to squeeze your arm, "And if you ever get dragged into an investigation again - which I hope you don't," She grins, "I wish you a very ugly investigator."

[rifari2037]

The idea of her being mother figure is challenged right from episode one when Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Okay, that's right! That's spot on! I don't deny that Aang makes Katara act like a child again for a while.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Fire Nation. Sokka : We should tell him. Katara : [Yelling.] Aang! There's something you need to see. Aang : [Aang runs to them from the airball court, still playing with the hollow ball. Cheerfully.] Okay! Aang : [Happily runs up.] What is it? Katara : [Innocently holds her hands behind her back.] Uh... Just a new waterbending move I learned. Aang : Nice one! But enough practicing, [Excited as he turns around and start walking away.] we have a whole temple to see! Sokka : [Brushes the last of the snow from his head and shoulders.] You know, you can't protect him forever.

It's only the third episode, but Aang's childish attitude already makes Katara act like a mother protecting her child from reality. Katara also has to calm Aang down when he goes into avatar mode, it happens several times like it's her responsibility to do so.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Resumed filling the pot with more vegetables.] Watching you show off for a bunch of girls does not sound like fun. Aang : [Disappointed.] Well, neither does carrying your basket. Katara : [Annoyed.] It's not my basket. These supplies are for our trip. I told you, we have to leave Kyoshi soon.

This scene actually piss me off, like, if I were Katara I would mad too! And again, Aang's irresponsible and childish behaviour forced Katara to be responsible for doing the chores. If not her to be mature, who else? Sokka who is busy with his misogyny towards the Kyoshi warriors? Or Aang who is busy having fun with his fans?

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Aang ran away after someone blamed him for something he actually did a hundred years ago. Katara must find him in the storm, then help him dwelling with his past.

And it happens again in The Awakening. Aang runs away and triggers Katara's another trauma that forces her to grow up, which is being abandoned by the person she cares about (her father). Katara (Sokka and Toph) must find him and save him.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : [Disappointed.] Wow... there's hardly any in here. Aang : [Lashes out.] I'm sorry, okay! It's a desert cloud; I did all I could! What's anyone else doing?! [Pointing his staff at Katara.] What are you doing‌?! She returns his attack with a shocked look on her face. Katara : Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.

Katara is the only one who can keep the Gaang out of the desert. If she doesn't act mature and responsible with the Gaang, they might not survive. And what does Aang do? Get mad at her for losing Appa, while Katara is not to blame for it.

Aang reminds her that she's still just a kid.

Katara : Aang, we do understand. It's just ... Aang : Just what, Katara? What? Katara : We're trying to help! Aang : Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it! [Walks away.] Katara : Aang, don't walk away from this. [Walks toward Aang.]

I love Katara, you know, that's why I really don't like Aang pointing angrily at Katara and blaming her every time he got emotional, when Katara didn't do something wrong and just wants to help him. Is this a healthy relationship?

Aang reminds Katara that she's just a child in the first episode, but unfortunately, the Gaang (especially Aang) once again forces Katara to be motherly in the next episodes.

Does she like being motherly? No, she doesn't. She wants to have fun too, but if she did, the Gaang would be screwed. Being motherly is not just her nature, but the Gaang (except Suki) forces her to be more mature than the others narratively.

Actually, that's why I like the idea of Momtara and Dadko. In my opinion, this nickname is not to make her forget she is just a kid. Instead, because the narrative itself always shows Katara forced to act motherly toward Gaang, 'Momtara and Dadko' shows that is not only Katara's responsibility to do all chores.

Calling Zuko Dadko is also reasonable, because he is narratively more mature among the Gaang (except Suki). He focuses on Aang's training and worries that Aang will fail, just like what father usually do to his son.

More than that, Katara doesn't need to act motherly with Zuko - he is the one bringing her things and preparing what they need in their journey contras with what Aang did in Kyoshi Island. And they act more like equal partners toward each other, rather than mother and son.

Oh, it's true that Aang makes Katara child again in first episode. But it's weird to defend Kat/ang and hate the narrative of Katara being motherly at the same time, when the Gaang (especially Aang) often forced Katara to act motherly.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

My Alpha

This is kind of a long one shot (5619 words!), but I thought I'd try my hand at the ABO!/Omegaverse. Hope you like it!

Being an omega wasn’t always a bad thing.  At least that’s what she told herself repeatedly as she religiously took hormone blocking birth control pills and wore scent blockers on the daily.  Y/N hadn’t had a heat in years and wasn’t planning on letting up any time soon.  She had started working as a personal assistant for the Avengers under Tony Stark years before, going through the Sokovia Accords debacle, surviving the Blip, losing Natasha, Tony, Steve, T'Challa, and all the other strange and traumatic things that happened during her tenure.  She had denied her biology to get this job, not wanting it to affect her performance or be a target while being surrounded by literal super Alphas in this field.  And as hard as the job was, she loved it.

One of the greatest highlights was gaining Bucky Barnes as a friend.  While other Alphas she had come across were domineering, he was compassionate and kind.  He very rarely lost his composure like others did during high pressure situations in missions, and never fought over who was in charge.  He was incredibly careful to make sure everyone around him felt comfortable in his presence.  After finally shaking the Winter Soldier programming he didn’t want to ever lose control of himself again, and with the super soldier serum messing with his hormones to the extent that he was nearly feral during ruts, he would isolate himself away to keep her and others safe.  

Y/N felt like she could talk to him about anything, and he felt the same.  She was his sanctuary after rough missions, one of the few people that could break him out of a deep depressive state or the nightmares that still plagued him.  He knew she was an Omega but could barely smell her because of her blockers, which he both loved and hated.  Loved because it made it so they could be friends without the weird biological dynamics getting in the way, and hated because he was super curious about what her scent was.  They had fallen for each other long ago, but were both too afraid to do anything about it.

As they both relaxed during a rare weekend off they got on the topic of Omega versus Alpha traits.  “I get it, Alphas can be rough, but don’t you want to mate someday?  Find someone special to settle down with?  Maybe have a family?”

She sighed.  “Of course I do, Buck.”

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked gently.

“Not having a clear choice,” she answered simply, giving him a sharp look.  “I don’t want my biology to decide my fate.  So many Omegas get stuck being mated with bad Alphas because their heats were uncontrollable and the Alpha wouldn’t take no for an answer.  I know that I’m predestined to be a nurturer.  Hell, that’s what my job is now, taking care of all of you guys!  But I should get to choose who I end up with based on love, not by body’s reactions.” Bucky nodded in understanding, looking down at his intertwined hands.  “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.  “I just don’t know how it would work out.  This job…my past.  It all points towards disaster at any given time.”

She slid over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders awkwardly as she sat next to him.  “You deserve a happy ever after, Bucky.”

“You do, too, you know,” he reminded her, resting his head on top of hers.

“Mmh, maybe someday,” she said wistfully as she undid her embrace and leaned back against the couch.

“So, anyways,” he cleared his throat.  “Is it true that Omegas have a better sense of smell than Alphas or Betas?  Like you can pick up on others’ scents and identify them really well?”

She laughed.  “Yes, it’s true.”

“Really?  Okay, what does…” he scanned the room as other Avengers milled in and out.  “Peter.  What does Spidey smell like?” He tested her, watching her expectantly.

She took a look at Peter across the room, her nose slightly flaring as she took in a whiff from his direction.  “He always smells like fresh bagels to me.  You know the smell of just-baked bread?  Kinda like that.  Mixed with a little bit of hazelnut.”

Bucky looked at her in awe.  “Yeah I kinda get that off of him.  Alphas can smell and track scents but not to that level.”

“Hm, that’s interesting,” she said as her eyebrows furrowed.  

“Now how about Sam?” he asked excitedly, hoping it would be something not so pleasant he could tease him about.

“Ha, Sam is Cajun seasoning with a sweet lemony undertone.  Like really well done seafood,” she answered quickly with a smile on her face, knowing Bucky would be disappointed in that answer.

Bucky frowned as he thought about who to ask of next.  “Okay, how about…Steve?” He knew it was a long shot.  Steve had been gone for a few years now, so she probably wouldn’t remember.  But she gave him a soft smile.

“Steve was smoky, like fireworks.  A summer night that ends with warm apple crisp and melting vanilla ice cream on top,” she said as she stared out the window, a dazed look in her eyes as she remembered him.

“Wow…” Bucky whispered.  “I always got the fireworks, and something like a picnic.  But now that you say it, yeah, apple with vanilla.”

“Yep, he was truly all American,” she winked at him.

He laughed as he turned towards her on the couch.  “How about, um…me?”

She gazed at him, her expression softening as her nose flared again and she huffed out the breath she’d taken.  “Smoky, like Steve, but different.”

“Like gunpowder?” he asked suddenly, his eyes searching hers.  He had been told that before and was hoping they were wrong.

“No, not gunpowder.  More like…” she sniffed again but frowned.  “Do you mind if I…?” she gestured her finger from herself to him.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, opening himself up for her to scoot closer to him.  She leaned in towards his neck, the best place to scent someone, and breathed in a slow sniff of him.  She closed her eyes.

“Campfire.  A campfire on the beach.  And the smell of the ocean after it rains,” she said resolutely, opening her eyes to look at him.  Their faces were close as he stared at her.  “But no, not gunpowder,” she reassured him.

“That’s good,” he breathed, his eyes shifting from her eyes down to her lips and back.

Her eyes suddenly widened, her brow furrowing and she pulled herself away quickly.  “I, um…I need to go…excuse me,” she said hurriedly before she jumped off the couch and power-walked down the hall towards her room.

“Wait, Y/N, are you okay?” Bucky stood from the couch as he watched her leave.

“Yeah!  I’ll talk to you later!” she yelled back without looking, her voice sounded strained.

“What the hell?” he asked himself quietly, looking around him like something had jumped out and spooked her.

Once she was out of sight she ran to her room and had Friday bolt the door.  She doubled over in pain and clutched her stomach.  “No way,” she moaned as she reached for her phone and called for help.

“Hey you, how are ya?” Bruce asked when he answered the call.

“Bruce,” her voice was pained as she held in another moan.  “I need help, something’s wrong.”

“What?  What’s going on?” he sounded worried, the rustling of papers and beeping from a screen by him going off.

“It feels…like a heat?  But that’s not possible, right?  We made sure of it,” she grunted as another cramp shot through her abdomen, and just as suddenly as it all started, it suddenly stopped, leaving her gasping.  “Wait, now it stopped?  What the hell is happening?”

“Come down to the lab, right now.  We’ll get you tested.”

She didn’t need to be told twice as she hung up and crept out of her room towards the elevator.  She was able to get in and down to the lab a few floors away without being caught by Bucky or anybody else.  She ran into the lab in a panic.  Bruce was already setting up the medical bay in the back with everything needed to do a check-up, some vials next to the other instruments.

“Hey, let’s take some blood and see what’s going on,” he called out to her when he heard the doors slide open.  She jogged to the bed and hopped up on it, taking off her cardigan so he could access the veins in her arm better.  After a quick routine check up he took a few vials of her blood then stepped out towards all the equipment he had for medical and scientific tests.  

He worked silently as she sat there deep in thought.  It can’t be, she tried to reassure herself.  I’ve been so careful.  Not missed a single pill ever.  This can’t be happening.  After about an hour Bruce came back with a screen in his hand, his eyebrows hung low over his eyes and a frown on his face.

“Y/N, it’s…it’s not working anymore,” he said softly, his eyes sad and confused as he looked at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes widening.

“The hormone blockers, the pills…your body isn’t responding to them anymore.  Your hormones are syncing back to normal Omega levels.  Your heats are going to come back.”

“No, no no no no no…NO Bruce!  I can’t.  Please, there’s gotta be another pill to try, a shot, an implant, something?  Anything, please?” she began to cry.  

“I’m sorry Y/N.  We already got you the best blockers that are available out there.  If your body is weaning off of them it means your biology is taking over, probably because you’re getting older and it’s fighting back to have a chance at mating.  I’m so sorry,” he showed her the hormone levels on a chart on the screen, pointing out the differences and then setting it down.  “There’s nothing I can do.  Nothing you can do but prepare yourself for it to start again.  And your first one is probably going to be brutal after avoiding them for so long.  You’ll need help–”

“NO!  No, I can’t do this.  I can’t ask some random Alpha for help.  This isn’t fair!” she cried harder, hiding her face in her hands.  Bruce patted her on the back, trying to help ease her pain by giving off a calming scent.  He was also an Omega and knew how much this meant to her.  

“It will be alright, Y/N.  You have friends here who will help you without making it awkward between you and them, or won’t immediately try mating with you during your heat.  They’re good Alphas.  They won’t hurt you or take advantage of you,” he promised.

She tried to calm the loud beating of her heart that was wringing in her ears, a panic attack trying to settle deep in her bones that she was fighting back.  “How long do I have until it comes?” she sighed as she sniffled.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.  With it being so long since you last had one it could be next week or it could be in a couple of months,” he answered gravely.

“Ugh, great,” she laughed as she wiped her tears away.  “No choice, whatsoever.  My body ultimately got to decide for me after all.  Wonderful,” she spat as she jumped down off the bed.  “Thank you, Bruce, for testing.  I just…I need to go sleep this off, I don’t know,” she said, giving him a quick hug and then leaving the lab.  

She took the elevator back up to her floor, her eyes stinging from the hot tears still slowly falling down.  Her heat was coming back, and with a vengeance.  She would need help.  Who would she ask?  Any of the unmated superhero Alphas would probably say yes, though she knew she only wanted one.  But how could she ask this of him?  And if he did help, how could she go on with their friendship as if nothing had happened between them afterwards?

The elevator opened and she trudged into the common room.  The floor was already dark as twilight set in and everyone had split off to their rooms.  She slipped into the kitchen since she missed dinner while down in the lab to grab something to eat, although she wasn’t particularly hungry.  As she made herself a sandwich she turned to grab a knife then saw a figure in the corner at the dining table.

“Jesus!  Fuck, Bucky you scared me,” she gasped, holding a hand over her heart.

“Sorry, honey,” he grunted as he sat watching her.  “Why are you crying?”

She stiffened as she looked at him, trying to act nonchalant as she grabbed the knife and turned back to her sandwich.  “I’m not, I’m just tired,” she waved him off, quickly cutting the sandwich and putting the ingredients and dishes away to escape.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N.  What’s wrong?” he stood, walking towards her.  She reached for the refrigerator door to get a drink, which he quickly shut and stared her down.  She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Come on Buck, I just need a drink,” she complained as she tried to open the door again, reaching for the handle.  Bucky grabbed her wrist firmly and leaned in towards her.

“What’s wrong Y/N?  You ran away earlier and now you smell…off,” he said, searching her eyes as his nose flared at the scent she was radiating.  His frown deepened and his eyes looked worried.  “Why are you afraid?  Was it me?  Did I do something wrong?”

“No!  Oh no, Bucky, it’s not you,” she said, her eyes widening.  “It’s me, it’s just…” her eyes welled up with tears again, spilling onto her cheeks as she sucked in a sharp breath.  “It’s me,” she sobbed, leaning forward til her forehead rested against his chest.

“Oh honey,” Bucky sighed.  He put his hands under her armpits and lifted her onto the counter so she was eye level with him.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face in his shoulder, crying harder as he enveloped her, his hands rubbing up and down her back as he whispered reassuring words to her.  They sat holding each other for a while, Bucky letting her cry it out and Y/N relishing the comfort.  As her cries died down and her grip loosened around his neck he pulled back.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please?  You’re breaking an old man’s heart,” he pleaded, hating to see her hurting so much.

Y/N chuckled at him calling himself an old man as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.  Bucky held her face in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.  She let herself enjoy his touch before she sniffled and finally looked up at him.

“When I was talking to you earlier, I felt this weird pain,” she explained quietly.  Bucky nodded, listening intently as he held her face still.  “That’s why I ran out.  I went to Bruce’s lab to test me because it felt like…like a heat,” she sniffled again, looking down at her lap.  Bucky nodded again, his hands releasing her face and reaching for her hands to hold.  “I haven’t had one in years.”  This surprised him.  He knew there were new ways of birth control for Omegas now, giving them a lot more options than to just mate and reproduce and take care of their Alphas and pups like the old days, which he thought was great.  He just didn’t realize it could be for so long.  “And now, apparently, the hormone blockers aren’t working anymore,” she gripped his fingers tightly.  “My body is rejecting them, weaning off of them and reverting back to normal hormone levels.  My heat is coming,” she sucked in another sharp breath.  “I don’t know when, but he said it’s going to be brutal since I’ve been avoiding them for so long.  He said I’ll need help and…and I don’t know what to do.”  Her voice shook as she looked up at him again.  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Bucky could feel her panic and gave off what he hoped was a calming scent.  It seemed to help as her eyes fluttered shut and her shoulders visibly relaxed.  The Alpha in him hummed in satisfaction as he swept his thumbs over her knuckles.  “You don’t need to be scared, Y/N.  It’s going to be okay,” he tried to placate her.  “Listen, I know earlier you said you wanted a choice, and now your body’s not giving you one.”  She nodded, a few more tears slipping out the sides of her eyes.  “I…I can help you,” he said, gulping back the lump in his throat.  Her eyes snapped up to him, a look of shock on her face.  “I know that I’m offering something kinda crazy.  But I promise you I won’t hurt you, I won’t make you court me if you don’t want to, and I won’t forcibly mate with you.”  He looked her deep in her eyes to try to get her to understand.  “But I’d be honored to help you.”

Y/N couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.  She had wanted to ask him and now he was offering himself for her to get through this first heat.  She licked her lips and contemplated it.  “I just don’t want it to ruin our friendship,” she sniffed again, her eyes searching his face for hesitation.

“It won’t,” he said earnestly.  

“...Okay,” she agreed.  

Bucky smiled as he squeezed her fingers.  “Okay.”

“Thank you, Bucky.  You’re a good Alpha,” she thanked him, lifting his hands up and kissing his knuckles.

His eyes fluttered shut and he cleared his throat.  “You should probably not call me that, at least not right now.”

Her eyes widened.  “Oh!  God, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean–”

“It’s okay, honey, it’s fine,” he chuckled.  “Whenever it hits you, just call me, and I’ll be there.”

She gave him a warm smile in appreciation.  They were playing with fire, and they both knew it deep down, but were denying it heavily.

***

Y/N could feel her hormones changing her body and mind.  Bruce had advised against wearing scent blockers as well to help her body fully adjust and hopefully not cause as much pain during her upcoming heat, and that was the first thing she noticed.  The Alphas around her, who would normally just give her a friendly greeting or a smile, now watched her hungrily through narrow eyes, giving tight smiles as their noses flared as she passed by.  It made her self-conscious enough to ask Bucky one day, “Do I smell bad?”

Bucky looked away from the book he was reading as she plopped next to him on the couch in the common room again, lifting her feet up to rest on his lap.  She was touching him a lot more lately.  “What do you mean?”

“Do I smell bad?  Omegas can’t really smell themselves very well, and since I took off the scent blockers I’ve been…watched,” she looked around the room warily.  Bucky’s eyes swept across the other Alphas in the room, noting how they were all giving off territorial scents as they tracked her.  He sat up straight, facing each one until they caught his eye and gave off a warning rumble deep in his chest, his eyes flashing dangerously.  They each quickly retreated, shamefully turning back towards their previous tasks.  The air around Y/N seemed to lift and she felt like she could breathe again.  “Thank you, Bucky.”

He sat back on the couch, grabbing his book with one hand and mindlessly rubbing her feet with the other.  “No need to thank me, honey.  And no, you don’t smell bad.  You smell like chai.”

“Chai?” Y/N scoffed.

“Yeah, chai with…” he reached a hand out and grabbed her wrist, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.  Her eyes widened comically at his brashness in scenting her so publicly.  “Pumpkin.  Chai and pumpkin.  Like Autumn,” he concluded, setting her wrist down and then rubbing her feet again.  He said it so casually that she just stared at him dumbfounded.  

It got worse as the weeks went on.  Her emotions were haywire, one minute she was calm and cool and the next she was agitated and easily crying at anything.  She was nesting anxiously, rearranging her room and her desk in her office, constantly carrying around a large fuzzy cardigan or blanket with her.  Her joints were sore, especially in her hips.  She found herself eating all the time.  Bruce had her come down to the lab each week to check her levels, each time warning her it could happen any day now.  

A month and a half later on a Friday night the team got together for a movie night.  They decided on watching the first Avatar, a movie Bucky hadn’t yet seen.  As it played Y/N kept fidgeting next to him, adjusting her sitting position, wringing her hands in her lap, taking deep breaths periodically.  A scene began of two of the characters connecting in a tree garden and Sam yelled out, “Alien tree sex!”  Everyone laughed but Y/N bolted out of the room.  Bucky watched her run down to her room and shut her door.

He quietly got up and followed her.  He could tell just by her scent changing these last few weeks and how it was getting stronger, the chai smell getting spicier, that her heat was fast approaching.  She had been very touchy with him, following him around and staying close whenever they were in the same room.  He had no claim to her, but it was evident to everyone to stay away from her, otherwise they’d get a growl from him.  He was growing more excited by the day, trying to remind himself that he was just helping out a friend, not staking any claim or bond.  

When he reached her door he pressed his ear against it, listening for her.  He heard her heart rate picking up and her breathing became labored.  He could also smell her, more potent, spicy, the scent of unmated Omega making his hormones sing and call out for her.  A deep rumble emitted from his chest as he felt his cock hardening.  He knocked on her door.

“Y/N,” he called out, just loud enough for her to hear.  A soft moan came from the other side.  His eyelids shut tight at the sound.  It was time.  “I’m coming in,” he warned before opening the door.  He stepped inside and was hit with the scent full force, making his eyes and mouth water simultaneously.  Y/N was laying in the nest she built on her bed in the fetal position, one hand on her stomach and the other in between her legs, not yet touching herself but keeping pressure against her core.  “Honey…” he groaned as he locked the door behind himself and walked towards the bed.

“Alpha,” she breathed, her brow furrowed and eyes shut tight.  A cramp wracked through her whole body and she yelped in pain.  “It’s starting.  It hurts…hurts so bad,” she cried as she could feel a small gush of slick pour from her pussy as her body recognized the Alpha in the room.

“It’s gonna be okay, honey, I’m here,” he cooed at her, reaching his hand out and running his fingers along her leg from her ankle to her thigh.  “Let’s get you out of these, huh?” he said while lifting the hem of her shorts up slightly.  She nodded and blindly started pulling at her clothes.  Bucky helped her strip out of her layers then undressed himself, giving her naked body an appreciative glance.  He lay behind her on the bed, cocooning her in his arms and leaning his head into the crook of her neck and scenting her.  He could feel himself getting drunk off of her heat.  She was sending him into an early rut as his hips rocked against her ass slowly.  Y/N keened at that, her back arching and pushing her ass into his crotch further.  He moaned at the sensation, his arms tightening around her.  “Shh, Omega.  I got you,” he said as his voice dropped further, the Alpha coming through more prominently now.

“Bucky…” she sighed, her hands gripping his arms around her.  “Please…Alpha please,” she begged, her legs shaking as another cramp hit her.

Bucky moaned at the sound of his name said that way coming from her lips.  He started to lick and suck and kiss at the scent gland on her throat, making her gasp loudly.  His scent mixed with hers, and they quickly got lost in each other.  His hands found her breasts and massaged them firmly, his fingers tweaking her nipples and making her hips buck back into him again.  He twisted her body around to face him.  She quickly molded herself back to him, hiking her leg up and over his hip, her hands scratching down his chest.  He tried to remind himself one last time that this was just a friend helping a friend.  Then she kissed him.

The kiss broke the dam of hesitancy he was holding to desperately.  He quickly responded, his mouth opening and their tongues tangling as they tasted each other.  Bucky climbed on top of her, his knees forcing hers apart.  His fingers probed her lower lips, finding her clit and giving it all his attention.  Y/N’s hips writhed as he riled her up.  She watched his fingers dip into her, making her breath stutter.  She was already dripping for him so he plunged two fingers into her, thrusting them in and out while his thumb rubbed and flicked her clit.  

“Fuck Alpha,” she groaned.  “Just like that, shit!”

Bucky smiled as she cursed, her legs shaking against his.  She reached down and took his cock in her hand, giving him lazy pumps as he got her closer to her release.  He huffed a sharp breath.  “Damn, honey, oooh that’s good,” he said lowly.  “Give it to me, love, come on, you can do it.  Be such a good Omega for me,” he encouraged her as he curled his fingers as deep as he could reach.  

The tension in her core finally snapped, her first orgasm ripping through her at lightning speed, squirting slick all over his hand and his hips.  She let out a guttural moan, the sound reverberating through the air, making the Alpha inside of him scream to claim her.  He had to physically restrain himself as he pulled his fingers out of her.  She smiled as she watched him with hooded eyes.  He put his wet fingers in his mouth and licked them clean of her slick, his eyes rolling back at the taste.

“Alpha please, I need you.  Bucky, I want your big cock inside me…please!” Y/N begged again.  Normally it would embarrass her to be acting like this, she would have never dreamed of speaking to Bucky this way.  But they were beyond the point of no return.

“Condom first, Omega,” he reminded her in his authoritative voice.  “As much as I’d love to fill you up, I don’t think that’s what you want just yet.”

Y/N pouted, but the first orgasm had helped clear her brain a little bit, and pointed to the nightstand next to the bed.  Bucky quickly reached over and pulled open the top drawer, finding the box and pulling a few of them out.  He unwrapped one and slipped it on himself before settling back between her legs, backing up a little bit.  “Present, please, Omega.”

Y/N twisted herself onto her stomach, lifting her hips high and pressing the side of her face into the bed.  Bucky almost whimpered at the sight of her sweet pussy, seeing the way he had made her drip with slick, the skin softly puckering in anticipation.  “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen Y/N, goddamn,” he whispered huskily.  She preened at his praise, her ass raising a little higher.  He gave her ass a quick slap, making her yelp and shiver.  “You ready?” he asked, making sure she was still wanting this.

“Yes, please Alpha, Bucky…please!”

“You’re so sexy when you beg,” he slapped her ass again, then grabbed her hips and aimed himself at her entrance.  He slowly pushed in the tip of his cock, the fat head catching just past her lower lips, making them both groan.  He kept pushing until he was fully seated inside her, letting her adjust to his size.  Y/N was keening again, a high pitched tone ringing through the air.  After a moment she wriggled her hips, silently asking him to thrust.  A deep growl emanated from Bucky’s throat and he pulled back until it was just the tip inside, then snapped his hips back into her hard. 

Y/N was making the sweetest noises he’d ever heard as he pummeled his cock into her.  She whimpered and moaned, making him hook an arm around her hips and lay his stomach across her back, quick huffs of his breath warming her shoulder.  He could feel her walls fluttering around him, making the rhythm of his hips stutter.  “Fuck, honey, you gonna cum?”  She nodded as her moans got louder.  He flipped her back over onto her back so he could watch her release, leaving barely any room between them as he hovered over her.  Her hands wound around the back of his neck, scratching his scalp with her nails.  “Goddammit, do that again,” he heard himself whimpering this time.  She scratched from the top of his head down to his neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

He reached between their bodies and started flicking her clit as he chased his own high.  “Bucky, oh my God,” she squealed against his lips as her back arched and her legs clung to his hips.  “Yes, yes, yes, shit…mark me.”

Bucky didn’t stop thrusting but tensed at her words.  “No, Y/N, you don’t want that.”

“Yes, I do, with you, Bucky,” she gasped.

“Omega,” he warned her, his eyes flashing.  “We can talk about that when I’m not balls deep inside you.”

Y/N tensed at his Alpha command, her legs loosening around him.  “I want you to be my Alpha, my mate.”

“God fucking dammit,” Bucky stopped thrusting and leaned on his elbows above her.  “Y/N, listen to me, you don’t want that.  You said you wanted a clear choice, remember?”  Y/N was silent and wide eyed as she watched him, slightly nodding her head.  “This isn’t a clear choice.  Your first heat in how many years?  It’s your hormones talking, honey.  And believe me, I’d love to mark you, claim you, bond and mate with you.  Stuff you full of me,” he thrust again, making her eyes roll back, “and breed you with my pups.  But we can talk about all that later.  Right now, I’m here to help you through this, because you’re my best friend, and…I’m ridiculously in love with you.”  He finally said it.  “I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.  But when it’s both of us with clear heads and a clear choice.  Okay?”

Y/N’s eyes were watery as she listened to him.  “You’re in love with me?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Is that all you got out of that?”

She shook her head, “No, but it’s the most important thing.  I’m in love with you.”

He smiled wide and leaned down to give a quick kiss to her nose.  “Can I continue now?”

She nodded again, and he gave her another thrust to get her going again.  Her slick started to make squelching noises as he picked up the pace again, his knot starting to catch at her entrance, his hand reaching to her clit again and trailing kisses down her throat to her scent gland, licking and sucking at it again.

“One day, if you’ll have me, I’ll bite this pretty neck,” he moaned in her ear as her fingers dug into his back.  “Make you mine.”

“Yours, all yours, Bucky…Alpha,” Y/N groaned, leaning her head up and scenting him back.  Her soft lips and her tongue against his gland had his eyes rolling in his head again and his fingers gripping her hips harshly.  “That’s right.  Mine.  Mine…mine,” he thrusted harder and faster, angling her hips up to hit deeper.

Y/N screamed his name as she finally came, her hands digging into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, scratching his scent gland and making him see stars as he came with a yell, his knot fully inflating and latching him to her as she nearly squeezed the dear life out of him.  He fell on top of her, and she held him as he calmed down, both of them panting and sweaty.  

A heady scent filled the air, a smell that screamed satisfied mates.  Bucky pulled himself to his side, holding her close so it wouldn’t hurt her to move with him, and covered them with the blankets from her nest.  Y/N was delirious after this first round of her heat, her head lolling with exhaustion.  “Rest, Omega.  We’ve still got a few days, and forever after that.”

She smiled sleepily, “Hmmm, my Alpha.”

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You're here) Chapter 4

Chapter 3

For Duke it was a normal day after going to a classmate's house to finish a group project. He was eager to show you the project and talk to you about his day as he had started to do since the first day he set foot in Wayne Manor.

He could never forget that day...

The first time Duke went to Wayne Manor he was a bundle of nerves along with other emotions. He had just lost his parents due to the Joker's toxin and had just started his training with Bruce. He couldn't deny that he wasn't grateful to the billionaire and his family of vigilantes but he did miss that normality in his day to day life like when his parents were still well.

It was a day that he was lost in the mansion that was the one that found you. He had just finished his training with Bruce and Damian and had the intention of returning to his room when he got lost, but it wasn't until he ran into someone that he finally paid attention to where he was walking.

You were walking down the hall with your laptop in your hands, it seemed like you had just come from outside. He had never seen you before but Damian had mentioned that he had an older sibling that he didn't give much importance to.

"Oops, sorry. You okay, kiddo?" you asked him kindly

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I should apologize. I didn't see where I was going" the young man apologized

"I see you're lost, these hallways of the mansion aren't that frequented" you commented

"Really? And what are you doing here then?"

"My room is over here" you commented

"Ah..." He didn't know what to say

"You must be the new kid that Bruce adopted, right?"

"Yes, it's me" he nodded

"It's a pleasure, I'm (Name)" you extended your hand to shake it and he took it

He could immediately notice the warmth of your hand, they weren't rough and hard like the hands of others, but he could feel familiarity in your grip. It felt like home.

"Duke" he nodded as he shook your hand

"Well Duke, if you want I can guide you through these halls. It's almost impossible not to get lost in this place" you chuckled

"Yeah... I'd like that" he said with a smile

"Well, then follow me!" you said with a smile as you then guided him through the Manor

From that meeting on, Duke looked for any excuse to go talk to you. He soon discovered that the family didn't show much interest in you, which he couldn't understand why. In a family of vigilantes, being the most normal should be a relief, right? Or at least that's how he saw it, since when he was with you, he felt like he was going back to his old life, without worries or training.

That's why from then on he always waited for the time to be able to go find you.

What a surprise he would get when he saw that you weren't there

Once he entered Wayne Manor, Duke immediately went to look for you in your room only to find it empty. He felt his heart stop for a second.

No... It can't be...

"Alfred!" Duke shouted in search of the butler as he ran to the kitchen and there he saw Alfred who was making food for the Waynes.

"Alfred! Have you seen (Name)? Her room is empty!" the boy spoke quickly

"Yes, I am sorry to have to tell you this Master Duke, but our dear (Name) has left the mansion" informed the butler

"What?! So fast? N-no… They couldn't leave here… Much less without saying goodbye…" he said incredulously

It was like losing his parents all over again.

"They left me a letter in my room. I suppose they left one in yours too Master Duke"

Without saying another word, Duke ran to his room where he found a letter on his bed that had his name on it. He read it and right there (Name) said goodbye to him, thanked him for his company and just like with Alfred, left him the cell phone number of his second phone in case he wanted to talk to them.

"No… It can't be…" said Duke as he let a few tears escape from his eyes

How could he not stop them?

"Please don't cry Master Duke" said a voice from the door of his room. It was Alfred who looked at him with eyes that reflected sorrow and sadness but at the same time determination.

"I know that the departure of Master (Name) was something that hurt you and me" the butler began to speak

"But I assure you that they will return home"

"How Alfred? It was more than obvious that they wanted to leave here" he said between sadness and bitterness "But I don't understand, why did no one in this place pay attention to them? They are a Wayne too"

You were like a refreshing stream for him, you were like a glass of ice water in the middle of a desert.

Why did no one in this damn place notice?

"I couldn't answer that, Master Duke, but what we both know is that the behavior of the members of this family towards (Name) has been unfair and unjustified" Alfred walked towards the young guard and sat next to him

"I spent years waiting for someone else to see how amazing they were, but no one noticed, no one tried to get to know them" he unconsciously closed his hands into fists "And I can say that it was partly my fault, but you came along and finally someone realized what a great person we had in the family"

Alfred turned to look at him and put a hand on his shoulder which he gave a light squeeze.

"And for that same reason that they have such a powerful light, in a place like Gotham it is important to take care of them"

Duke looked at Alfred for a few seconds and then looked at the ground.

He is right. Their light is very bright. He can't let anyone turn it off.

"But… How are you going to do it Alfred? How are you going to get them back? Not even half of the people who live here remember who they are" said the young vigilante irritated

"Don't worry about that Master Duke, but you will have to help me with some things"

Don't worry (Name), you will return home.

Whether you want to or not.

But you will be by their side

It's been 2 weeks since you left Wayne Manor and to be honest… You've never been happier in your life!

Sure, you'd always had a lot of independence but now this independence felt different, it felt more refreshing.

Likewise, college had also been an interesting change from a social and academic point of view since a few years ago you had studied online and life at university was a bit chaotic but you were starting to like it.

You rented your apartment to an old man who owned the building and who kindly let you pay your rent little by little. Inside it were a few pieces of furniture that were already there, however, you gave it some personal touches to feel more at home. But what couldn't be missing were photos of your parents (F/N) and (M/N), Alfred and Duke with you.

You couldn't complain, you were living a true dream.

But live it up and savor it while you can

Because soon you'll lose it all

You were in the kitchen of your apartment making dinner when your phone rang. You picked it up and answered without looking at who it was,

"Hello?" you said as you answered your phone

"Hey (Name)!" a familiar voice greeted you

"Oh, hey Duke!" you said enthusiastically "How have you been? How's school going?"

"Oh been good, lots of homework" he chuckled "I was calling you because I wanted to see you"

"Oh yeah, sure" you nodded "Do you need me for something specific?"

"No no. I just want to see you. I miss you being around the mansion" he admitted

"Aww, you're really sweet Duke but I'm sure you have plenty of company at Wayne Manor" now was your turn to chuckle

"Yeah, they're good company but you're my best confidant and sibling"

You're MY home…

"Okay Duke, if you want we can see each other tomorrow" you proposed

"Sure!" he excited

"Perfect" you giggled at his excitement "How about we meet at the park near downtown Gotham?"

"Okay" he nodded

"Fine, see you tomorrow bro!" you said goodbye to him

"See you tomorrow sibling" he said goodbye before hanging up the call

You smiled just thinking about seeing Duke tomorrow. You couldn't wait to do it.

This was your first mistake. Trusting him.

"It's done Alfred" said Duke from the doorway of the living room

"They agreed to see me tomorrow"

"Okay Master Duke" Alfred nodded and then dusted the furniture again

"Now what?" asked the young man

"Now all that's left is to wait for me to arrive tomorrow and just follow my instructions" the butler commanded

"So… do you think all this is going to work? What if it doesn't?" he asked, half scared and half anxious

Alfred turned to look at the nervous boy and walked towards him. He placed a hand on his shoulder in an assuring manner.

"It's going to work" he assured him "Now go rest, tomorrow you're going to have a busy day"

Duke nodded, still a little unsure, but he didn't say anything else. Then he retired to his bedroom.

When he left Alfred couldn't help but smile a little. Everything was going as he had been planning and although he knew that this plan wasn't going to be to your liking in the least, he was also sure that this was the best for you.

Yes… This was the best thing for you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For you…

For y…

For y…

For them..

For them...

For them...

For him…

This was going to be the best thing for HIM

This was going to bring you home to HIM

His little ray of sunshine

Helloooo. Here it goes the third chapter! I hope you like it and I swear that in the next one the rest of the family will appear, still I would love to heart what do you expect of this work! And even some ideas!

Also I added the people that told me to add them in tag list so if you want to be added please tell me and I will happily add you. And also if I missed someone please tell me as well because I'm a bit blind most of the times and despite being on tumblr for a while now I'm still getting used to using it ":v

So if you liked this chapter please leave a heart and I'll see you on the next one!

-Izadi

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun @profounddestinyrebel @holyfishbailiffpeanut @toast-on-dandelioms @dhanyasri @kiarst @phoenixgurl030 @wpdarlingpan @glitterisname @sackofsadstuff @riddle-me-im-sirius @sirenetheblogger @bat1212 @bluelock4life @revysplacexxx @skz-goose @mistfire1999 @vanessa-boo @tatsuri-zomushiki @kore-of-the-underworld @milliu @lee-bits @ch1cky-093

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

note: uhhh... angst, fluff,, face fucking/freaky sex (period sex) LOL .... nothing too crazy but it's def intimate. jus wanted to let u guys know part 20 is the 'epilogue' for the plotline ,, the continuation will go on from part 21-25,,, (onwards if i have more drafts) but that's all i have planned for now !!! thank u so much for reading along,,, it's truly been a pleasure to be loved and seen by u all <3 much love !!

୨ৎ playlist ୨ৎ

war - keshi ; you always got something you wanna prove / and i've got nothing left to lose / don't know what we're fighting for / i'm tired of going back and forth

intro (end of the world) - ariana ; i'd rather tell the truth than to make it worse for you / if the sun refuse to shine / baby, would i still be your lover? / would you want me there? / if the moon went dark tonight / and if it all ended tomorrow / would i be the one on your mind?

labyrinth - taylor swift ; uh oh, i'm falling in love / oh no, i'm falling in love again

//

that day.

when someone who loves you more than life itself proposes, you say yes. 

that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

you’re supposed to kiss, plan the wedding, get married, and live happily ever after. it’s supposed to work out. it’s supposed to. 

yet, there you stood in front of the love of your life and a ring between you two. silent, eyes flickering back and forth from his to the ring. your gaze traces the cut and falls in love with how the diamonds shine. the band is the perfect thickness and there is nothing more you want in the world than to put it on. 

you know what to say. 

the words are right there, waiting on the tip of your tongue. so easy to speak out, so tempting to do… but with every breath and exchanged look with jungkook, there’s something inside you that stops you. you search as fast as you can, running through your mind with the leftover excuses and justifications of why it’s still a no. 

then, your mind stops spinning the moment you realize; it’s just not the right time. at least, right now isn’t. 

it’s not that simple to understand and accept. you, yourself, have a difficult time figuring out why you can’t just live and be happy. why you can’t accept the proposal right now since you believe in jungkook so much… perhaps, the best way to put it is; it’s stormy. there’s fog, the rain is pouring, and it’s cold. you know the storm won’t last forever. the sky will clear soon… but it’s not now. right now, the storm needs to calm.

only time can do so. 

only time can bring the calm.

so, you answer jungkook with a heavy heart but a clear mind. 

“can i have some time? please, jungkook…” 

his shoulders drop, but his heart feels more than ready to wait. why? because contrary to popular belief, the world didn’t end when you didn’t answer jungkook’s proposal.

who was he to deny you of some time? both of you knew the real issue wasn’t whether you loved him—it was everything wrapped around it.

he gives you until the end of the week to make your choice.

jungkook fills the next 3 days with clingy text messages and random visits to your place. each day, he makes playful comments about how he’s packing up and doesn’t know where to put his things... should he drop them off at your place or ship them to new york.

you roll your eyes and ask, “are you staying there forever?”

in response, he huffs cheekily and says, “only if you break my heart.”

the truth is, you could never do it.

you could never break his heart.

it’s too precious.

it’s quite literally half of yours.

after he proposed and granted you time, the two of you talked about how the week should go. yes, you would give your answer eventually, but more importantly, the focus should be on zion. he’s the center of your relationship, and your decision shouldn’t change the fact that you’re both his parents.

which brings us to now...

sitting in the back of zion’s daycare room with your phone out, more than ready to capture the upcoming moments. but as excited as you are, a nervous buzz hums beneath your skin. maybe it’s just a mom thing. watching your son grow and take part in these little social moments moves you in ways you never expected.

“honey, why are we sitting so far away—”

“oh, you made it!”

“i wouldn't miss this for the world,” jungkook smiles, rushing to your side. he leans in and kisses your cheek, the warmth of his lips sending a comforting flutter through you. settling beside you, he glances at the classroom filled with eager children. “hi mama. is it his turn yet?”

you nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. “is it weird we’re here during their circle time? like, are we controlling parents? we could’ve just asked for a video to be sent to us—”

“next, we have zion sharing—oh, wow! friends, it looks like zion brought so many toys to show and tell for us today… maybe he can pick just one to present?” zion’s teacher announces, patting his back and helping him open the bag.

your cheeks flush with a blend of embarrassment. wide eyed, jungkook whispers, “holy fuck, you packed him so much shit—“

“shhh! what was i supposed to do? he couldn’t decide, and i didn’t want his first show and tell to be something he wouldn’t remember!” you playfully shove jungkook, who chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“you spoil him too much.”

“says the father that buys his 3-year-old stussy clothing and calvin klein underwear.” you bite.

jungkook shrugs and tilts his head. “dilf behaviour, i don’t know.”

his reply makes you laugh. then, you both turn your attention and watch zion bend over and shuffle through the bag. his small hands search for the perfect item, only revealing he’s found it through a big smile. when he finally makes his choice, the teacher smiles brightly and helps him retrieve a photo from the depths of the bag.

“friends, today zion wants to share a family photo!” she announces, handing the photo to him. zion beams with pride as he holds it up, encouraged to walk around the circle to show everyone. when he notices you and jungkook in the back, his giggle fills the room.

the family photo he chose to share is one of you, jungkook, and zion in bed. zion is 2 years old in the photo with bedhead. it’s his birthday. there’s a cake and a sleepy smile on his face while you and jungkook have paper party hats on, both cheek to cheek with zion. 

you should’ve seen this coming.

of course zion picked this. his favourite memory in his entire 3 years of living is when he woke up in bed and had birthday cake for breakfast. you all look so happy. 

“guys, look! that’s my mommy and my daddy!” he exclaims, pointing excitedly.

suddenly, all twenty pairs of wide eyes turn toward you and jungkook, and you can’t help but laugh awkwardly, waving at the children. “hi friends,” you say softly. “i’m zion’s mommy, and this is zion’s daddy—”

“daddy bought mommy a new car!” zion adds proudly, his voice echoing in the small space. “can i show and tell the car? is it outside mommy—oh! and he bought her a ring too! it’s so big! like a rock—”

a few children burst into laughter, while others shout out eager questions. just then, one little girl runs up to you, her eyes wide with curiosity. “zion, where is the ring?” she asks, looking up at you with innocent expectation.

zion shrugs, clearly unfazed. “at home,” he replies. “mommy always puts it on and then takes it off. on off, on off, on and off!”

“is your daddy rich?” one child shouts out. 

“my mommy is richer.” zion says proudly. “she’s a lawyer.”

“what’s your daddy’s job?” 

zion shrugs. “i don’t know. he always looks at art on his computer. daddy, what’s your job?”

jungkook chuckles. “i’m a visual director for advertisement.”

“yeah, okay. that.” zion nods. “... anyways, i want to be a lawyer like mommy when i grow up.”

your heart skips a beat as jungkook’s lips tighten. you exchange a panicked glance, his brows furrowing as he takes a deep breath, trying to suppress a laugh amid the unexpected attention and embarrassment from the twenty curious kids.

zion’s teacher gently guides his friend back to the circle, asking zion questions like, “how does this photo make you feel?” “where was this photo taken?” and “why did you choose to share this photo?”

zion, beaming with pride, answers one of the three questions. 

“i wanted to show and tell this photo because i love my family. mommy always kisses my booboos and daddy always makes me pancakes. i love it when we sleep in the same bed and they tickle me in the morning… i think they tickled me here too! and i love it when i'm sick and they buy me lollipops... oh, and i love my daddy because he teached me my abcs...” he says, nodding his head with determination. “but also, i love my mommy more than daddy because i just do.”

the other children burst into laughter, their voices mixing in a delightful cacophony of familial love. some shout out their own preferences, choosing sides between mommy and daddy. you can’t help but chuckle at their innocence. jungkook claps, his laughter joining yours, and together you send zion an enthusiastic thumbs up, a shared pride swelling in your chests as you watch him bask in the attention.

when the circle ends, zion’s teacher insist you two stay for a bit and observe zion with the children. you and jungkook spare 10 extra minutes before needing to leave for work. before you leave, you pick up zion and give him a tight hug. 

“i can’t believe you chose us over your toys, my love! that was so speical to us, z!” you exclaim, showering him with kisses on his cheeks and neck. he giggles, jumping in your arms.

“because i love you, mommy—”

“hello?” jungkook cuts in, scooping zion from your arms. “daddy is here too... say you love daddy too…”

zion nods. “okay, i love daddy too. i love mommy more—h-hey”

jungkook also attacks zion with kisses and tickles, their laughter filling the room. when the moment ends, he puts zion down and ruffles his hair. you and jungkook bid him goodbye, promising to come back for pickup in a few hours.

tonight you two plan on celebrating the fact that you and jungkook—despite all the distress and separation—made it known to zion that you are family no matter what.

he is loved no matter what and he is chosen above all else.

which is why this is so special to you and jungkook—

zion chose you two.

for dinner, you and jungkook decide to cook together. 

you two haven’t done this in almost a year. usually, it’s one or the other. tonight, it was special… and for important reasons, zion requested a cake. you and jungkook grant it under the condition that he entertains himself with his toys while you and jungkook cook. 

jungkook takes over with the prep as you begin to cook the meal together. he teases you a few times, joking that the food is burning. before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you and helping you cook. 

it's crazy, isn't it? you would think that jungkook would be sore loser when it comes to rejection... but since it technically wasn’t rejection; he's soaking these moments up. any and every moment with you—he's taking.

“is this really a two person job?”

“mhmm,” jungkook says, sneaking a kiss on your neck. “you know what else is a two person job?”

you tilt your face and squint at him. 

he mimics your expression before pecking your lips. 

“focus on cooking. i know it’s hard with me being this handsome and my big ass dick—”

“shut up.”

“yes honey.”

the rest of the evening slips by in a blur.

the dinner is simple but comforting, the kind that fills your heart as much as your stomach. laughter bounces around the table, mixing with the quiet clinking of plates and the warmth of home. after the meal, the three of you gather to cut the cake, zion’s small hands eager as he grabs his slice. it doesn’t take him long to devour it, chocolate smeared across his cheeks and lips. before you can reach for a napkin, he’s off—bolting toward the living room with that familiar burst of energy.

jungkook chases after him, laughter trailing in their wake, filling the space even after they've left. you excuse yourself, slipping away to the bathroom, the echoes of their voices lingering in the hall.

when you return, you pause at the doorway, the sight before you making your heart melt. your boys—your entire world—are sprawled out on the carpet, toys scattered around them in a beautiful mess. zion’s baby trash talk fills the room, his little hands batting at jungkook’s as they wrestle in the softest, silliest way. it’s these moments that make time stop, where everything feels so perfect it almost hurts.

"what do you love the most about mommy?" jungkook asks, his voice playful but curious, pulling zion close until their noses nearly touch.

zion scrunches up his face, clearly deep in thought, but you know him too well—he’s stalling. "umm... i don't know. she's pretty."

jungkook raises a brow, amused. "yeah, she is... but you pick her over me any chance you get and you don’t know?"

zion shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "yeah... i love mommy because i just do." then his face lights up as if he’s stumbled upon a great revelation. "but also because she buys me better toys than you..."

jungkook’s laughter rumbles through the room, shaking his head. "i think my favorite thing is how hard she works for our family."

zion’s head tilts, curious. "cos she’s a lawyer?"

"yeah," jungkook agrees, then his voice softens. "but also because she loves us a lot. she does so much to make sure we’re fed, loved, and somehow always on time. you know, z, i’ve loved mommy for a while now... i can’t wait to love her for even longer. you think she’s gonna marry me?"

zion thinks about it for a second, then shrugs again. "maybe."

"maybe?" jungkook gasps, feigning panic. "you're supposed to be on my side!"

zion's laughter explodes as jungkook attacks him with tickles, his tiny body squirming beneath jungkook’s strong arms. the sound of their laughter fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making your chest tighten with an emotion you can’t even name. it’s love, yes, but it’s more than that—it’s contentment.

the kind that comes from seeing your entire heart laid out in front of you, scattered in toys and giggles and moments too precious to capture fully.

you step into the scene, quietly noticing how zion’s eyelids have begun to droop, a yawn escaping his small lips. jungkook notices too, his eyes flicking to the clock before he decides it's time to get zion ready for bed. surprisingly, zion doesn’t argue this time. instead, he bounds toward the bathroom, his energy fading but still there in the way only a child can manage.

as jungkook jogs past you, he smacks your ass, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he chases after zion. you huff in mock annoyance but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. there’s a lightness to it all, a warmth that settles deep in your bones, and even as you start tidying up the scattered toys and cluttered living room, you feel that fullness.

by the time you finish, jungkook and zion are still in the bathroom, their voices muffled by the sound of running water and sleepy giggles. you head to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate, as you begin washing the dishes, the weight of the day catching up with you. but even through the exhaustion, all you feel is love. it's in the quiet moments, in the laughter, in the way your home feels more alive when the two of them are near.

it's everything.

it always has been.

as you stand by the sink, hands submerged in warm soapy water as you scrub the dinner plates; you can’t help but think about today. 

today was good. 

after you and jungkook left zion’s daycare, you had to get back to the firm. jungkook insisted on driving you, but you brought your car too. instead, you asked him to walk you to your car. happily, he does so. when you two got to your car, you opened the trunk and gave him a gift bag. 

“what’s this?”

“open it.”

“an umbrella?”

“use it.”

he laughed, kissed you, and uttered against your lips; “we’re so not over.”

then, you two parted ways. 

as you wash the dishes, you think back to it.

how his hands were placed around your waist as you two walked out of the daycare. how he kisses you whenever his eyes fall onto your lips. how he laces your fingers together every chance he gets. how he shows up as zion’s father despite all the shit you throw at him… it’s everything to you. 

he’s a good man. 

your mind begins to wander as you think of all the things you want to say to him but can’t. things you’ve kept tucked away, hidden beneath the day-to-day rhythm of life. you think about the moments when everything felt too heavy, when the world seemed to close in on you, and all you wanted was him. 

in the depth of your misery, all you could think of was crawling to him—slipping into his arms, burying your face against his chest, and letting the weight of everything fall away as you cried your heart out.

you wanted to ask him to fix it, to take the burden from you like he always could, as if his love alone had the power to make everything right again.

because love... love should be enough, right? 

in your heart, you know that’s all you’ve ever wanted from him. for the love between you two to be enough to overcome the exhaustion, the stress, the compromises...

you’ve built so much together—beautiful things, a life, a family—but in the quiet moments, you still find yourself wishing it could just be about the two of you again. before the responsibilities, before you had to be anything more than his and him yours.

you imagine a different version of this life (not that you want it. you wouldn’t trade zion for the world). one where you’re still young, where the only thing you have to worry about is each other. no careers pulling you in opposite directions—no complications that need constant juggling or guilt. just him and you, lost in that simple, intoxicating love you both fell into so easily.

if it were like that, you know you’d choose him in a heartbeat. without hesitation, without the doubt that sometimes creeps in when the days get too long. you still would choose him, even now, with all that’s at stake.

because the truth is, you always choose him. 

you choose him in every quiet glance, in every tired smile at the end of a long day. you choose him when he makes you laugh, when he frustrates you, when he softens just enough for you to see that vulnerable part of him he hides from the rest of the world.

and even when things get hard, when life feels overwhelming, and you're standing on the edge of that misery, you still want him. you want him beside you, even if love isn’t always enough to fix everything. because, deep down, you know that with him, it’s enough to keep going.

and maybe that’s what matters most. 

not that love can fix everything, but that it's the reason you keep trying.

but it’s different now in the sense that you have more things to consider. zion, the people around you, your careers, and your own desires. how do you do this? how do you love him and give him everything but at the same time; do it for yourself too?

every day for the past 9 months felt like war. like you had to constantly choose one or the other. 

marriage or new york.

why can’t you have both? 

maybe that’s the answer. 

as jungkook finishes putting zion to bed, the quiet creak of the floorboards announcing his presence behind you. without saying a word, he picks up a dish towel and starts drying the clean plates, his shoulder brushing against yours gently.

"so... i was thinking," he starts casually, “maybe we should start planning for these 3 months. you know, like, zion’s schedule, dinners... that kind of stuff.”

you sigh softly, rinsing a glass. "we’ve got time," you mutter, brushing it off without meeting his gaze. "it doesn’t have to happen right now."

jungkook pauses, drying his hands before leaning against the counter. "i just think we should be prepared," he says, his tone still light but with a hint of seriousness creeping in. “i know you still have time left, but i’m not so sure our plans do—”

“what do you mean our plans? jungkook, you’re not taking zion—” you place the glass in the drying rack, feeling the pressure of the upcoming separation tightening in your chest. "we don’t have to plan every single moment, jungkook. why do you always do this? we have time."

“we have 4 days.”

“4 is plenty.”

“is it?” jungkook asks, voice shaking. “is it easy for you, ___? going back and forth, putting the ring on and off… telling me i can’t make plans—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“what do you mean, then?”  

the room feels charged with tension as jungkook’s gaze hardens. he can see the conflict written all over your face, the way your shoulders tense and your hands move a little faster. "___, i just want us to be ready," he insists, his voice softening. "we need to figure out how to make this work."

you turn to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. 

"no. it's not easy for me, jungkook. it’s scary as hell when you do this,” you snap. “planning the rest of our life together when we’re only just recovering from the one we lost. i’m scared that if we make plans and start over—we might lose again." your word slip out before you can filter them.

“lose what? we don’t have to have another baby until we’re ready. until you’re ready—”

“it’s not that,” you bite your inner cheeks. “well, it’s a part of it… but what if i do it again? what if i lose myself and lose you? what if i fuck up too much the next time around and you don’t come back? everything we’ve built—us… i… fuck, what if you don’t fight for us because i burned everything down—”

“you won’t.”

“jungkook—”

he huffs. “___, you’re not wildfire, you’re hearth. you’re the reason this all feels like home. yeah, you’ve got heat, but it’s the kind that pulls people closer, not pushes them away. you don’t ruin, you ignite. you’re the reason we’re still burning bright. i burn for you."

you tighten your lips. “have you been watching bridgeton?”

“i’m trying here—”

you kiss him. 

he chases your lips as you pull away.

“i trust you. it’s myself i’m still unsure about. it’s getting better but it just freaks me out when you plan ahead… i used to look forward to those moments, you know? now it feels complicated.”

jungkook nods, bringing his hands to your face. he fixes your hair and looks into your eyes. “honey, even if the flames get high, we’ll handle them together. and if it burns, then fine—then we can slow dance in the burning room. you don’t just burn, you keep me warm. you make everything brighter, stronger. don’t think for a second that i’d let you lose yourself to the fire. i need you. you’re my warmth. you’re the light of my life, ___."

you pout, completely in awe of his words. 

jungkook then leans in and just when he’s about to kiss you, he murmurs; “so are you marrying me or what?” 

his words catch her off guard. as you open your mouth to retort, the teasing glint in his eyes makes you pause. for a moment, you’re defensive, but then the corners of her mouth twitch upward against her will.

“don’t be a coward,” jungkook says. “you’re a million things to me. don’t be that.”

“coward?” you scoff, trying to keep your tone light, as you push away from him. “you think i’m a coward?”

“well, you’re avoiding the tough stuff,” jungkook replies, his playful tone breaking through the tension. “... and we both know you’re tougher than that.”

you can feel the weight of his words settling in, the understanding lingering between you two. the walls of anxiety you built up start to crumble, and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. 

“maybe you’re right.”

he steps closer, nudging her playfully. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it? admitting that i’m right… wanting to marry me—”

“whatever you say, you cocky son of a bitch—”

jungkook chuckles, kissing you to shut up.

by the 4th day, jungkook begins to lose his mind.

the waiting has been unbearable. a slow kind of torture that gnaws at him from the inside out. every passing second feels like he's being pulled apart, suspended in limbo, unsure whether his future will unfold with you by his side or shatter into something unrecognizable. his thoughts go in circles—one moment, he’s convinced you’ll say yes, and the next, a creeping doubt settles in, making his chest feel tight.

he imagines every scenario, every possible response, and the worst part is that there’s no way to know.

he has packed all his belongings into boxes that line the walls of his studio apartment, the space feeling more hollow than it ever has. his game plan is simple: if you say yes, he’ll leave the boxes at your place, move back home, and everything will fall into place. if you say no… well, he’ll burn everything and cry the entire way to new york.

kidding.

(maybe)

realistically, jungkook will bring his things to his parents’ house, regroup, and try to act like he isn’t completely devastated. but even if you say no, there’s no universe where you and him don’t end up together eventually.

he’s sure of it.

there’s a certainty in his heart, a pull that refuses to let him believe otherwise. if it takes time, then so be it.

he’ll propose again and again when he gets back, until you see what he sees—that you’re meant for each other.

by the 6th day, yoongi comes in to bring his boxes.

jungkook spent the past 2 days at work, going over files and preparing documents for new york. it felt like going through the motions, like he was acting out a version of his life that wasn’t real yet. when he steps back into his studio, the air feels stagnant, the packed boxes looming like reminders of the uncertainty ahead.

he finds yoongi slumped over on the couch, lazily typing away on his laptop, his legs sprawled across the cushions as if he’s already made himself at home.

“have you been like that all day?” jungkook asks, toeing off his shoes by the door.

yoongi doesn’t look up. he lets out a wide yawn. “yeah,” he says, stretching. “your new york assistant better be patient as hell with you. you're a bitch sometimes... anyways, i actually moved a few boxes and put my clothes in the closet. oh, and i went out for some coffee.”

jungkook squints at him, making a face. “what? i literally have a nespresso machine.”

yoongi stands up from the couch, his hands sinking into the deep pockets of his sweatpants. he tilts his head slightly, a look of lazy amusement on his face.

“no, you don’t.”

jungkook frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he turns to the kitchen counter, where his nespresso machine has always been, only to find it missing. his heart skips a beat, and he takes a step forward, blinking as if maybe he just missed it somehow.

“what? where’d it go—”

“___ came by and took it,” yoongi says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

jungkook’s mind races, processing the information. “what? why would she take it?” his voice is laced with confusion, but there’s a flicker of something else—a hope he doesn’t dare entertain too much just yet.

yoongi rolls his eyes, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“congratulations on your marriage, jungkook,” he says, twisting the cap off. “now get out of my place. go home.”

jungkook blinks again, his heart pounding as the realization sinks in. you took the nespresso machine.

you took the fucking nespresso machine.

that’s your answer. his chest tightens, but this time it’s not from uncertainty. it’s from the flood of emotions crashing over him—the relief, the joy, the love.

his body moves on autopilot as he starts grabbing things, adrenaline coursing through him. yoongi watches from the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips as he lazily sips his water. “you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath.

jungkook doesn’t hear him.

his mind is already on you.

the wait is over, and he’s finally going home.

jungkook bursts through your door, calling your name, the sound of his voice filled with excitement and urgency.

“___? honey, where are you—”

time seems to stop as the world around you fades away.

as he catches sight of you on the living room floor, laughter bubbling between you and zion, the warm glow of the afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. the ring on your finger catches the light, sparkling as it draws his gaze.

his breath hitches, and his heart feels as if it’s been thrust into a whirlwind—stopping, skipping a beat, and then racing wildly, unable to contain the rush of emotions flooding through him.

it beats for you.

“hi, honey,” you wave him over, your smile radiant and genuine, illuminating the cozy space. “look! zion can count up to thirty now!”

jungkook rushes to your side, the weight of the day lifting with each step. he forgets that yoongi is still with him, his entire focus on you. kneeling beside you, he takes your hand in his, his fingers brushing over the ring—the very symbol of the love and commitment he has always wanted to share with you.

“you’re marrying me?” he asks, disbelief and joy intertwining in his voice. "it's a yes?"

you look at him lovingly, warmth radiating from your gaze—the kind of look that speaks volumes. it’s the same way you’ve always looked at him, but now, there’s an unmistakable depth to it. the courage, the trust, the love shines brighter than ever, enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy.

"i've loved you forever,” you reply, cupping his cheeks with your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “i have things to work on and so do you... but we're gonna do it together, right? cos this was difficult. this was way too difficult... and loving you has always been clear... so, yeah. i'm toughening it out. i'm trusting you and i'm not going to burn this to the ground. jungkook, you’re the only one i love in this world. you’re the only one who understands me. i fought so many wars in my mind to be with you—it has to be you.”

as jungkook’s lips curve into a radiant smile, a surge of emotion wells up within him. he leans in, capturing you in a kiss filled with promise and passion, pulling zion into a hug, enveloping you both in the warmth of his love. laughter bubbles up, mingling with happy tears as he holds you two close, the room echoing with the sweet sound of family and joy.

“oh my god,” he cries, the happiness spilling over. “i can’t believe this. okay, i’m going to get my stuff and—”

“yoongi?” you call, and he raises his hand, responding as if it were all part of a well-rehearsed script.

“wanna have a sleepover at uncle yoongi’s place? we should give mommy and daddy some privacy, huh?” he explains, scooping zion up into his arms and tickling him, making the little one giggle uncontrollably.

“can we eat ice cream before bed?” zion asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“duh!” yoongi replies with a grin.

“yoongi—”

“my son, my rules,” yoongi hushes you playfully. he puts zion down, urging him to say goodbye to you both, and they exchange sweet kisses before you point to the kitchen counter where zion’s overnight bag sits. yoongi picks it up and holds zion’s hand as they leave.

the moment settles around you and jungkook, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder and concern.

“you said yes,” he states, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“i did,” you confirm, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“what’s with this vibe, then?”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “jungkook... i still want you to go to new york.”

jungkook tilts his head, his expression shifting to confusion.

“are you guys coming with me?”

you shake your head gently. “no.”

“no?”

you reach for him. he lets you hold his hand. bringing it your lips, you kiss them. “jungkook, i don’t want it to be one or the other. let’s do both, okay? go to new york. let’s get married. both. we do both.” 

“but 3 months?”

“we’ll come and visit!” you suggest, fully meaning to do so. truth be told, you already bought your tickets for the first visit. “i decided to take a leave from work for the rest of the year—why are you looking at me like that?"

"that's huge. are you sure that's what you want?"

you nod. "i want you."

"oh god..."

you laugh. "i want to get this right and i want to be okay. i want to figure it all out and i want to do it with you by my side. so, do this for us…. and 3 months isn’t forever. you’ll be back soon and we’ll be visiting every month. it’s too much of a hassle to move… but i truly want you to go and explore your options. i want you to go knowing that i don’t only love you for who you are and for what you’ll ever be—but i love you so much that i believe in you. in the dreams you have and the dreams i have for you. so, go. go, and when you come back, come back home to us—to me.”

the sincerity in your words wraps around him like a warm embrace, and jungkook feels the weight of your love and belief in him, making him all the more determined to chase after his dreams. he nods slowly, understanding the depth of what you’re offering.

in that moment, everything feels right.

"w-we can’t—" your voice breaks, barely a whisper, trembling with hesitation. your heart is pounding, the room feeling warmer by the second.

“why not?” jungkook’s eyes are wide, pleading, filled with a desire that mirrors your own but with an urgency that’s hard to ignore. his breath fans over your lips, just inches apart.

he’s been kissing you for almost 20 minutes, his lips soft but persistent, his tongue teasing yours in ways that make it impossible to think straight. his hands have long since slipped under your shirt, fingers trailing over your bare skin, sending sparks up your spine.

the heat between you two is overwhelming, consuming. his touch is soft but possessive, his fingertips grazing the edge of your bra as he pulls you closer, pressing you flush against him. you feel his heart racing beneath his chest, a rhythm that matches your own.

every inch of you craves him, craves more.

“i want you,” his voice is a low, husky whisper, filled with need. his hands move slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every reaction. “i want all of you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, your resolve weakening with every second. he looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever... and you have too.

the tension between you two has been building for so long, the unspoken feelings bubbling under the surface, waiting to explode.

his lips find your neck, pressing soft, heated kisses there, and you arch into him, your breath hitching. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your body betraying the protests on your lips. every touch, every kiss, makes it harder to think, harder to hold onto the reasons why you shouldn’t.

you can feel how much he wants you, the way his hands tighten their grip on your waist, the way he presses himself harder against you, his need undeniable. his lips move back to yours, capturing them in a deep, searing kiss that leaves you breathless. and in that moment, it’s like nothing else matters but him, but this.

you’ve never felt anything like this—so intense, so consuming.

“i’m on my period.”

jungkook bites his bottom lip. 

“so?”

“i think i’m gonna be more sensitive and it's gonna be so messy—”

“are you okay with being more sensitive? we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to.” he insist, putting you first. your eyes flicker to his cock, poking through his jeans. "and mess is just mess. we can clean it up."

“i want to,” you say. “should we just put a towel underneath?” 

he nods, getting up from your bed and out the hall to the linen closet. there, he picks the thicket towel and hurries back to your room. he bends over and places the towel on your spot. you get up to go to the bathroom and freshen up as he prepares. 

when you get back, jungkook is already naked. he grabs you by the waist and pins you down on the bed. 

“let me suck your dick first.”

jungkook gulps. 

“actually, c-can i.. can i fuck your tits first?”

you laugh, puckering up for him. he leans over and kisses you. against the kiss, you answer him; “whatever you want, honey.”

with that, jungkook sets himself on top and places his cock in between your boobs. his cock is bigger than ever. you take it with two hands, pumping him slowly and adding some pressure to it. he throws his head back, hissing at the perfection of your touch.

“f-fuck…”

then, you let go and hold your boobs together. jungkook then begins to pump himself in between. the tip of his cock pokes out every so often, causing him to pant at the sight. you lower your chin, opening your mouth for his cock to enter it. jungkook takes the hint and shoves his dick inside. 

you suck on it.

twirling your tongue around and playing with his tip—jungkook just might combust. you breathe through your nose as he begins to fuck your mouth. he can’t help it and you wouldn’t want it any other way. jungkook fucks your mouth in a desperate and almost brutal way. god, did he need this. 

he loves this. 

jungkook places his hands against the wall to help his stability. as he pulls himself out, you hold his cock with your two hands and continue to give him a handjob. he loses his breath for a second when he looks down and sees you drag your tongue around his hard cock. 

he moans, eyes shut and the feeling of the pit of his stomach twisting. 

“g-gonna cum—fuck, fuck, fuck!” jungkook chants.

you suck his dick more intensely. taking in every inch of him and tiring your inner cheeks out—he finally cums inside your mouth. 

pulls out, you don’t let go. you continue to pump his length and kiss it. 

jungkook feels like he’s going insane. he moves his body and matches to your eye level. he kisses you, tasting a bit of himself. 

“thank you.”

“any time, daddy.”

“oh god—”

you laugh. 

jungkook wipes the cum that spilled outside of your mouth with his thumb and shoves it in your mouth. you suck it clean. 

“do you want me to eat you out?”

“that’s nasty!” you cry, hating the idea. “just put it in.”

jungkook smirks. “no prep?”

“aren’t i wet already?”

he ignores you and fixes your position. he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him. jungkook then places himself on top of you and his cock in between your legs. he parts your folds, looking down at your bloody entrance.

“ready?”

you nod, lacing your hands together around his neck. he lets out a breathy moan as he sinks himself inside you. 

you wince. 

“f-fuck, should i pull out?”

you shake your head. “n-no.”

“does it hurt?”

“yeah.”

he lowers his head, placing kisses on your neck and collarbone. “sorry, mama.”

“why are you so fucking big?” you hiss, feeling his thickness push inside you even more. your body jolts and he chuckles. 

“that big?”

“mhmm,” you agree, closing your eyes to help regulate the burning feeling in between your legs. “j-just keep going. think it’s better when you—oh, f-fuck. yeah. like t-that, daddy. s-so nghhh, f-fuck. so good.”

“you like that, mama?” jungkook asks, pumping himself inside and out of you deeper and deeper. “fuck, you’re so tight. so fucking tight. can we do this again next month?”

"oh my god!"

you hit his shoulders and he laughs. 

it’s not long before your arms wrap around him. you drag your nails against his skin, digging deep as he fucks you. 

jungkook rests his forehead against yours. there, he watches as you make fuck me eyes at him, and as you wince and gasp between each thrust. your arms move up, holding onto his shoulders. 

then, you feel it. 

the tingle in between your legs and the tightness that follows. jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and you feel it like never before. 

wrapped in his warmth, your heart swells with a love that feels like a tsunami—overwhelming and unstoppable. it’s a powerful wave that crashes over, rising higher with every shared look, every gentle touch. you can feel it building inside me, a rush of emotions that surges forth like water cascading from a great height, and you’re completely swept away.

you’re done for.

the intimacy of this moment is everything. his pants and murmurs of ‘i love you’s echo in your ears, and the way he looks at you with light in his eyes make your heart race like never before. 

it makes you want to cry. 

you’ve known and felt loved by jungkook before. for a long time now actually… but never like this. never has it ever felt this raw and real. 

never has it ever felt this consuming. 

it engulfs you, leaving me breathless yet exhilarated. in this moment, everything else fades away. there are no worries, no doubts—just you and jungkook suspended in time, hearts beating in sync. you can feel the tide of your feelings, crashing and receding, drawing me closer to him with each pulse.

as you gaze into his eyes, you realize that this love isn’t just a fleeting moment in time. 

it’s endless. 

uh oh. 

i’m falling in love. 

you want to surrender to it completely. to be swept away in the depths of our intimacy. with jungkook, there’s a promise of haven in chaos and as the waves of love continue to swell, you know that you’re more than ready to embrace every moment. 

to let this tsunami carry you wherever it may lead.

“fuck, ___… a-are you crying? i’m sorry. i’ll—”

you hold onto him. 

uh oh.

i’m falling in love again.

eyes burning with your tears, heart lighter than ever. 

“i love you, jungkook.”

“i love you too, mama.”

jungkook kisses you, continuing to ask if you’re okay. you assure him you are and that period sex is a lot more emotional than you expected it to be. it’s not freaky—it’s just a fucking moment. he continues to fuck you, digging in deeper and deeper. 

you think to yourself; no one will ever know me the way he does. 

no one will ever love me and want me as wholeheartedly as he does… for that, you’re grateful and fall in love with the closeness everything has brought you two. 

you lose yourself to him.

he carries you through 3 more orgasms before helping you up from bed, starting you and bath, and cleaning you. together, you two sit in the bathtub and hold each other. you two talk about the plans that you have and what to expect during the next 3 months. 

as you lay next to jungkook, his soft breathing fills the quiet room. his body sinks deeper into sleep. you feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours, his arm draped loosely over your waist, pulling you closer. the warmth of his skin against yours, the weight of him in the stillness—it all feels like home.

the world outside could be moving a million miles an hour, but here, with him, time seems to slow down, just for the two of you.

yet, something stirs within you, a reminder of a truth you’ve held onto for years—time doesn’t stop for broken hearts. it never has, it never will. yet, it always seems to move a little slower when love slips through your fingertips—when it’s about him.

something you’ve always known about loving jungkook is that he fears the end. he’s never been good with losing people or things, never able to fully let go. he loves and lives like he’s running out of time, even though he isn’t. but that’s what makes him so different, so captivating—he loves in full force. he loves with his entire heart... and he loves with all his time.

as his breaths even out, you stay awake, thoughts swirling around you. you realize how long it took to get here, how many battles you fought—most of them with yourself.

pride had been a constant companion, keeping you at arm's length from the very love you craved. there were moments where you couldn’t imagine letting yourself be this vulnerable, this open. loving him meant risking the one thing you protected the most—your heart.

but somewhere along the way, you let that pride slip away, piece by piece. maybe it was the way he looked at you, the way he never let go, no matter how many times you tried to push him away. maybe it was realizing that you didn’t have to be so strong all the time, that with him, you didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone. the moment you put pride aside, everything shifted—time, love, and life all started falling into place.

you’ve both waited for this.

for the space to just be with each other without the weight of past mistakes or the fear of losing what you’d built. now, time feels like it’s on your side. for so long, it seemed like you were always too late or too soon, like everything was just out of reach. but here, in this moment, with his warmth wrapping around you, you know you’ve finally caught up to where you were meant to be.

he stirs a little, tightening his arm around you as he shifts closer. a soft smile tugs at your lips, the kind of smile that only comes when you realize that all the walls you’d built were finally down. you’ve let go of the need to protect yourself from him, because you know now that loving him is worth more than holding onto pride.

the first light of morning spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. jungkook wakes slowly, his sleepy eyes finding yours, a lazy grin spreading across his face. in that moment, without either of you needing to say a word, you both know—time isn’t something to fear anymore.

it’s finally yours.

“coffee?” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

"coffee."

you move together, the rhythm of your morning routine as easy and familiar as breathing. side by side, you make coffee, the smell of it filling the kitchen, your hands brushing as you pass him his cup.

and as you stand there, cups in hand, you feel a quiet sense of peace. the pride that once kept you from this moment is gone, and in its place is something stronger—trust, love, and the certainty that no matter what time brings, you’ll face it together.

whether it's the beginning or the end;

you and jungkook are timeless.