#everything feels like the end of the world

[goosewriting]

The Aftermath

summary: reader visits Joaquín at the hospital as he wakes up from surgery.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, mention and description of injuries and medical procedures, mention of accident and explosions, brief mentions of PTSD from events in Infinity War/Endgame, self-doubts and guilt

word count: 2.2k

A/N: i started writing this the moment i came home from watching BNW. can't believe it took me this long to write for him,, he's been rotating in my mind ever since tfantws <3 we really need more fics for joaquín, he’s so blorbo coded like cmon!! 🥹🥹 if you have any recs pls send them my way!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Sitting by Joaquín’s hospital bed, you bring your hands to your face as you remember his accident on the Indian Ocean. You had watched the broadcast in horror, your heart in your throat as his figure fell from the sky into the open water. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but remember the video from all those years ago, where you saw how Rhodey had fallen as well, like a rock, everyone watching, unable to do anything to stop him. Just like War Machine, Joaquín had turned uncontrollably on his descent, one of his wings ripped from the suit by the missile exploding right in his face.

You’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit since a little before the battle against Thanos on Wakanda, where you had also fought with everyone, but then got blipped. The transition back to society with a gap of 5 years had been very hard on you, and while you stayed in contact with everyone who remained, helping out whenever you could, you didn’t really have it in you to go back out to the battlefield. Even after all this time, you still have nightmares about the snap and the Battle for Earth. 

Bringing your hands back into your lap, you let out a trembling breath, clinging onto the constant soft beeping of the machinery to tether yourself to reality and not fall down a spiral of despair. Every time your eyes roam over Joaquín’s injuries, you close your eyes, pressing the base of your hands over them, then open them again. Your sight is momentarily sprinkled with dots, and as it clears, you hope for everything to have been a horrible nightmare. But once your view clears up, he’s still there. Unconscious. Hurt.

The surgery he’d been in last night had felt like it was never going to end. Still, you had stayed the whole time, and once he got out, you stayed at his side. 

It’s been several hours since Joaquín got wheeled into his room, the head medic saying he was still unconscious but stable. You shift in the armchair by the bed where you sit. One of the nurses brought you something to eat earlier since you refused to leave, the wrapper of your sandwich still in your hands as your eyes start feeling heavier and heavier, and you can’t find it in yourself to fight the welcome embrace of sleep, slowly spreading through your limbs. You’ve almost completely dozed off when you hear a groan, and immediately your grogginess dissipates. You straighten up in your seat, the wrapper falling to the floor as you scoot closer to the bed, tears stinging behind your eyes. How you still have tears left, you have no idea, given how much you’ve cried in the past hours, terrified of losing the love of your life. 

Joaquín blinks several times, scrunching his face, eyes trying to adapt to the light. He lifts his good arm, looking at the tubes attached to it, and his gaze roams the room and down his body, face contorting in pain lightly. Then his eyes land on you, and his face immediately softens.

“Hey, there,” he croaks out. 

“You’re awake,” you whisper, holding his hand in your trembling ones. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”

“Pfft, it’ll take more than a meagre explosion to defeat the Falcon,” he retorts with a pained smile.

Normally you’d laugh at his jokes, enjoying his silly side, but right now you have no humour left in you. Another wave of tears rolls down your cheeks, and his smile vanishes.

“Please don’t joke about that,” you plead, giving his hand a squeeze. “You were hit by a freaking missile. From a fighter jet. While up in the air between two armies about to start a war with each other.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” He sighs. 

There’s a moment of silence where you again study his bruised face, your gaze landing on the massive burn covering his whole shoulder, streaks of red raw skin visible on his jaw and throat. Your brows furrow in frustration.

“I should have been there,” you mumble, angry at yourself for letting this happen.

“What?” he asks, craning his neck to fully look at you.

“I should have gone with you,” you say, bringing your eyes to look up at him. “Then I could have helped and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Joaquín exhales through his nose in disbelief.

“We were in the air, and I went head to head with the missile even after Sam told me to back off,” he retorts, shaking his head. “There was nothing you could have done.”

His tone isn’t scolding; he’s telling the truth and you know it. Still, you can’t help but feel like the outcome could have been different, if you had just been better, braver. You try to choke back a sob, unsuccessful, and his hold tightens around your hand.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He speaks your name softly. “This isn’t on you. Please don’t cry.”

You grimace, biting the inside of your cheek.

“For a moment I thought you died, Joaquín. I was so scared,” you say with a shaky breath, bringing his hand to your face, and he cups your cheek. You place your hand over his, holding onto it and leaning into his touch like it was the last time you could hold him like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

Your heart shatters at the thought that even after getting hurt, after getting blown up, he’s the one apologising to you. He’s about to add something when the door opens and a nurse comes in. You back off a bit and hastily wipe your face with the back of your sleeves as she does some check-ups, both on Joaquín and the machines, taking some notes on her clipboard. She then takes one of the tubes attached to his arm, and places a syringe at the other end.

“What’s that?” you ask, suspicious. She gives you a quick look with a raised brow, but when she sees the state you’re in, her face relaxes again.

“Painkillers and antibiotics. He’ll need both of them,” she explains.

It doesn’t take long for the fluids to reach Joaquín’s blood system, and he visibly relaxes against the pillows and closes his eyes.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he sighs, and the nurse chuckles softly. You still can’t get yourself to let go of your worry. Once she’s done with everything, she leaves the way she came, exiting the room. As the door closes behind her, your eyes land on the wrapper on the floor, and you pick it up with a sniffle, crumpling it up further.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?” you ask as you throw the trash into the bin from where you sit, to your surprise making the shot. He doesn't answer, eyes still closed.

“Joaquín?” you ask softly, not wanting to wake him in case he fell asleep again.

“Huh? Wha?” His eyes open and he turns to look at you, his face visibly relaxed now.

“You okay?” You take his hand again, and he gives you a squeeze.

“Hmm-mm,” he hums with a nod, blinking slowly as he tries to focus on your face. “I just think I’m… kinda high right now.”

That’s when you finally break, unable to hold back an endeared chuckle, shaking your head. Joaquín’s eyes are filled with warmth and then concern as they land on your face, brows furrowing as if he just noticed something. His hand comes up to wipe away the remaining streak of tears. He also playfully pinches your cheek for good measure, eliciting another smile of yours.

“That’s better,” he concludes, a smile spreading on his face as well. The smile that could light up any room he’s in, in your humble opinion. 

You prop your elbow onto the edge of the bed, head in your hands as you look at him, and he looks back at you with a silly grin. The beeps on the machine speed up a bit, and you look up at the screen, then back at him with a brow raised in amusement.

“Usually you can’t tell because I’m smooth as hell, but it’s true,” he notes, like a huge secret was just uncovered. “You still make my heart race.”

Heat prickles on your cheeks at his words and you avert your gaze with a snort. As long as your heart is still beating, you think, remembering that they had to resuscitate him after the accident, but you shake those thoughts away, preferring to focus on the fact that he’s still here, alive.

“I know that the moment you’re back on your feet, you’ll be out there again, suited up,” you start after a moment, shooting him a serious look. “So I won’t ask you to stop. But promise me to be more careful next time?”

“Pinky promise.” Joaquín lifts his hand, fingers curled except for his pinky, and you can’t help but chuckle as you mirror his gesture, curling your finger around his. He shakes your hand like that side to side for a bit, then drops it back down onto the bed. A strand of hair falls into his face as he leans back, and you brush it back, caressing over his bruised cheekbone gingerly. 

“When was the last time you slept?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmm.” You look at the timestamp on the muted TV in the corner, currently playing some movie or other. It’s only then that you realise you’ve been intermittently awake for almost two full days now. “Can’t really remember,” you lie.

“You need to rest. You look exhausted,” he remarks, gesturing to himself. “I’m taken care of.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” you say, putting as much finality into your voice as you can in your state.

He says your name softly. You look away. He sighs.

“Well, if you insist on staying, then at least I can get pampered a bit, yeah?” he starts, and you narrow your eyes at him in feigned suspicion. He asks with a playful pout, “You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?” 

Joaquín turns his head, offering you his cheek. You can’t help but laugh. 

“I thought you were high on painkillers already?”

“Even the best medicine holds nothing against your kisses.”

“Pfft, is that so.” Now it’s your heart’s turn to speed up. You two have been together for a while now, but he still makes you feel warm and fuzzy, and gives you butterflies in your stomach, when he isn’t on the brink of death, at least. “Well, in that case, I better get started on your dose.”

You lean forward, placing a kiss on his cheek, and he hums pleasedly. He doesn’t move, though, clearly waiting for more. You’re more than happy to oblige, placing kiss after kiss on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, being especially careful around his injuries. Finally, you hold his chin to turn his face towards you, and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his lips. It's chaste but sweet, and he smiles into it. When you lean back, his eyes are filled with love, slightly unfocused because of the meds, a goofy grin on his face. As you hold his face, you consider saying something cheesy, hoping he won’t remember it. But before you can speak, there’s a knock at the door, and someone steps in. It’s Sam. He looks surprised to see you.  

“Damn, you’re still here?” he asks with concern, then turns to Joaquín. “How’re you feeling?”

“Splendid, really,” he replies, leaning into your hand still cupping his face.

“He got a decent shot of painkillers,” you explain, looking up at Sam with a tired smile. “He’s high as a kite.”

Sam chuckles, then looks at you worriedly. 

“You need to rest. Both of you.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “Go home, I’ll take it from here.”

You hesitate, looking between the two, and Joaquín nods, his eyes pleading for you to also take care of yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Joaquín says, taking your hand from his face and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Right,” you sigh and rise to your feet with wobbly legs now that the exhaustion is finally kicking in full force, and Sam holds you up when your knees threaten to give in. 

“Whoa there. You need a nap, ASAP.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you say with a sigh, steadying yourself as he lets you go, his hands still hovering over your arms for a moment in case he has to grab you again, but you manage to stand straight. You grab your jacket from the back of the chair, and turn to Joaquín. “I’ll come back this evening, okay? I’ll bring your favourite snacks too. Don’t tell the nurse, though.” You wink at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re the best.”

“No, you are.” You lean over him to kiss him goodbye, whispering ‘I love you’ against his lips, and pecking him once more for good measure. The machine’s beeps speed up again.

“Love you too. See you later.” Joaquín brings his hand up to caress over your cheek one last time, then you leave the room.

Sam is still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at his friend as the beeps slowly start decreasing back to normal.

“Very cute,” he remarks, unable to bite back a teasing smile. 

“Don’t even,” Joaquín says and rolls his eyes playfully, knowing perfectly well that Sam will never let him live that down.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!]

[moonlightwritingf1]

Between Goodbyes and Forevers | LN4

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has to leave to prepare for the new season, and Y/N is super sad and clingy. He comforts her, and they have emotional goodbye sex.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.6k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex,

Based on this request.

Y/N’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside her floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening was winding down, but her mind was anything but calm. Lando lounged on her sofa, one arm draped casually over the back, his signature smirk playing on his lips. He’d been teasing her all night, his words light and playful, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her heart race.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he remarked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the silence. His gaze lingered on her, and she felt her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Lando was leaving tomorrow, heading back to Monaco to prepare for the new Formula One season. She’d known this was coming, but now that the moment was here, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“Bullshit,” Lando said with a chuckle, leaning forward slightly. His eyes narrowed, and that smirk turned into a knowing grin. “You’ve been clingy all evening. Not that I’m complaining,” he added, his tone softening.

“I haven’t been clingy,” Y/N retorted, though her voice lacked conviction. She hated how easily he saw through her.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been glued to my side all night. Even when I went to grab a drink, you followed me like a lost puppy.”

She opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. She had been clingy, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to seem desperate or needy, but the thought of him leaving made her stomach churn.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. “I just… I’m really going to miss you.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he moved closer to her on the sofa. His hand found hers, intertwining their fingers. “I’m going to miss you too, you know. More than I can say.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made her breath catch. For someone who was always so carefree and teasing, Lando had a way of making her feel like she was the most important person in the world.

“You’ll call me, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Every day,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand. “And I’ll FaceTime you after every race. You’ll be sick of me by the end of the season.”

Y/N managed a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but there was a part of her that was terrified he’d forget about her. That she’d be just another girl he left behind.

Lando must have sensed her unease because he leaned in closer, his free hand cupping her cheek. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice like a warm blanket wrapping around her. “You’re not just some girl, Y/n. You’re everything to me. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She hated how vulnerable she felt around him, but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “What if… what if you meet someone else? Someone prettier, someone more….”

“Stop,” Lando interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. He tilted her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “There’s no one else. There’s only you. Always you.”

His words were like a balm to her insecurities, but they weren’t enough to completely erase the doubt gnawing at her. Before she could say anything else, Lando leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, but there was an underlying passion that made her pulse quicken.

When he pulled away, she was breathless, her lips tingling from the contact. “I’m not letting you go, Y/N,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Not now, not ever.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the heat pooling in her lower stomach. She wanted to believe him, to trust him completely, but it was hard. Harder than she’d ever admit.

“I love you,” she blurted out, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face, lighting up his features. “I love you too,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “More than anything.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Before she could overthink it, she leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency.

Lando responded immediately, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that mirrored her own, and she could feel the heat between them growing with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests rising and fallings rapidly. Lando’s eyes were filled with desire, and Y/n could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.

“I need you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

Lando didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands trailing down her sides to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it off slowly, his touch soft and deliberate.

Y/N bit her lip, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. She was so used to hiding her body, to covering up the parts of herself she didn’t like. But the way Lando looked at her made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

His hands moved to her bra, and she tensed slightly. “Lando, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice soothing. “I love every inch of you, Y/n. Every scar, every curve. You’re perfect to me.”

His words melted her fears, and she relaxed as he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. His eyes roamed over her body, and she could see the hunger in them. It made her feel powerful, desired.

Lando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before trailing his lips lower. His tongue flicked over her nipple, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair.

He continued to tease her, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her wild. She could feel the heat building inside her, her body trembling with need.

When he finally pulled away, she was a wreck, her chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes met hers, and there was a fire in them that made her stomach flip.

“I need you,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He stripped off his clothes quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he finally joined her on the bed, she could feel the heat of his skin against hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His lips found hers again, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body. Every touch, every kiss, was slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

He hovered above her, his weight pressing into the mattress, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, sending shivers up her spine. With a gentleness that made her chest tighten, he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing, testing.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her body trembling with anticipation. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening, lips parted in a silent plea. Lando didn’t break eye contact as he slowly pressed into her, inch by inch. The stretch burned just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to him. He paused there, buried deep, letting her feel the full weight of him, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this, for each other.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost pained. His jaw clenched, his forehead falling against hers as he struggled to hold still. “You’re so tight... so goddamn perfect.”

She could feel every pulse of him inside her, the heat of his skin searing into hers. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from his throat. It was overwhelming, the fullness, the intensity of it all. She felt owned, claimed, but not in a way that scared her. In a way that made her heart swell, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

Lando began to move then—slow, deliberate thrusts that made her head spin. Each stroke dragged against her walls, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She arched into him, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips, urging him deeper, faster. But he kept his pace unhurried, his lips painting a trail of heat along her neck, her collarbone, anywhere his mouth could reach.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hand. Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. There was so much in those eyes—lust, yes, but something else too, something deeper. Something that made her chest ache with how much she felt for him.

She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the dampness of his skin. “I love you,” she whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret, a promise.

His breath caught, and he pressed his forehead against hers again, his thrusts faltering just for a moment. “I love you,” he breathed back, the words raw, unfiltered. And then he kissed her—deep, consuming, as if he could pour everything he felt through that one connection.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

She nodded, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Always.”

Their bodies moved together in a rhythm so deliberate, so unhurried, it felt like time itself had slowed. Every deep, calculated thrust was more than physical; it was a conversation, a language only they spoke. Lando’s hips rolled into hers with an almost unbearable precision, every stroke dragging against her inner walls in a way that left her gasping, her nails carving faint crescents into his back.

She could feel the fullness of him stretching her, the way he filled every inch of her impossibly tight heat. The friction was torturous and exquisite all at once, a slow burn that coiled low in her belly, building with every movement. He leaned back slightly, supporting himself on one arm, his free hand roaming down her side to grip her hip. His fingers dug in just enough to anchor her, pulling her closer as he drove deeper, their bodies slapping together in a wet, dizzying rhythm.

“Look at me,” he said again, his voice rough, strained. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity there stole her breath. His pupils were blown wide, filled with desire and love.

She reached up, her fingers trembling as they traced the damp line of his jaw, the stubble scratching her fingertips. “Lando...” she whispered, her voice breaking halfway. It wasn’t a plea or a demand; it was a confession, a surrender.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he bent his head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that swallowed her moans whole. His tongue slid against hers, hot and demanding, mirroring the relentless pace of his hips. She could taste the desperation in him, the way he clung to her as though she might slip away.

And then his hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit in one fluid motion. She arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as he pressed firm circles there, the pressure exact and unrelenting. Her thighs clamped around his waist, her body tightening around him in waves that had him groaning into her mouth.

“Fuck, you feel... too good,” he rasped, his thrusts growing uneven, faltering as he lost control. His forehead dropped to hers, their breaths mingling, sweat-slick and frantic. “Y/n, I—”

She cut him off with a whimper, her orgasm crashing over her without warning, stealing her ability to think, to breathe. Her vision blurred, her body shuddering as pleasure ripped through her, sharp and all-consuming. And still he kept moving, dragging out her climax until tears pricked her eyes.

Her name fell from his lips again, this time a choked sound, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips jerked sharply, once, twice, before he buried himself deep, his release spilling into her in thick, pulsing waves. He collapsed onto her, his weight heavy and warm, their chests heaving in unison.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the two of them, tangled together, heartbeats syncing as they came down from the high.

Lando’s fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his touch feather-light, as if memorizing every detail of her face. His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering there, soft and unhurried. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver through her, and she nestled closer, her arms tugging his tighter around her. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest, grounding her, anchoring her to this moment.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, like a secret she couldn’t hold in anymore. Her breath hitched, the weight of his impending departure pressing heavily on her chest. “So much.”

Lando’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering kiss. “I’m going to miss you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Every second I’m away from you will feel like a lifetime.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes searching his face. The intensity in his gaze held her captive, his eyes filled with a love that made her chest ache. “Promise me,” she said softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “that you’ll come back to me.”

“Always,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the ache in it. His forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync. “You’re my home, Y/n. No matter where I am, I’ll always come back to you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her lips curving into a small, radiant smile. “I love you,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions.

“I love you more,” he replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Her eyelashes fluttered shut as she leaned into him, her body melting against his. In his arms, she felt safe, cherished, and utterly loved. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them, holding onto each other as if nothing else mattered. The warmth of his embrace, the softness of his touch, the depth of his love— it was all she needed, all she ever wanted.

And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet stillness of the night, Y/n knew, without a doubt, that no matter the distance, no matter the time, he would always be hers. And she would always be his.

[darkbluekies]

Til death do us part

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: A summer romance turns dark as Silas can't accept that you've married someone else

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, blackmail, threats, Silas belittling darling, violence, isolation, jealousy, possessiveness

Word count: 5k

He’s everything you could have ever wanted. He’s sweet, caring and works at a bank. He can provide for you. He’s from a good family. Everything about him is perfect, everything you could ever have dreamt of. You could never have imagined that you would find a man like him after what happened last summer. 

You had met a man on the way home from dinner with a friend, someone that had helped you after the grocery bag you had bought food in on the way home. He had introduced himself as ‘Silas’ and had walked you home, carrying the groceries for you. You had thanked him. Silas had asked if you wanted to meet for coffee sometime, and you had agreed, innocently thinking nothing of it. You had gone out with him multiple times. Never actually becoming a couple, but acting like it. It was harmless, you thought. You kissed, went on dates and you knew that if things continued like this, you’d fall for him. 

But you noticed that something was weird about him, and it made you feel cautious in his presence. He never told you anything about his life and when you asked, you noticed that something shifted in his dark eyes. As if he tried to come up with a lie. It creeped you out somehow, because why couldn’t he tell you? Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted a man who tried to cover up his tattoos.

You finally got to know the truth at the end of the summer. A friend who had seen the two of you together had recognised him from a newspaper. He was a criminal, a leader of a mob, who was more dangerous than you could have anticipated. You had cut contact with him and moved away so that he wouldn’t be able to find you again. 

But he did. Somehow, he did. 

Letters have been piling up in your mailbox during these last few weeks, addressed to you and written in red ink. Your heart had stopped when you read the first one. 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so terribly much. My heart bleeds and aches for you. You left me because you were scared. I get that. I get that very well, this is a world you should be afraid of, but I will protect you. I will take care of you better than that man ever could. Yeah, I know that you’ve found someone new. I know that you’re planning to get married. Quite quick, don’t you think? You haven’t known him that long, and now you’re getting married? Silly Y/N, you’re so cute. Do you really think you love him? Are you trying to reassure yourself that I’m a part of your past that will never return? Or are you trying to make everyone around you believe that you’ve gotten over me and moved on? I know you still think of me. I know you want me. And I want you too. I have never wanted someone other than you. You and me are meant for each other. Don’t marry him. Come back to me. It’s you and me til the end.”

You hadn’t shown your fiance, but he had noticed that something had been wrong with you. You had become silent and distant. Letter after letter came to your mailbox and he realized that something serious had happened. You had no choice but to tell him about Silas and your past with him, the present he doesn’t want to let go of, and the future he demands. Your fiance had promised that he wouldn’t get to you, and that he was only trying to scare you. 

You had been expecting to see Silas at your wedding, but he wasn’t there—or at least you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. Maybe your husband was right? Maybe he was just trying to scare you?

The start of the honeymoon is set to be on the SS Anastasia, a proud liner with three yellow funnels, a solid superstructure and a great reputation. It is set to take the two of you to Spain, where you have decided to have the rest of your honeymoon, away from all eyes and to be with no one but each other. 

A steward welcomes you on board. You thank him and give him a smile. He lets you know that your luggage, which you left down at the terminal, will be delivered straight to your cabin, a suite in first class. Only the best for the newlywed couple.

“I’m so excited to see the room”, you admit as the two of you navigate the ship to find the mani staircase. 

“The agent said that it would be nice”, your husband replies and chuckles. “Now, if we only could find it …”

You laugh. It takes you nearly ten minutes to find the right door among mazes of identical white doors. The suite is divided into three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom, all decorated with expensive materials and fashionable colors. Polished dark wood and electric lights. 

“This is so nice”, your husband smiles, letting his eyes wander around. “I think we’ll have a good time here.”

You hug him and he chuckles, hugging you back. 

“I can’t believe I married you”, he says. 

Me neither, you think. 

Your mind drifts back to Silas and you feel your heart sink down to your stomach. You won’t be able to relax until you know that the ship has left harbour. There’s a constant, heavy feeling in your chest that you can’t explain. But you tell yourself that it’s just that; a feeling. Nothing more than old worries that haven’t been able to come up to the surface before now. You squeeze the man tighter, sighing out. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be safe. 

You have been promised a fantastic dinner, and the food delivers to your expectations. Everything is tasting like gold, served on a silverplatter. Sitting in the first class dining hall has given you an excuse to dress up. Everyone around is wearing their best clothes, and it is a silent competition in who looks the best. You look around, discreetly admiring everyone else’s attention to detail. You wonder how many of them have spent the entire day in their cabin, doing everything to look their absolutely best. The first night is usually relaxed, but a first time impression will always be remembered. 

“What would you like to do after?” your husband asks and sips on his wine. 

“I think I need to take a walk”, you joke. 

“Oh, yes, the night sky must be so beautiful out on deck. I reckon that you’ll be able to see the stars much easier out here. No city pollution.”

You walk hand in hand down the promenade, looking up at the starry night sky, pointing at familiar shapes. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the two of you walk to the lounge, deciding to take a calm day. Well deserved after planning a wedding and executing it. The lounge is cozy, reminding you of a simple living room rather than a first class room on an oceanliner. Maybe to make the passengers feel more at home.

Your husband takes the opportunity to indulge in a newspaper, finally having the time to sit down and actually read it.

You let your eyes wander around the large lounge, enjoying to admire the small details that give the room it’s cozy feel. But the feeling is quickly switched once your eyes land on someone. A man sitting in an armchair on the other side of the lounge, dark eyes feasted onto you, a small smirk playing at his lips when he notices you noticing him. You can feel your body go numb, feel yourself sink through your armchair, through the floor and through the ship’s metal. Feel yourself sink down to the bottom of the pitch black ocean. You forget how to breathe, head going blank. 

He found you.

You glance towards your husband who’s still invested in today’s news. Silas raises his eyebrows testingly as you look back at him, as if to say “yes, I’ve noticed him, you think he compares to me?”. 

Suddenly the air in the lounge seem to lose all oxygen. You need air, or else you will faint. 

“I-I have to get some fresh air”, you hear yourself mumble. 

“Are you okay?” your husband asks and looks up from his newspaper, eyes full of worry. 

“Yes—”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“N-No, I’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon.”

You need to get away. 

You hurry out of the lounge and out onto the enclosed promenade. The fresh air hits your face harshly. You grab onto the wall to support yourself while trying to find a way to breathe that doesn’t feel like needles poking through your throat. 

“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” 

You feel your heart stop. Quickly, you spin around, seeing his face way too close to yours. He tilts it, almost mockingly. You back away, stumbling over your feet and hitting your shoulder against the wall. Silas corners you, stopping you from escaping. 

“What do you want?” you breathe out shakingly. 

“Didn’t you get my letters?” he asks. “Or did you simply not read them?”

“Leave me alone. I-I’m married now.”

He smirks, tilting his head back and putting his hands into the back pockets of his suit pants.

“Indeed, you are”, he says and sighs out. “But do you really think that’s real?”

“What do you mean?” you almost stutter. 

Silas meets your eyes. He’s smiling. 

“Don’t you think I could have taken you whenever I wanted?” he asks. “The only reason you were able to marry that boring son of a bitch is because I let you. But, in the end, you belong to me. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t answer. You turn your head away, look out over the endless sea, and feel your eyes fill with tears. He wipes your tears with his thumb and you push his hand away. 

“I don’t”, you say, wondering where you have gotten the sudden bravery from. “I don’t belong to you. I belong to him.”

You show him the ring on your finger. Silas clenches his jaw and grabs a hold of that hand, forcing it closer. He pulls of the golden ring, scoffs at it and throws it overboard. You gasp and try to run forward, hoping to catch it before it falls too far, but he pushes you back against the wall. 

“Don’t ever say that again”, he warns you. “You don’t belong to him, how could you? I met you first. I claimed you first. He will have my seconds. Everything you do to him, you’ve done to me first. And he will never do anything as good as I did.”

“I left you because of this!” you hiss, reminding him. 

“No, you left me because you were scared. You don’t understand that you are in more danger if you aren’t with me. I’m the only one that can protect you. I didn’t want you to know about it because I know you’d be scared, but—”, he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “—but I won’t hurt you. You’re so special to me. I love you so much. You did read my letters, I can see it in your eyes. You know how much I love you.”

“Let me go”, you plead. 

“No. It’s you and I til the end, don’t you remember? I’m not letting you go again. I’ve been letting you have your fun for too long now. It’s about time I take you back. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt him either.”

You can see his eyes darken, his jaw clench. “You decide if it’s going to be violent or not.”

You freeze in his hold. 

“You can choose to come back to me, quietly and easy”, Silas starts and caresses your cheek. “We will be happy and your boy will be left alone.” He traces your jaw with his finger. “Or … you reject me and I take out my competition and take you with me once we reach Spain. No one will see you again.”

He seems to tell that you’ve stopped breathing, because he sits you down on one of the sun chairs and massage your throat. Your eyes are stuck onto nothing, empty. 

“I will give you until nine”, he whispers in your ear. “If you’re not outside my cabin at nine, A-30, knocking on my door, I will kill him.”

“You’re a liar”, you breathe out, voice barely audible. “You’ll kill him either way …”

Silas shrugs simply. “Maybe, but don’t you want to take your chances? You might save him.”

Silas stands up. You sit frozen. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” he says as if remembering something and looks down at you. “If I were you I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know, for obvious reasons.” 

He gives you a small, teasing smile before walking back inside. You sit still, not daring to move. Worried that if you move you’ll break down and realise what’s going on. You can feel your heart pound in your ears. No. No, this can’t be happening.

“What are you doing out here?” you hear a familiar voice ask. “You’re going to get sick!”

You feel your husband hang his blazer over your shoulders. The warmth, the familiar scent from him makes your heart hang heavy in your chest. You can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him, as if you’ve cheated your relationship, thanks to Silas’s threat. But if you cheat on it, you might save the love of your life. Can you cancel out a bad thing with a bad thing? Is it really a bad thing then? Can you be excused? 

You can’t tell him about it, but if you did, would he understand you?

“You don’t look well, actually”, he says and helps you stand. “You’ve probably already gotten sick. You should go lay down and rest.”

He helps you, slow and steady, to your suite. You lay down in bed and he tucks you in. 

“Should we ring for a steward?” he asks worriedly. “Ask for some tea and some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine”, you reassure him dimly. “I just need to be alone.”

“I’m worried about you. Something happened to you. I can help you.”

No, you can’t.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks. 

What if he gets killed?

“No, stay in here”, you wish. 

He nods. You hold his hand as you lay with your eyes closed, trying to think of what to do. He was clear; whatever you do, you’ll end up with Silas. The only thing you can choose—maybe—is to save the man holding your hand and whispering reassurance to you. The nicest you can do, in this situation, is to give in and beg Silas to leave him alone. You can’t be prideful and let him kill him. 

You find yourself outside cabin A-30 with your head spinning. You don’t want to do this, but what choice do you have? Your first is heavy when you lift it to knock, the sound of your knuckles hitting the polished wood seeming to echo throughout the entire ship. You can hear his footsteps on the other side and see him tower over you when he opens the door. His smirk sends a wave of nausea over you. 

“So, you came in the end”, he says cockily. “Good girl/boy.”

You lower your eyes to the floor. Silas steps aside and gestures for you to walk in. You do, on heavy, unresponsive legs. He closes the door behind you, locking it. You gulp. He lingers around you like a snake and you wait for him to put his fangs into your neck and shoot his venom into you. 

“You should rest”, Silas says softly and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep.”

He leads you to the bed and lays you down, lying down behind you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything that could scare you. You try to keep it in, but your body fails you. Sobs, quiet at first, leave your body. Tears run down your face. You hold your hand over your mouth, but Silas is close enough to hear you. He hugs you carefully and you can feel him rest his face into your shoulder. 

“There’s no need to worry”, he whispers. “You're back where you belong.”

It only makes you worry more.

“Your crying makes me so sad”, Silas whispers. “Everything will be okay, little thing. You're back now.”

You don't fall asleep that night, and you're sure Silas doesn't either. His grip on you remains tight and controlling, showing no sign of drowsiness.

The sun rises outside the porthole, and you're as wide awake as ever. Silas gets out of bed and starts to dress for the day. You remain in bed, feeling too empty to move. Your eyes fall onto the tattoos on his back and arms, wondering where he got them and what they represented. But something in you tells you that you don’t want to know.

“My darling”, Silas sighs and crouches down in front of the bed, caressing your face. “You don’t need to look so sad. You and me will have fun. We can do more than you ever could with that boy of yours could. My credit card never declines.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, frowning. 

“Oh? You didn't know?” His cocky face is getting on your nerves. “My men did some digging into him, and it seems like he spent a fortune on this honeymoon of yours. Barely anything left in his bank account. Poor thing was really trying to impress you, but the illusion would be all gone once you came back home. I, on the other hand, have all the money in the world.”

“Your money’s dirty.”

“Money’s money. I could launder it, and it’d be clean, but you wouldn’t accept it anyway. Which is why you’ll never get money from me. You’ll get jewelry, food, clothes—anything you want—and all you need to do in return is submit yourself to me.”

You sigh and look away. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now”, Silas says and stands up. “But you will submit to me, I know you will. Get dressed now, my love, we’re going to eat breakfast.”

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“I’m not hungry”, you say. 

“Do you want to stay in?” he asks. “I can go get you breakfast that you can eat later.”

You nod, whatever will make him leave you alone for a while. Silas gives you a comforting smile and pets your head before leaving the cabin. You take the time to cry, when you know that he can’t see you, planning to stop before he returns, but failing. 

“Crying when you think I won’t notice?” he asks and scoffs, just a little bit amused. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He sets down a tray on the table in the room and walks over to the bed, crouching down and wiping your tears. 

“You’re mine”, he says. “Crying about that boy won’t change that fact.”

You don’t answer.

“Will I have to stay in here the entire time?” you ask coldly.

“No”, he says. “Not all the time, but if you want to leave the cabin, you will be by my side. If I were you, I wouldn't try to run away from me or try to tell anyone, because the ship is filled with my men. You don’t know who they are, and they won’t bother you if you behave, but the second I tell them to keep an eye out for you, they will.”

You glare at him.

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you?” Silas asks. 

“And then what?” you counter. “When we're in Spain?”

“Oh, we're not staying there. I'm not allowed there. My second in command is waiting for us there and will take us back to America as soon as we arrive.”

Oh …

“I don’t want to go back. Not with you.”

“Well, life's not fair, little thing. You should eat now. I got you all the things you told me that you liked.”

He takes you to the table in the cabin and starts to feed you the bread, the coffee and fruit. You eat, just you comply, too tired to fight with him. Fighting with a wall would be easier. A wall wouldn't talk back. A wall wouldn't threaten you.

“See how much easier it is when you obey?” Silas says.

You give him a quick gaze. He traces your cheek with his fingers. 

“I look so much forward to having you all to myself”, he mumbled. 

His words send icy shivers down your back. 

You stay in the cabin the coming day. You wonder what your real husband is thinking of your disappearance. Sure that Silas has already done something to make him stay away … or worse.

“You're so down, baby”, Silas says. “How about we do something, hm? We have a whole ship to our amusement. There is a game room, a pool, a library, and a squash court. How about that? Why don't we play some squash?”

You nod, just to get out of the cabin. Maybe you can figure something out. Maybe you can hide.

“That's my boy/girl”, Silas says and takes your hand. “Let's go.”

Walking out with him, hand in hand, made you feel horrible. He looked so proud, so cocky. 

He took you down to the squash court. He picked up a racquet and bounced a few balls. 

“I hope you know the rules”, Silas said with a chuckle. “Or else I will win.”

A man came into the squash court. Silas gave the man a quick, stern look before glancing towards you, and then back at him. This is one of his men, you figure. 

“Give me a second, darling”, he says and takes the man aside. 

They turn their backs to you, whispering. You glance towards the door. As they mumble about something incoherent, you sneak towards the door, opening it silently and sneaking out. You run, but only get a few meters before a hand rips you back. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Silas hisses in your ear.

He slams a hand over your mouth to prevent you from making any sounds and almost you back to the squash court. 

“I apologize”, he mutters to his man. “Seems like my baby here can't behave.”

He holds your back firmly against his chest, hand resting securely over your mouth. “They'll learn soon enough, once they learn the consequences.”

You fight against him, but he doesn't budge.

“Stop fighting”, Silas hisses and turns to his man. “I'm sure it won't happen again, ill make sure it won't, but can you tell the others to keep an eye out for this disobedient little shit? If you ever see them wander around alone, you get me immediately. Leave us now, I need to lecture them.”

The man nods, bows slightly and leaves the squash court. Silas lets you go and you back away from him, but he's quick to corner you.

“You don't get it, do you?” he asks, and sounds a tad bit amused. “You can't escape me. And, come on, trying to do that on a ship? I really thought you were smarter than that. Where would you go? The only place you could flee would be to jump overboard. But you're stupid, not suicidal. And now, all my men keep an eye out. Just accept that your place is here, with me.”

“I want my fucking husband!” you scream. “You aren't my husband, you're a low life criminal!”

Silas’s eyes darken.

“Okay then”, he says, slowly. “If you want him so badly, go look for him. Go find him. If you do, I'll let you go with him. If not, you're mine.”

“Your men will take me back to you.”

“I'll tell them to leave you as long as you don't talk to anyone. Search everywhere. Go to the lower classes, for all I care.”

“What have you done to him?”

He smiles slightly, but it's not one out of genuine happiness, but of mockery. “Do you really want to know?”

You turn around and leave. He follows you. You barely have time to walk down the corridor before a man takes a hold of your arm. A different man from before.

“You're not supposed to walk around”, he says.

“It's okay”, Silas says a few steps behind you.

He wears his chin high, a smirk on his face and his hands in his front pockets. You rip your arm from the strange man's hold.

“My baby is using their brain”, Silas says and reaches the two of you. “We'll see where that gets them. Keep an eye so that they don't talk to anyone. We don't want to encourage talking to strangers, now do we, little thing?”

You glare at him.

“Go, then”, Silas says. “What are you waiting for?”

You don't like how he's changed. Just five minutes earlier he was set on making sure you wouldn't wander … and now he encourages it. Something has happened to your husband and you want to find him as quickly as possible.

You walk away, leaving Silas and his man in the corridor outside the squash court. You're not sure where to start. As soon as you get out of their sight, you stop and sink down alongside the wall. Needing to just catch your breath.

But you don't linger too long. Before you change your mind, you stand up and start to walk. You end up walking back and forth for hours, sure that every eye that lands on you is a member of Silas’s organization, someone being paid to make sure you obey.

You search every little corner on the ship, but your husband is nowhere to be seen. Your suite is empty, but there are signs of struggle. A glass lying on the floor, more than one person's shoe marks on the carpet. You walk over to his suitcase and take out one of his shirts. Crying as you hold it.

“Any luck?” you suddenly hear him say.

Your blurry eyes dart to the open door, seeing him lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so nonchalant, so careless. How can he?

“There are words for people like you”, you sniffle with a voice draped in hate. “Did you know that?”

“What word?”

“Inhuman.”

Silas scoffs out a small smile. “If only you were as smart with thinking as you were with words, you’d have figured it out by now.”

“What?”

“You haven’t found him anywhere on the ship, and you’ve been looking for hours.”

He doesn’t have to remind you. Your aching feet is enough to make you feel your loss.

“What did you do to him?” you ask weakly.

“I have already told you, if you listened to me, you’d figured it out earlier. I said that there is only one way to escape me.”

Your eyes widen as you dart your eyes to the round porthole. 

“Atta girl/boy”, Silas says, voice smooth as honey as he walks over to you.

“Y-You … y-you …”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”

“You ordered it.”

“Are we back to the ‘dirty money’ thing again? Does it matter if I gave the instructions or not? It happened, and even if I said I gave the instructions, you wouldn’t take it.”

You hang your head heavy in your hands, crying. Silas hugs you and you try to fight back, but he doesn’t let you go. He holds you tightly, his rough hands keeping you against his body. 

“Now that he’s gone, you have no other choice than to accept me whole heartedly”, he whispers in your ear. “You have no one else. Only me. Until the end of time, til death do us part.”

You sob in his hold, wanting nothing more than to escape. You manage to glance towards the porthole. 

Silas holds your hand in a tight, painful grip as you walk off the ship, surrounded by a few of his men. People on the dock cheer and welcome their loved ones, but you’re pulled right through the crowd. You can’t hear any of them, your own sorrow drowning out all sounds of happiness. Silas takes you over to a car. A black haired man leans against it, but stands straight when he sees Silas. His second in command. 

“Boss, there you are”, he says with a small smile. “Did you have a good voyage?”

Silas lifts your tightly intertwined hands with a smirk on his face. “What do you think?”

The second in command looks at you up and down and smirks. “Congratulations.”

“I wish we could stay here but if the cops get me I’ll be in trouble”, Silas says and pulls you close. “Let’s go to the yacht before we’re noticed.”

He helps you into the automobile and you’re off, on the way to the ship that will take you back to America. Tears run down your face silently. You shut them, trying to imagine yourself in another place, somewhere far away from Silas and his evil entourage. Somewhere where you had never crossed paths with him. Somewhere where things had turned out different. A bump in the road forces your eyes open again and you’re pulled back into the car that will take you straight to your own personalized hell, with a man who is ready to kill for you. You wish you had never allowed him to carry your groceries. 

[wriokitty]

like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE. 

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot. 

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it. 

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often. 

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him. 

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow. 

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that. 

────────────────────────

TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings. 

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head. 

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly. 

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should. 

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends. 

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude. 

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents. 

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings. 

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it. 

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause. 

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down. 

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad. 

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion. 

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?” 

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too. 

Something that kills his mood for the week. 

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you. 

────────────────────────

TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed. 

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his. 

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way. 

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else. 

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother. 

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him. 

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up. 

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see. 

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue. 

It’s just the kind of guy that he is. 

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps. 

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock. 

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not. 

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave. 

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to. 

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement. 

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment. 

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial. 

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—” 

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk. 

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow. 

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too. 

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

────────────────────────

TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were. 

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache. 

Alone. 

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact. 

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other. 

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had. 

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always. 

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can. 

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense. 

Saturday happens to be your day off, too. 

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit. 

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time. 

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs. 

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it. 

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?” 

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you. 

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them. 

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin. 

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks. 

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you. 

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you. 

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself. 

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place. 

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss. 

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself. 

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours. 

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, ropes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless. 

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his weight over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same. 

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff. 

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart. 

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you. 

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause. 

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter:

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace.  Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus.  Forever yours,  Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

[astrolook]

Moon in the houses

Moon in the 1st House: Emotions? Yeah, I’m wearing them like a neon sign.

Mood Swings? Who Needs a Weather App? – One minute, you're on cloud nine, ready to conquer the world, and everyone around you is like, "Wow, you're so inspiring!" . The next minute, you're in a full-on emotional hurricane, and people are like, “Uh, is everything okay?” Yep, they can literally see the storm clouds forming.

You’re basically an emotional X-ray for anyone who needs to know how you're feeling. Super helpful in knowing exactly where you stand.

You have the perfect built-in therapist, your mom, who never asks for a copay and always responds with “I love you, sweetie.”

Moon in 1st gives you a youthful young face. If a man, could be a mama boy. On the flip side, mommy could be overbearing.

When you're happy, you radiate positivity like the sun itself. You make everyone around you feel like they’ve just had a shot of espresso… without the jitters. But when you're in a mood, watch out. It’s like the ocean’s about to swallow up the entire coast. You can go from zero to “I’m emotionally drowning, help!” in 0.3 seconds.

Moon in the 2nd House: The Emotional Shopping Spree - You feel things, and you buy things. Repeat.

When you're feeling happy, it’s like “treat yo' self” day, and suddenly you’ve got 14 new pairs of socks that totally spoke to you in the store. Feeling stressed? Well, it's probably time for a little retail therapy... because nothing says “I’m handling my feelings” like buying a $50 scented candle you’ll never use.

Impulsive purchases. When your emotions take a dive, so does your bank account. "I'm sad, I need a new purse."

When someone asks how you're feeling, your response might just be, "Well, I bought a new jacket, so I’m feeling fabulous."

Your Emotions Are Always on Sale. You're like, “You know what would make me feel even better? A cute new scarf!” Because nothing says “I’m emotionally balanced” like a $15 markdown.

You love investing in things that make you feel good—whether it’s a cozy home, a nice meal, or that perfectly curated playlist you bought (yep, it’s a thing). Your finances are tied to your emotional health like a carefully organized spreadsheet.

Moon in the 3rd House: The Over thinker's Hotline - You think, you feel, you text… then you overthink it all.

Your emotions are running wild and they need to talk. A LOT. Like, you’ll have a deep emotional moment and then immediately text your bestie about it, but also text your mom for a second opinion, and then maybe send a message to a group chat for a third—just to make sure everyone’s on the same emotional page.

You’re the Emotional Wi-Fi of your social circles—always transmitting and receiving feelings, whether anyone asked or not.

You overanalyze everything. Sent a text at 11:30 PM? Now you’re wondering if that emoji you used in your response was “too much.” Did they think you were crying in that voice message, or just, like, “really emotionally engaged”? You end up spiral-commenting under your own messages. "Wait, I wasn’t mad, I swear!" Cue overthinking every single word.

You’re emotionally open, but also maybe one text away from sending an entire novel about your mood swings. If you have a Moon in Aquarius in 3rd house, you are very much into conspiracy theories.

The overthinking is so strong, even Siri gets nervous. “Did I say that correctly? Does it sound too emotional? Let me try that again, Siri, do you think they’ll understand?"

Moon in the 4th House: Home is Where the Feelings Are - Your emotions? Oh, they're all cozy in your emotional fortress… with snacks.

If you're ever feeling down, you know exactly where to retreat: the couch, surrounded by blankets, a mountain of snacks, and probably a weirdly specific playlist of “emotional” songs you know no one else understands.

Your vibe says, "Come on in, let me feed you, and here’s a blanket!" You’re basically the human version of a warm cup of tea.

On the flip side, you can get way too attached to your personal space. Don’t even think about messing with your “comfort zone,” because that zone is sacred. You might find yourself overly attached to places, people, and objects in your home that just... feel right.

If someone says something you don’t like, you might retreat into your home and pretend to reorganize your kitchen for the next four hours. Not because it’s necessary... but because it’s emotionally satisfying.

If there’s food involved and your loved ones nearby, you’re ready for some serious heart-to-hearts.

Moon in the 5th House: The Drama Queen of Feelings - Life’s a stage, and you're always in the mood for a performance.

Your feelings take center stage like you’re auditioning for a Broadway show every single day. You’re all about self-expression, fun, and creating joy—because, let’s face it, life’s too short to not have an emotional karaoke session on a Tuesday night.

Moon in 5th bestows with a girl child. Of course, we need to check whether it is associated with any other planets.

Professions like actor or any artistic professions fits you. You can turn any situation into a joyous celebration and make even the most mundane things feel like a special event.

The flip side? When you're down, it's like the curtains close on the show, and you’re the star in a drama you didn’t sign up for. You may exaggerate your emotions a little (okay, a lot)—an offhand comment from a friend turns into a full-blown emotional musical number. Cue the tears, dramatic exits, and possibly a solo performance on why no one understands your very deep feelings.

You’re basically the person who gets emotionally invested in every movie, reality show, and Instagram post you see and also celebrities.

Moon in the 6th House: The Emotional Overachiever - Feelings? I’ll just organize them into a to-do list.

With the Moon in the 6th House, you take your emotions very seriously—like, spreadsheet-level seriously. You're not just feeling your feelings, you're tracking them, analyzing them, and organizing them with the same precision of a perfectly color-coded calendar.

Your home? Probably a Zen-like temple of organization. You could be a productivity guru and an emotional support animal all rolled into one.

You’re probably the person who compulsively checks your horoscope, wellness app, and to-do list while also making sure you're drinking enough water—because, yes, your emotional health must be on track.

Service - oriented professions.

Probably keeps a journal. Your motto - "Productivity meets therapy!"

Moon in the 7th House: Emotional Rollercoaster + Relationship Drama

You Have a PhD in Relationships – You analyze, you nurture, you feel. Basically, you’re the emotional therapist of every relationship/partnership you’re in.

Emotional Dependency? Yup, It's Real – Your partner's mood? It's now your mood. If they’re happy, you're on cloud nine. If they're sad, well, buckle up, emotional crash ahead!

You Can’t Just "Date" Someone—You Feel Them – It's never just a date night. It's a journey. You’ll be emotionally invested before the appetizers even arrive.

If your partner says, “I’m fine,” but their voice cracks, you’re immediately putting on your emotional detective hat. Something’s definitely wrong.

Your partner's mood shifts and you’re already planning a 5-step plan to emotionally heal them. Just call you “Dr. Love.”

Moon in the 8th House: The Emotional Detective with a Dark Twist

If emotions were a rollercoaster, you’d be the one flipping the safety bar off and screaming, "Let’s go faster!"

Family gatherings? More like family mysteries. You can feel the unspoken tension, and you’re practically Sherlock Holmes, trying to figure out what’s being left out. Every holiday dinner has a side of “What aren’t they telling me?"

When you lose your virginity, you could even hide it from your family.

Being vulnerable with you is like peeling an onion—layer after emotional layer until someone’s crying. Sometimes you overshare, sometimes you say, “I’m fine,” but everyone knows you’re not. You can’t help it.

You can turn pain into growth like a magical wizard. Hurt feelings? Great, now you’re ready for transformation. You take all that emotional mess and somehow turn it into deep wisdom—or a really great, tear-filled diary entry. Either way, it’s epic.

Moon in the 9th House: The Emotional Philosopher on a Soul-Searching Road Trip

Your emotions don’t stay local. You feel them on an international level, like, “Why am I feeling so deep right now? Is this about my past life in a distant land or because I watched a documentary on the Amazon?” Your emotions are basically the United Nations of your soul.

Family & Friends Talks Are Like TED Talks – When you try to explain your feelings to family/friends, it’s less “Hey, I’m upset” and more “Here’s a 45-minute monologue on the meaning of life, and also I read a book on existentialism last week.”

One minute you’re high on life, quoting philosophy, and the next, you’re googling “Why does everything feel so overwhelming?” You’ll go from thinking you’re a wise sage to wanting to crawl into bed and watch Netflix documentaries. Your moods are basically a journey, so pack your bags.

You can't just feel something—you need to analyze, interpret, and probably give it a name. "I feel anxious. Is this anxiety or is it just me tapping into the collective consciousness of humanity?

You’re an Emotional Nomad – You can’t sit still. Emotionally, you need to keep moving, exploring, learning, and growing. "Home? Well, I feel emotionally connected to 17 different places.

Moon in the 10th House: The Emotional CEO of Life

Your emotions are always on display like you’re giving a TED Talk about your deepest feelings.

You don’t just work; your career is an emotional journey. “Am I feeling fulfilled at work? If not, should I change my entire career path? Do I need a promotion to feel better about myself?!” Your job? Basically your emotional therapist, but with more PowerPoint presentations.

Public approval is your emotional fuel, and you’re like, “Did I mention I’m emotionally attached to other’s opinion of me?”

Your mood? It directly impacts your work ethic. When you’re emotionally stable, you’re like, “Let’s take over the world.” But when you're upset? You’re still working, but you’re crying in the break room, making dramatic phone calls to your loved ones.

You’re emotionally invested in how the world sees you. You need to be the best at everything, but emotionally—"Did I look too emotional during my presentation? Was my inner turmoil apparent?" It’s a lot of pressure to keep it all together, but hey, it’s worth the “likes”.

Moon in the 11th House: The Emotional Social Butterfly Who Forgets Why They Came to the Party!

People love your warm, nurturing energy, and your squad is basically a second family. Just be careful—you might adopt every stray friend like a lost puppy. You could even get in trouble for helping your friend.

One day, you're the life of the party, the next, you’re ghosting everyone because feelings. People around you should have learned to just roll with it.

If you are feeling bad, you might turn to strangers online for some emotional support.

You’re energized by like-minded people and might thrive in large social circles, community work, or even fan clubs (yes, you might cry over your favorite celebrity’s life updates).

You might bend over backward to fit into a group, even if it means suppressing your own needs. That’s right—you RSVP to events you know you don’t want to go to, then regret it immediately.

Moon in the 12th House: The Emotional Mystic Who Feels Everything & Nothing at Once

congratulations—you’ve unlocked "Feelings: Hardcore Mode." Your emotions live in the deep, mysterious waters of the subconscious, making you an intuitive, dreamy, and sometimes tragically misunderstood soul. You might love solitude but also feel unbearably lonely, sense energies others miss, and randomly cry for no reason (or is there always a reason?).

Your intuition is next-level. You pick up on vibes, unspoken emotions, and even spiritual messages like a human radio antenna. Your relationship with your mother could feel distant, mysterious, or full of unspoken emotions. Either she was deeply spiritual and nurturing or emotionally unavailable and hard to read.

Unlike most, you actually enjoy being alone. Your inner world is rich, and isolation helps you recharge from the chaos of life.

Even in a crowded room, you might feel disconnected. You crave deep emotional bonds but struggle to express your own feelings.

Emotional stress can manifest physically—sleep issues, mysterious body aches, or just always feeling tired for no reason.

You might secretly love someone from afar rather than openly express your feelings. (Just confess already!). You crave deep, spiritual connections but may self-sabotage by isolating yourself. You love soulmate vibes, but fear vulnerability.

[leaderwonim]

THE WORLD NEVER ENDED | JACK HUGHES

pairing. jack hughes x fem!reader (ft. platonic quinn & luke hughes x fem!reader + male!oc x fem!reader)

genre. childhood best friends to lovers, ANGST, fluff, hurt to comfort, reader & jack are both 18-19 in this!

synopsis: Y/N and Jack Hughes have been inseparable since childhood, spending every summer at his family’s lake house—until his hockey career takes off and leaves her behind. As Jack’s life moves forward and Y/N tries to do the same, the distance between them grows in ways neither of them expected. But when their paths cross again at a breaking point, they’re forced to confront everything they never said and the feelings that never really went away.

The lake house never changes. It still smells like pine and sunscreen, the same old dock creaking under your feet, the same late summer breeze curling through the trees. But this time, you’re the only one here.

You let the beer bottle dangle from your fingers, the glass sweating against your palm as you stare at the still water. It’s late. Too late to be out here alone, and your mom would probably kill you if she found out you were underage drinking, but you’ve been doing this since you were kids—sneaking down to the dock past midnight, toes dipping into the water, whispering about everything and nothing at all.

Except this time, Jack isn’t here. Not really. Not anymore.

The last time you saw him was months ago, after another whirlwind season, after Team USA, after everything. He’d come back, same easy smile, same stupidly messy hair, same Jack. And yet, he wasn’t.

He moved too fast, talked too much about things you weren’t a part of, laughed at jokes from teammates you didn’t know. He had an entire life outside of this town, this lake, this dock. A life that didn’t include you.

It wasn’t his fault though, you couldn’t blame Jack for being excited about this whole new chapter in his life, not when he’s worked his ass off so he could secure a spot in the NHL in the future.

You took a shaky breath, watching as the wind blew the waters back and forth, your thought raced with Jack, Jack, Jack. It wasn’t anything new; you had been in love with him since you had learned what the word love even was, when Ellen and your mom teased you two endlessly after your eighth birthday, declaring that you’d two get married when you were older.

And then he left, at age fourteen to go train at some hockey camp over the summer and you started seeing him less and less. Then he left again for USA Hockey, and all that was left of him was the little times he’d pop up on your screen for a FaceTime, or a quick selfie.

You never told him that it felt like the world had ended whenever he left.

❥

The first time you met Jack Hughes, he was seven years old, standing knee-deep in the lake, grinning like he had owned the world.

“You scared to jump in?” he teases, squinting up at you from where he’s splashing around.

You cross your arms, standing barefoot on the dock, the sun burning hot against your skin. “I just don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

Jack laughs like you just said the funniest thing in the world, and before you can react, he launches a handful of water in your direction. It splashes against your legs, cool and shocking, and you gasp.

“You jerk!” you shriek, but Jack’s already laughing, already diving into the water, swimming just far enough out of reach that you can’t get him back.

You don’t know it then, but that’s how it starts.

The Hughes family’s lake house becomes your second home. Your parents are close friends with Ellen and Jim, and summers are spent tangled in sunburns, mosquito bites, and the smell of bonfires. Jack, being just a few months older, quickly becomes your shadow—or maybe you become his.

You race bikes down dirt paths, climb trees until your hands are covered in splinters, and stay up late whispering under blanket forts in the Hughes’ living room, trying not to wake Luke and Quinn.

“You think we’ll still be best friends when we’re older?” you ask one night, voice sleepy, cheek smushed against your arm.

Jack frowns at you, like you just said something ridiculous. “Duh. Who else am I supposed to hang out with? My brothers?”

You grin brightly, shoving him. “You promise?”

He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

And that’s that.

As you both get older, things don’t really change. Not at first.

Winters are spent at the Hughes’ house in Michigan, watching Jack skate for hours at the rink, your fingers numb from gripping a hot chocolate too tight. Summers are still for the lake house, where the days blur together in a haze of sun, water, and laughter.

Jack is your best friend. The one who sneaks you extra s’mores when the adults say no. The one who ties your skates when your fingers are too cold. The one who always picks you first for street hockey, even when Luke complains about it. The one who knows everything about you.

And you know everything about him, too.

That he gets grumpy when he’s hungry. That he has to listen to music before every game, or else he feels off. That he’s already dreaming about the NHL, about Team USA, about everything that seems so far away but somehow already feels like it’s coming too fast.

You don’t realize when things do start changing.

Maybe it’s when Jack turns fourteen and starts spending more time away at tournaments. Maybe it’s when you turn fourteen and realize your heart speeds up whenever he looks at you a certain way.

Maybe it’s the summer you turn fifteen and see him talking to a girl from town, and something ugly coils in your stomach. You don’t say anything, though. You can’t.

Jack is your best friend. That’s all. Even if you wish it wasn’t.

When Jack is sixteen, everything does change.

It’s the Fourth of July. The lake house is packed, fireworks already popping in the distance. You and Jack sneak away from the party like you always do, climbing onto the dock and lying side by side, watching the sky.

“You excited for the USA team?” you ask, your voice light, like the thought of him leaving doesn’t make your chest ache.

Jack turns his head to look at you. “Yeah,” he says. “Kinda nervous, though.”

You smile a little, the same smile that had reassured Jack every time he saw it. “You’ll be fine.”

He shifts closer, his arm brushing yours. “You think so?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “You’re Jack Hughes.”

He laughs, but it’s softer this time, almost hesitant. The air between you feels different, thicker, heavier. His fingers twitch on the dock beside yours, and for a second, you swear he’s about to reach for your hand.

But then he exhales sharply, sits up. “We should get back.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

You stare at the fireworks exploding in the sky, feeling like something inside you is breaking.

Jack leaves for Team USA at the end of the summer.

And you don’t know it yet, but nothing will ever be the same again.

❥

At first, you still talk all the time. He calls after practices, FaceTimes you from hotel rooms, sends you stupid selfies from road trips. And for a while, it almost feels normal. Almost.

But then the calls get shorter. The messages come slower.

You see his name on headlines, hear people at school talking about him like he’s some distant star instead of the boy you grew up with. And suddenly, he feels… far away.

Not just in distance. In everything.

And then one day, you realize you don’t remember the last time he called.

You don’t text him, either. You figured he was too busy anyways—too busy with hockey, with interviews, too busy for you.

His absence leaves a hollow space inside you, one you don’t know how to fill. So you try.

That’s how you end up with him.

Aiden West. Star quarterback. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile and dimples that should make your heart flutter.

You meet at a party—one you only went to because your friends dragged you out of your house, tired of you spending your nights holed up in your room, pretending you weren’t waiting for a text that never came.

Aidan’s nice. He’s funny. He buys you drinks and calls you baby and kisses you like he means it.

You tell yourself this is good. That this is what you need.

But when he holds your hand, it doesn’t feel the same. When he kisses you, you don’t melt the way you think you should. And when you close your eyes, it’s not Aidan you see.

It’s Jack. Always Jack.

Quinn comes home in December.

You’re not expecting to see him, not really. Ever since he was drafted, he spent all his time in Vancouver, busy with his own life, his own team. But one night, you walk into the Hughes’ house, and there he is, sprawled on the couch like he never left.

“Quinn?” you blink.

He smirks, sitting up. “Hey, kid.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. “You’re, like, a few years older than me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” he teases, but then his expression softens. “How’ve you been?”

You shrug. “Good.”

He gives you a look, like he can see right through you. Because of course he can.

Quinn has always been quieter than Jack, more observant. He was the one who bandaged your scraped knees when you and Jack were too reckless, the one who ruffled your hair when you had a bad day, the one who watched you grow up and somehow always knew what you were feeling before you even said it.

And right now, you can tell he knows you’re lying.

“You still talk to Jack?” he asks casually.

You stiffen. “Not really.”

Quinn nods, like that’s what he expected. “He’s been busy.”

“I know,” you say quickly, too quickly. “It’s fine.”

He studies you for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrow. “You dating that football guy?”

You hesitate. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Quinn tilts his head, his expression unreadable. “You like him?”

You swallow. “He’s… nice.”

Quinn leans back, crossing his arms. “You know, I’ve seen you happy before.”

You furrow your brows. “And?”

“And that’s not what you look like right now.”

The words hit deeper than you want them to. You look away, staring at your hands.

Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. If you like the guy, great. But don’t force something that isn’t real just because—” He pauses.

You glance up. “Just because what?”

Quinn meets your eyes, and for the first time, his voice is gentle. “Just because Jack hurt you.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say.

Because he’s right. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.

❥

Aidan is kind when he breaks up with you.

That almost makes it worse.

You can tell he’s been thinking about it for a while. The way he exhales before he starts speaking, the way his hands stay tucked into the pocket of his hoodie like he’s afraid if he moves too much, you’ll see how much this is bothering him.

“You’re not really here, Y/N,” he says, voice steady but laced with something bitter, something tired.

You don’t argue, because you know he’s right.

He sighs, shaking his head. “I like you. I really do. But I deserve someone who looks at me like I’m the only one they’re thinking about.”

Your stomach twists.

“Aidan—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts in, forcing a small smile. “I knew. I think I always did.” He swallows, glancing away before meeting your eyes again. “It was never gonna be me, was it?”

You want to tell him you tried. That you wanted to feel something more, something real. But the truth is, no matter how hard you tried, he was never Jack.

And that was never fair to him.

So instead, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He nods, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Yeah. Me too.”

A few days pass, and you still feel hollow, like you’re floating through life without really being in it.

You don’t know why you still go to the Hughes’ house. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s because it still feels like home, even when things don’t feel the same anymore.

Maybe it’s because, deep down, you just need someone who knows you.

Luke opens the door, and before you can even say anything, his face twists in concern.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

You pause. “What?”

Luke steps aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. “You have your sad face on.”

You frown. “Luke Hughes, I do not have a—”

“You totally do,” he interrupts, flopping onto the couch. He gestures for you to sit next to him, and after a moment, you do.

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “Quinn told me everything.”

You freeze. “Everything?”

Luke gives you a knowing look. “Yeah. And I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at Jack since we were kids.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Luke sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Look, I know he messed up. Jack is kind of known for that. And I know you’re hurt. But…” He hesitates. “You still love him, don’t you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Luke—”

“Just be honest,” he says gently.

Your throat tightens. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

Luke nods like he already knew that was coming. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

You frown. “What’s this?”

“Tickets,” he says simply.

You blink. “Tickets?”

“To Jack’s game against Finland.” His voice is casual, but there’s something behind it—something careful, like he knows he’s walking a fine line. “I was gonna go, but I think you should instead.”

Your heart stops.

“Luke…”

“Don’t overthink it,” he says quickly. “Just go. See him. Talk to him.”

You stare at the tickets in his hand, your pulse pounding in your ears.

This is a choice. A chance.

And to be completely honest, you aren’t sure if you’re ready.

❥

You end up deciding not to go until the last minute.

The plane ticket burns in your hands, Luke’s voice echoing in your head: Just go. See him. Talk to him.

So you do. You land in Finland, stomach in knots, trying not to think about what you’ll even say to him. If he’ll even want to see you.

But then the game happens. And Jack loses.

The scoreboard tells you everything—3-2, Finland. A brutal, heartbreaking end.

Jack stays on the ice, shoulders hunched, wiping his face as the Finnish players celebrate around him. You can see the way he’s blinking rapidly, how hard he’s trying to hold it together.

It doesn’t work.

By the time he’s in the tunnel for postgame interviews, it’s like the weight of everything finally crashes over him. The cameras capture everything; his red-rimmed eyes, the way his lips tremble when he speaks, the way his voice wavers when he says, “I feel like I let everyone down.”

Your heart cracks wide open. You don’t think. You just go.

You push through the lingering crowd, through the halls of the arena, heart racing. And then—there he is.

Jack is leaning against the wall, head bowed, gripping a water bottle so tightly his knuckles are white. His shoulders shake slightly, like he’s trying to get a grip, but he’s losing the battle.

You inhale sharply, willing yourself forward.

“Jack.”

His head snaps up, eyes widening. And for a second, he just stares.

Like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

“Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You nod, stepping closer. But before you can say anything else, Jack clears his throat and quickly swipes at his face, straightening up like he’s trying to compose himself.

Then he blurts out, “How’s Aidan?”

You freeze.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, looking down. “Quinn told me you had a boyfriend,” he mutters, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I—uh, I’m happy for you. You deserve that.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. “Jack—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, still not looking at you. “I always wanted you to be happy.”

He sniffles, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. He looks exhausted. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen before.

And suddenly, it’s too much.

The space between you. The months of silence. The fact that he still doesn’t know the truth.

You move before you can stop yourself, closing the gap and wrapping your arms around him.

Jack stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath.

But then—slowly, so slowly—it’s like something inside him gives in.

His hands grip your back, his face pressing into your shoulder, and he melts.

You feel his shaky exhale against your neck. The way his fingers curl into the jersey you’re wearing with his name on the back, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel whole again.

“I don’t—” Jack’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Your throat tightens. “Then don’t. Just just let me be here.”

Jack exhales shakily, nodding against you. “Okay.”

Despite your reassurance, he still feels like he’s falling.

The weight of the loss, the pressure, the expectations, it’s all crashing over him, relentless and suffocating. But in the middle of it all, there’s you.

And when you pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, he realizes you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your hands stay on his face, thumbs brushing against his damp skin, and there’s something in your expression, something soft and certain that makes his chest ache.

Then you move closer, tilting your head, and suddenly, suddenly—your lips press against his.

Jack stills.

Then, all at once, he melts into you.

His hands slide to your waist, gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing. Your lips are soft, warm, familiar, but new at the same time, like something that was always supposed to happen but never did.

It feels like breathing again. Like finally getting it right.

But then, Jack realizes and he blinks, something clicking in his mind as he pulls back abruptly, still holding onto you but panting slightly.

“Wait,” he says, voice hoarse. “Aidan.”

You shake your head quickly. “We broke up.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

You exhale, your hands sliding from his face to his wrists, squeezing lightly. “Jack, I tried to move on. I tried so hard.” Your voice wavers. “But it was never him. It was always you.”

Jack’s lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

Then, suddenly, he laughs—a broken, disbelieving sound before his face crumples, his eyes shining again.

And just like that, he’s crying.

He presses his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut as his grip on your waist tightens.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted you to say that,” he whispers, his voice shaking.

You smile softly, brushing his hair back. “I think I do.”

Jack lets out a shaky exhale, his hands fisting the fabric of your jersey, like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go. But you don’t.

Because after everything—after the distance, the silence, the missed chances—you’re still here.

He sniffles, pulling you into another tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

❥

Later, when the chaos dies down and the arena empties, you end up in Jack’s car.

The heater hums softly, filling the silence, the city lights casting faint shadows across the dashboard.

Jack sits in the driver’s seat, head tilted against the headrest, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You’re next to him, legs curled up on the seat, leaning against his shoulder.

It’s quiet.

Not awkward. Not heavy. Just comfortable.

Jack sighs, nudging his cheek against your hair. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

You smile faintly, reaching for his hand. “Me neither.”

He squeezes your fingers, his grip warm and sure. “I thought I lost you.”

You shake your head, squeezing back. “You never did.”

Jack exhales, his body relaxing against yours, and for the first time in a long time, hfeels whole again.

❥

The lake house feels the same the next summer.

The scent of pine and sunscreen still lingers in the air, the dock still creaks under your feet, and the water still glistens under the late afternoon sun. But this time, Jack is here. And this time, he’s yours.

He had turned freshly nineteen last month, but still was the same annoying boy you had known since you were seven.

You sit on the old wooden dock, legs stretched out, the warm breeze tangling your hair. Jack is lying beside you, one arm draped lazily over his forehead, his other hand resting on your knee, tracing absentminded patterns over your skin.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water lapping against the shore and the occasional laughter from inside the house, where Quinn and Luke are probably chirping each other over something stupid.

Jack sighs, turning his head to look at you. “I missed this.”

You smile, threading your fingers through his. “Me too.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes soft, warm, completely yours. Then, without a word, he tugs you down so you’re lying next to him, your head resting on his chest.

“You know,” he muses, fingers trailing up and down your back, “last summer, I thought I’d never get this back.”

You inhale slowly, letting his heartbeat ground you. “Me too.”

Jack tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But we made it.”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, smiling. “We did.”

He grins, the kind that makes your heart skip a beat, then flips you onto your back, hovering over you with that look—the one that reminds you he’s still the same Jack, the same boy who used to splash you in the lake, who used to steal your s’mores when you weren’t looking, who used to be your best friend before he was everything.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Luke’s voice echoes from the house, and you both groan.

Jack turns his head, scowling. “Luke, I swear—”

Quinn’s voice cuts in. “Let them be, Luke. They suffered enough.”

You laugh as Jack rolls his eyes. “I hate that he’s right.”

You shake your head, pulling Jack back down. “Just kiss me already.”

He smirks. “Gladly.”

And as his lips meet yours, the sun dips below the horizon and the lake glistens around you, making you realize everything is exactly the way it’s meant to be.

It isn’t until Luke pretends to fake barf that Jack removes himself away from you, opting to chase down his little brother.

“Boys, am I right?” Quinn says, giving you a grin.

You wrap your arms around him, never feeling as whole as you did now.

[accidental-memory]

So most everyone is familiar at this point with survivorship bias, to the point that the entire concept is fully conveyed with a single picture of an airplane with red dots drawn on it.

I think fewer people are familiar with a similar concept called the anthropic principle. The basic idea is: We exist in this universe, on this planet, because this is the universe and the planet that allow us to exist. It feels like it's a particular choice that was made, but it's just the culmination of chance across a.) a huge number of possible outcomes in this solar system, and b.) potentially an infinite number of possible outcomes across possible universes.

It has side effects. We enjoy the colors blue and green because the sky is blue and the grass is green, and the sky is blue and the grass is green for reasons that are beyond our control; for reasons that are the result of the circumstances bringing us to this moment.

It is, like survivorship bias, an inversion of what we perceive and intuit to realize that those things are limited and create presuppositions that can distort our interpretations. These kinds of distorted interpretations enter into everything we do, and make us, by default, bad arbiters of reason. Overcoming these presuppositions is extremely difficult, exhausting, both humbling and humiliating.

The reason rich people end up being the way they are is because they tend to focus so, so fucking hard on what they can do to make money that they do it at the cost of everything else. And while some do it knowingly, making calculated sacrifices (that is to say, sacrificing the world and the people around them on the altar of line-go-up), some never even had a chance to see it any other way because they were brought up by those who made that choice long ago and protected their children from even knowing the sacrifices they were making.

Money didn't make them this way. They were this way already, and that's why they have the money.

[navybrat817]

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[melanchoire]

UNLOCKED DOOR, LOCKED HEART ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🩷 ) years after being falsely accused of perversion, you walk in on your unclothed girlfriend, forcing you to confront your ingrained anxieties and rewrite a narrative defined by shame and misunderstanding.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!loser!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, nipple play, praise titsucking.

word count. 3,4k

author's note. the request for this fic is right here.

the scent of jasmine and something vaguely expensive clung to the air as you stood outside karina’s apartment building. you pressed the buzzer, the metallic chime echoing in the sterile lobby. “hey, babe! door’s unlocked, come on up!” you take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of your shirt. this is it. you’re going to karina’s apartment, again. it’s been six months since you two started dating, and your heart still does a little flutter every time you see her name on your phone.

you push open the heavy glass door of the building and step into the opulent lobby. everything about karina’s life is opulent. her clothes, her car, this building… it’s a far cry from the cramped apartment you share with two roommates. you’ve never felt particularly envious of her wealth, but it does occasionally highlight the differences between you. you, the quiet, reserved girl with a past you’d rather forget, and her, the radiant, effortlessly charming social butterfly who seems to glide through life without a care.

the elevator ride is short, but your palms are already starting to sweat. the polished chrome reflected your anxious face back at you, the faint fluorescent light highlighting the shadows under your eyes. you always felt like an imposter in karina’s world, a world of sleek modern architecture, designer clothes, and effortless confidence. you, on the other hand, felt like a faded photograph, a relic from a past you desperately wanted to forget.

you step out onto the plushly carpeted hallway and find karina’s door ajar, just as she said. taking another deep breath, you push it open further and step inside.

“karina?” you call out hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper.

no answer. you close the door behind you and step further into the apartment. it’s even more breathtaking inside than you remember. floor–to–ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine.

that’s when you see her.

karina was standing in the living room, a goddess sculpted from steam and silk. her skin, flushed from the shower, glowed under the soft light. water droplets clung to the ends of her dark hair, cascading down her shoulders. and she was completely, breathtakingly naked.

your breath catches in your throat. time seems to warp and distort. you feel a jolt of panic, a cold wave washing over you that threatens to pull you under. she hasn’t seen you yet, still reaching for a fluffy white towel on the armchair.

she turned, a wide smile gracing her lips. “hey! i just hopped out of the shower.” she reached for a plush towel lying on the arm of the sofa, casually wrapping it around herself, but the image was already seared into your mind.

but you’re not smiling. you’re not even breathing properly. your breath hitched. the world seemed to tilt on its axis. a familiar panic surged through you, cold and clammy. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to see this.

the memories slammed into you like a tidal wave. the whispers, the snickers, the pointed fingers in the hallways of your high school. the accusations thrown at you like stones, the constant feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. “lesbo.” they’d hissed, “pervert.” you’d become a pariah overnight, defined by a sexuality you hadn’t even fully understood yet. every glance felt like an accusation, every touch a potential violation.

you had become meticulously careful, hyper–aware of your surroundings, of your own body, of the invisible boundaries you felt compelled to erect. you avoided the women’s locker room like the plague. you walked with your head down, trying to disappear into the background. you flinched at casual touches.

and now, here you were, confronted with something so raw, so intimate, that it shattered the fragile peace you had painstakingly constructed.

karina’s smile faltered as she saw the look on your face. her brow furrowed with concern. “hey, are you okay? you look… pale.” she took a step towards you, her voice soft and gentle.

every nerve ending in your body is screaming at you to run, to disappear. you stumble backward slightly, your hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob. “i… i should go," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

you can’t speak. your throat is constricted, your lungs refusing to cooperate. you shake your head weakly, trying to communicate the unexplainable knot of anxiety that has taken root in your chest. shame burns in your cheeks. you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not a frightened child.

karina closes the distance between you, her eyes filled with genuine worry. she reaches out and takes your hands, her touch warm and grounding. you flinch slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

“hey, look at me.” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. it’s just me. you’re safe here."

her words, simple as they are, cut through the fog in your mind. you open your eyes and focus on her face, on the genuine concern etched in her features. she’s not judging you, not laughing, not disgusted. she’s just… worried.

“i… i…”you stammer, struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i just… i panicked."

karina squeezes your hands. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to explain. just breathe with me."

she demonstrates, taking a deep, slow breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. slowly, laboriously, you start to breathe again. the panic begins to recede, replaced by a heavy wave of exhaustion. you lean into karina’s touch, drawing strength from her presence.

karina’s expression softened, becoming even more tender. she understood. somehow, she understood. “hey, it’s okay," she soothed, reaching for your hand. her fingers were warm and reassuring against your cold skin. "it’s okay. come here.”

she led you to the sofa, gently guiding you to sit down. she knelt in front of you, her eyes filled with compassion. “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

finally, you manage to find your voice. “i… i have some bad experiences…” it comes out barely audible.

karina waits patiently, not pushing you to elaborate.

you take another deep breath and begin to tell her. you tell her about high school, about the casual cruelty and the constant fear of being exposed. you tell her about the rumors and the whispers, the feeling of being ostracized and vilified for something you couldn’t control–something you didn’t even fully understand then. you tell her about the locker room incident, the false accusations, the feeling of being branded as a pervert. you tell her about the years of hypervigilance, the constant anxiety that still lingers in the back of your mind.

as you speak, karina listens intently, her eyes never leaving your face. there’s no judgment in her gaze, only compassion and understanding. when you finally finish, breathless and emotionally drained, she pulls you into a warm embrace.

karina listened patiently, her gaze never wavering. when you were finished, she reached out and brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “oh, honey.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i had no idea. i’m so sorry you went through that. you didn’t deserve any of that."

you looked down, ashamed. “i should have told you.” you mumbled. “i didn’t want you to think… think i was like that.”

karina cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “hey.” she said firmly. “look at me. i don’t think that. i’d never think that. i know you. i know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

her words were like a balm to your wounded spirit. you felt a tiny spark of hope flicker within you. maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust again. maybe, with karina, you could finally let go of the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“you know you can always tell me anything, right?” she says softly. “i’m here for you, always. and i’d never, ever judge you.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. “i know.” you whisper. “it’s just… hard."

“i understand.” she says, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “but you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. i’m here to help you carry that weight."

she leaned in and kissed you, a soft, tentative pressure against your lips. it was a chaste kiss, a promise of something more. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

her lips parted slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. your instincts screamed at you to pull away, to run back to the safety of your own world. but something held you back. the warmth of her touch, the sincerity in her eyes, the unwavering belief she had in you.

you tentatively kissed her back, your movements clumsy and unsure. you had karina really kissed anyone before, not like this. karina seemed to sense your hesitation and took the lead, guiding you with gentle hands.

her tongue traced the curve of your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss. the world around you faded away, replaced by the sensation of her soft lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin.

your hands, still trembling, reached up and tentatively touched her face. her skin was soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. she moaned softly against your lips, and you felt a surge of heat course through your body.

you didn’t know what you were doing. you were completely lost, adrift in a sea of new sensations. but you knew that you wanted this. you wanted her.

karina broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “easy there.” she teased, her voice breathy. “we have all the time in the world.”

she took your hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “like this.” she murmured, her voice husky. “feel my body. let yourself enjoy it.”

your hands trembled as you explored the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. you felt her shiver beneath your touch, and a thrill of power coursed through you.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll teach you everything you need to know. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be a pro at making girls scream in ecstasy.”

she crooked a finger at you, beckoning you closer. “come here, sweetheart. let me show you how to touch me…”

as you approached, karina took your hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging you to squeeze the soft flesh. her nipple pebbled under your palm, the rosy bud begging for attention.

“start by worshipping my tits.” she instructed breathily. “use both hands, don’t be shy. get acquainted with every inch of them.”

not knowing what to do really, you slowly take her breasts in your hands, feeling the weight of them on your palms. “they’re… uhm, nice.”

karina let out a soft moan as your hesitant hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, your touch sending pleasant shivers through her. she covered your hands with her own, guiding you to knead and caress the ample mounds with more confidence. she reached up and showed you how to circle her stiff nipples with your thumbs, applying a teasing pressure. another breathy moan escaped her lips as you clumsily mimicked her actions.

“mmmh yes, just like that, baby. you’re a natural.” she encouraged breathlessly, her back arching slightly to push her chest further into your touch. “don’t be shy. grab them tighter, pinch and pull at my nipples. i want to feel that cute mouth of yours all over them too.”

she released your hands and leaned back, watching you intently through half–lidded eyes darkened with lust. your fingers found her nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. karina gasped and bit her plump lower lip, looking utterly debauched.

“that’t it, baby. now, lean down and put your mouth on them. cover my nipple with your lips and suck, use your tongue to swirl around it.” karina tangled her fingers in your hair, pushing your face further into her cleavage as she arched her back, pressing more of her soft flesh into your mouth. her breath came in short, eager gasps as she felt your inexperienced but enthusiastic exploration of her body.

karina gasped and arched her back slightly as your warm mouth enveloped her sensitive nipple, your tongue beginning to swirl and flick around the hardened nub. she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you suckled and lapped at her breast. “oh fuck yes—, just like that.” she purred, pushing your head more insistently against her chest. “suck on my tits, baby. put that pretty mouth of yours to work.”

as you tentatively suckled and licked at her nipple, karina squirmed beneath you, her arousal growing. she held your head in place, encouraging you to lavish attention on her breasts.

“you’re a quick learner.” she praised breathlessly. “keep going, baby. use more of your tongue, flick it against the tip. make me feel good.” she pushed your head down, encouraging you to take more of her breast into your mouth. her other hand came up to grope and knead the neglected mound, pinching and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

karina’s thighs began to tremble slightly, a dampness building between them as your inexperienced but eager ministrations stoked the fires of her arousal. she could feel her pussy throbbing, aching to be touched and filled.

she released your hair and tapped your chin, urging you to lift your head and look at her. “do you want to learn how to make a girl feel good?”

she sat up and spread her legs wider, revealing her glistening folds. the scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling your nostrils and making your head spin with desire.

“come closer, baby. get on your knees.” karina commanded, her voice low and breathy. she used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing her pink, pulsing hole. “start by kissing up my thigh, nice and slow. get me nice and worked up.”

her eyes locked with yours, burning with lust and hunger. she licked her lips, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. “then find my clit with that clever tongue of yours. suck and lick it just like you did my nipples. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

karina leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with anticipation. her eyes never left yours as she waited for you to obey her command and begin your sensual journey up her thigh.

karina shuddered as your soft lips trailed kisses along her inner thigh, your mouth leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake. she let out breathy little moans and sighs, her fingers curling in your hair as you worked your way steadily upward.

“oh fuck, baby.” she whimpered, squirming slightly. “your mouth feels so good. don’t stop, baby. keep going until you reach the top.”

as you drew closer to her glistening center, the musky scent of her arousal intensified, filling your senses and making your head swim with desire. your heart raced as you caught sight of her swollen, slick folds, just begging to be tasted.

karina spread her legs even wider, giving you full access to her most intimate area. she used two fingers to spread herself open, revealing her pink, pulsing hole and the stiff little bud at the apex.

“go on, sweetheart.” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “find my clit with that hot little mouth of yours. suck on it, lick circles around it. make me feel good."

her chest heaved with anticipation, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly. she gazed down at you with hooded, lust–filled eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. the air between your face and her dripping sex was charged with electric tension, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy.

karina let out a sharp gasp as your tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, her hips bucking slightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. she tangled her fingers tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as she grinded your face against her dripping sex.

“fuck yes—!" she cried out, her head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that, baby. suck on my clit. put that wicked little tongue to work.”

spurred on by her encouragement, you focused your attention on the stiff little bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue before suckling gently. you swirl your tongue around the stiff bud, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. karina’s thighs trembled and clenched around your head, her arousal coating your chin and dripping down your neck. you could feel her pulse racing beneath the slick skin as you lapped and suckled greedily.

“your tongue feels incredible.” karina panted, her hips undulating in time with the strokes of your tongue. “don’t stop, sweetheart. lick up all my juices. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

you delved your tongue deep into her fluttering channel, fucking her with the slick muscle as you continued to suckle her clit. karina’s moans grew louder and more desperate, her grip on your hair tightening painfully. the obscene sound of your slurping and sucking filled the room, mingling with her wanton cries.

“yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, i’m gonna come!” she nearly screamed, her body tensing and quaking. “make me come on that pretty face. don’t stop!”

karina’s body went rigid, her back arching sharply off the couch as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. she threw her head back and let out a guttural, primal scream of ecstasy, her inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around your plunging tongue.

“oh shit, yes! i’m coming so hard!” she wailed, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin. her fingers pulled harshly at your hair, holding you in place as she ground her spasming sex against your face, riding out the intense waves of her orgasm.

you continued to lap and suckle at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure as her honey gushed into your mouth. the taste of her essence was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, addictive in its uniqueness. you couldn’t get enough, greedily swallowing every drop as it coated your tongue.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, karina collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and glistening with a sheen of sweat. she went limp beneath you, her thighs falling open and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, a blissed out smile on her kiss–swollen lips.

“oh my god.” she panted, her voice ragged and hoarse. “that was… fuck, that was incredible. you’re a natural at eating pussy.”

she reached down and stroked your cheek with a trembling hand, smearing some of her juices across your skin. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she gazed at you with a mixture of awe and lust.

“did i do it right? was it good?”

karina grinned wickedly as you came up for air, her eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, her tongue plundering your mouth and tasting herself on your lips.

“good? baby, you were fucking incredible.” she purred against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

she rolled you both over so that you were lying on top of her, your breasts pressing against hers. karina’s hands roamed your back, squeezing and caressing your curves as she held you close.

“i knew you were a keeper from the moment i first saw you.” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “such a sexy little thing, with your pretty face and hot body. i’m so glad i made a move on you.”

her hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling your hips flush against hers. you could feel the heat of her skin, still flushed and tingling from her intense orgasm. karina’s eyes flashed with renewed lust as she gazed up at you, a devilish grin on her face.

“you know, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.” she said with a wicked chuckle. “i’ve got so much more in store for you. tonight is going to be a long, pleasurable experience. i’m going to take away your fear of being around girls."

[happyk44]

[ID: 1. Post from @/zmije: I think soulmates are real but they are made not found and also they are your friends

2. Illustration. A person lies on a bed. Their hand hangs off the edge of the bed. Three different coloured strings - yellow, green and blue - are tied around their index finger and fall to the floor before brancing off in different directions across the floor. The colour scheme is predominantly gray, so the colours of the strings stand out

3. Post from @/bichopalo: i think being a little in love with your friends is crucial

4. Text reading: [Chorus]

They put one foot in front of the other

Two best friends in love with each other

5. Illustration. Graffiti on a red wall depicting two people. A white figure stands and reaches out to a black figure sitting down, facing away from the from. The white figure is small, hidden inside a black figure sitting down and facing away from the other person. The black figure is outlined in dark purple, which is outlined in light purple, which is outlined in blue, then turquoise, then green.

The initial black figure is also small. They rest inside a large white figure reaching out to the other person. This figure is outlined in light yellow, then light orange, then orange, then a pale red, then a reddish green that wraps around the outlines of the other person.

6. Post from @/killingmyselfbutnotdying: "Friends don't look at friends that way" COWARD. I look at my friends with awe in my eyes, my chest is filled with love, I'm glowing because I get to be near my friends. I look at my friends and I would give them my everything. SO SKILL ISSUE, look at your friends with all the love that you have

7. Three pain cards with black text on them. The paint cards are the 34C-a group. Individually they are: 34C-1 Rosewater, 34C-2 Blushing Pink and 34-3 Grandma's Apron. The text reads, "Distance means so little when someone means so much."

8. Post from @/sadlekane: you're laughing. i told you a joke and you're laughing. i love you

9. Quote from Friedrich Nietzsche: "I love you. I feel as though we were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment."

10. Illustration. Two people reach for one another. The two shine bright like stars in the night sky. Beneath them, it reads, "I think my heart knew you before its lifetime."

11. Post from @/elytrians: big fan of platonic expressions of devotion actually. yeah we're best friends of coure i'd find you and hang out with you in every universe.

12. Illustration. A grassy field covered in yellow and pink flowers beneath a soft sunrise sky. Two black birds fly by. Light green grass grows in the formation of two people holding hands.

13. Post from @/mushysuggestion: i wish the world was kinder to you. i wish your past had been easier. but i hope i can make your future something to look forward to.

14. Text reading: To Emry

I've never felt this much love for a person before. I hope someday to find the words to express it.

15. Text reading: It's pathetic, I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was... not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you.

16. Illustration. Two people face each other. The person to the left is outlined in yellow, red and purple. The person to the right is outlined in purple, blue and green. Red dots are draw in the upper corner of their chests, connected by a thin red line. The person to the left's left arm connects and merges with the person to the right's right arm.

17. Text reading: And you are my best friend

And I have always known you

/end ID]

on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart

@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown

[elikajinnie]

Hi!!! Can you do the enhypen promo 2 and 5 with jungwon?? Down bad bff and oblivious reader? Thank youu!💙

P: Bff!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minor Angst, Confessions, you are oblivious, won is desperate, some jealousy.

Synopsis: Jungwon has always been content being your best friend—at least, that’s what he tells himself. In reality, he’s been hopelessly in love with you for years, too afraid to risk what you have. But with Valentine's Day around the corner and whispers of other guys planning to ask you out, he decides it’s now or never. Instead of a direct confession, he drops small hints that should make it obvious. Should. Because somehow, you remain utterly oblivious.

a/n: I was supposed to post this on Valentine’s Day… but surprise, surprise—I ended up working all day. So here’s a (very) late Valentine’s Day fic! Sorry for the delay! special thanks to @cafekitsune for the divider! <3

2. "You’re dangerous, you know that? Every time you smile, I forget how to breathe." 5. "You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?"

Jungwon had always loved being around friends—there was nothing he enjoyed more than having fun with the people he trusted and cared for. But as much as he liked it, there was one thing he loved beyond all else: being with his best friend.

Being with you.

You were everything he was grateful to have in his life. Smart, kind, and effortlessly fun. But also completely, hopelessly oblivious.

Oblivious to the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you laughed. Oblivious to the way his heart raced when you leaned against him, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Oblivious to the fact that, out of everyone in a crowded room, his world only seemed to orbit around you.

He wasn’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the late-night study sessions when you fell asleep on his shoulder, or the way you always remembered the little things about him—his favorite drink, the songs he hummed absentmindedly, the way he tapped his fingers when he was nervous. Or maybe it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for him to realize.

And now, here he was, trapped in a cycle of wanting more but never daring to ruin what he already had. Because you—his best friend—were the one thing he could never risk losing.

So, he stayed quiet. Kept his feelings tucked away behind playful smiles and casual touches that meant everything to him but nothing to you.

Because if you never noticed, then maybe he’d never have to face the truth.

The truth that his heart ached in ways he couldn’t explain. That every moment with you felt like a dream he was terrified to wake up from. That he had memorized the way you spoke, the way you smiled, the way you existed so effortlessly in his world, completely unaware of how deeply he had fallen.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, the truth had a way of creeping in. In the quiet moments when his name left your lips too softly, in the fleeting touches that sent sparks through his veins, in the nights he lay awake replaying every interaction, wondering if—just maybe—you felt it too.

But you didn’t, did you?

You still looked at him the same way you always had, like he was your best friend, your safe place, your person. But never anything more. And maybe that should’ve been enough.

Maybe it had to be.

Because the alternative? The risk of losing you altogether? That was a fate he wasn’t sure he could handle.

So he swallowed the words threatening to spill from his lips. He buried the longing deep within his chest. He convinced himself that being your best friend was enough.

Even if it meant breaking his own heart a little more each day.

But now, with Valentine’s Day coming up so soon, it had become a problem for him.

Jungwon had always been good at keeping his feelings in check, at pretending that being just friends was enough. But Valentine’s Day was different. It wasn’t just another day—it was a reminder. A reminder that he wasn’t the one you were looking at with hearts in your eyes. That someone else could sweep in, buy you flowers, and call you theirs while he sat on the sidelines, pretending it didn’t hurt.

And the worst part? You weren’t even thinking about him.

You had been talking about Valentine’s Day for days now—who might ask you out, what kind of date you’d like, what flowers you preferred. Every time you spoke about it, excitement lacing your voice, Jungwon could only smile and nod, pushing down the ugly twist of jealousy in his chest.

“Maybe I won’t get anything this year,” you had joked one afternoon, twirling a pen between your fingers. “Guess I should start preparing myself for a lonely Valentine’s Day.”

Jungwon had almost laughed at how absurd that sounded. You, alone? Impossible. If anything, there were probably a handful of people already planning to confess to you.

And yet, for a brief second, he let himself imagine what it would be like if you were his. If he could be the one to show up at your doorstep with flowers, the one you looked at like he was your whole world.

But that wasn’t reality.

Reality was him sitting here, dreading the day, wondering if this was the year you’d finally fall for someone.

And then it happened.

It started with a name. A name Jungwon hadn’t expected to hear from your lips in that way, with that softness, that quiet curiosity.

“So… do you think it’d be weird if I said yes?” you asked, tapping your fingers against your notebook as you glanced at him. “I mean, he’s really sweet, and I never really thought about it before, but… maybe I should give him a chance?”

Jungwon didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that you were considering saying yes to someone else, or the fact that you were asking him about it, like his opinion mattered, like he wasn’t the one who had been hopelessly, helplessly in love with you this whole time.

His heart sank. But his face? His face stayed the same, the perfect mask he had spent years perfecting.

“Yeah,” he forced out, offering you a lopsided smile. “I mean… if you think he’s sweet, then why not?”

You smiled, nudging his arm. “See? That’s why I asked you. You always give the best advice.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Jungwon should have been used to it by now—watching you get excited over someone else, watching as you completely missed the way he looked at you, the way his hands twitched at his sides, itching to reach for you but never daring to.

But he wasn’t used to it.

And this time, it hurt more than ever.

Because this time, he was starting to wonder if he’d lost his chance completely.

Jungwon didn’t do anything.

Not really.

But somehow, he was still the problem.

It started small—your new “almost” boyfriend growing stiff whenever Jungwon was around, the way his laughter faded whenever you leaned into Jungwon’s space like you always did. The subtle looks, the hesitation, the way he never really joined in on the jokes you and Jungwon shared so effortlessly.

Jungwon wasn’t blind. He could see the tension in the way the guy held himself whenever he was near. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes whenever you mentioned Jungwon’s name.

And it only got worse.

“You guys are close,” the guy had said one day, casual, but not really. “Like… really close.”

You had laughed, oblivious as always. “Well, yeah. Jungwon’s my best friend.”

And just like that, Jungwon had known.

It wouldn’t last.

Because no matter how much the guy liked you, he hated Jungwon more.

And Jungwon? He didn’t even have to try.

He just kept being himself. Kept being the person who knew you better than anyone else, who could read your moods with a glance, who you ran to first with every little thing. He didn’t have to say anything, didn’t have to do anything.

The cracks in your almost-relationship formed all on their own.

Small disagreements. Awkward silences. The way the guy started pulling away, his insecurity gnawing at him until it consumed whatever chance he had with you.

And then, one day, it was over.

You barely looked upset when you told Jungwon. More confused than anything.

“I don’t get it,” you admitted, pulling your knees to your chest as you sat beside him. “He just… said he didn’t think it would work.”

Jungwon stayed quiet.

He could’ve told you the truth. Could’ve told you that the guy had been jealous, that it had always been doomed from the start because no one would ever be okay with how much you leaned on Jungwon.

But instead, he just shrugged.

“Guess he wasn’t the right one, then.”

And you nodded, sighing before resting your head against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jungwon closed his eyes for a brief second, allowing himself to soak in the moment. Because even if he didn’t have you the way he wanted, at least, for now, he still had you.

And that was enough.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But as the days passed, Jungwon started to realize something—maybe "enough" wasn’t really enough anymore.

Because even though you were still here, still laughing with him, still resting your head on his shoulder like you always had, something had changed. Not between you, but within him.

For so long, he had told himself that being your best friend was enough, that having you in his life in any way was better than risking losing you altogether. But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Because watching someone else try to love you—watching them fall short because they weren’t him—had planted a dangerous thought in his mind.

What if he stopped holding back?

What if he stopped pretending?

What if he told you the truth?

The thought terrified him. Because if you didn’t feel the same way, if you laughed it off, if you looked at him like he was crazy, then everything he cherished between you could shatter in an instant.

But at the same time, wasn’t he already breaking a little more each day by staying silent?

The doubt clawed at him, restless and demanding. It lingered in the moments he caught himself staring at you for too long, in the way his heart skipped a beat every time you said his name, in the way jealousy twisted in his chest when someone else looked at you the way he wanted to.

And with Valentine’s Day nearing more and more, and you still feeling down after the whole situation with that guy, Jungwon felt conflicted.

Part of him wanted to use this as an opportunity—to finally say something, to be the one to make you smile again. But another part of him, the part that had spent so long holding back, told him it wasn’t the right time.

You were sad. Not heartbroken, not devastated, but still hurt. He could see it in the way you sighed more than usual, in the way your usual excitement about the upcoming holiday had faded into indifference.

“I don’t even know why I care so much,” you muttered one evening as the two of you sat on the bleachers, watching the empty field stretch out before you. “It’s not like we were even dating, not really. But still… it sucks, you know?”

Jungwon nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand. Not in the way you did, at least. Because to him, the pain wasn’t in almost having someone and losing them—it was in never having you at all.

“I just thought, maybe this year would be different,” you admitted, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “Maybe I’d actually get to experience one of those cute Valentine’s Days you see in movies.”

Jungwon swallowed. His hands clenched into fists in his lap, itching to reach for yours.

He could do it.

He could say it.

He could tell you that you weren’t alone, that someone had been looking at you that way all along. That if you let him, he’d make sure you never had to feel unwanted again.

But then you sighed and leaned against him, your head finding his shoulder in that familiar, comfortable way that told him you still saw him as your best friend.

Just your best friend.

So he did what he always did.

He stayed quiet.

And maybe that was his biggest mistake.

Because as Valentine’s Day crept closer, and as you started smiling again—started acting more like yourself—Jungwon couldn’t shake the feeling that he was running out of time.

And if he didn’t do something soon… someone else would.

So he planned to start small—show you, in quiet, genuine ways, that he liked you as more than a best friend.

But it was easier said than done.

Because you were oblivious as fuck.

Normally, Jungwon found that trait of yours adorable. The way you never seemed to pick up on people’s feelings, how you always assumed the best in every situation, how completely unaware you were of the effect you had on others.

But now? Now, it felt like torture.

Because how was he supposed to show you he loved you when he had such a hard time saying it?

He tried little things first. Thoughtful gestures, things he had always done but with more meaning behind them now. Walking you home even when it was out of his way, holding doors open for you even when his hands were full, remembering your coffee order down to the smallest detail and getting it for you before you could even ask.

But none of it clicked for you.

"You're such a good friend, Won," you'd say, smiling up at him like his heart wasn’t unraveling in his chest.

Friend.

Jungwon bit back a sigh, pushing down the frustration. He told himself to be patient.

So he tried again.

He started being more obvious—giving you his jacket when it was barely cold, brushing his fingers against yours just to see if you'd notice, complimenting you in a way that should’ve meant more than just friendship.

"You always know how to make me feel better," you had told him after one of his compliments, nudging him playfully. "What would I do without you?"

Jungwon had forced a smile, ignoring the way his heart twisted painfully.

Because none of it was working.

You still weren’t getting it.

And maybe… maybe you never would.

Because maybe, deep down, you had never even considered him as an option.

That thought scared him more than anything.

So with Valentine’s Day only days away, Jungwon realized something.

If he wanted you to know—if he wanted any chance at all—he couldn’t keep waiting for you to figure it out on your own.

He had to do something bigger. Something you couldn’t possibly ignore.

Something that would make you finally, finally see him.

So, he did something bigger.

With Valentine’s Day here, he made sure you wouldn’t come home too soon. He got some of your mutual friends to keep you company—texting them to stall you, make up excuses, anything to buy him enough time. And while they distracted you, he let himself into your house with the spare key you had given him long ago, “just in case of emergencies.”

And in his case, this was an emergency.

Because if he didn’t do this now, he might never have the courage again.

Carrying the bags inside, he wasted no time.

First, the decorations.

Red heart-shaped balloons filled your bedroom, some floating against the ceiling, others scattered on your bed. On the wall, carefully arranged, were balloons that spelled out "Be My Valentine?"—a question he never thought he'd be brave enough to ask.

Then, the gifts.

A teddy bear sat on your bed, soft and plush, with a box of your favorite chocolates nestled in its lap. Next to it, a bouquet of your favorite flowers—fresh, vibrant, just like you. And a basket filled with everything he knew you loved. Your favorite snacks, little trinkets, things you had casually mentioned wanting in passing—things he had remembered, even when you had forgotten you said them.

And finally, the finishing touch.

Rose petals, carefully placed, leading from your front door all the way to your bedroom. Alongside them, fake candles flickered softly, casting a warm, intimate glow around the space.

By the time he was done, his heart was pounding in his chest.

It was now or never.

So he took a deep breath, sat on the edge of your bed, and waited.

Waited for you to come home.

Waited to see if this would finally, finally make you see him the way he had always seen you.

And for the first time in his life, Jungwon was terrified.

When you finally got home, you were tired.

You had spent hours with your friends, confused as to why they were suddenly so insistent on keeping you out so late. They had dragged you to cafés, stores, even a last-minute movie, all while exchanging suspicious glances. But now, finally, you were home.

And the moment you stepped inside, you froze.

Rose petals.

They stretched out before you, leading down the hall, soft and delicate against the floor. And lining the path were small flickering lights—fake candles, glowing warmly in the dimness of your house.

Your heart skipped.

“What the—” you whispered, slowly stepping forward, following the trail.

Each step felt surreal, like you were stepping into something straight out of a romance movie. Your fingers brushed against your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

By the time you reached your bedroom door, your heart was hammering.

And then you saw it.

Balloons—so many of them—floating and scattered all around your room.

And then, there was him.

Jungwon.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, looking nervous but determined.

The moment your eyes met, you felt your breath catch.

“Jungwon…” You blinked, glancing around. “Did you…?”

He swallowed, standing up slowly. “Yeah. It was me.”

Your gaze darted to the teddy bear on your bed, the chocolates, the bouquet, the basket of all the things you loved.

Your chest tightened.

“This is… I mean, you…” You trailed off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Why?”

Jungwon took a step closer, hands clenching at his sides. “Because I had to.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “Because if I didn’t, you’d never notice.”

Your brows furrowed. “Notice what?”

He let out a soft, almost breathless laugh, shaking his head. “See? That’s what I mean. You’re so—” He stopped himself, exhaling deeply. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jungwon took another step forward, closing the space between you. His eyes held something deeper now—something vulnerable.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Your breath hitched.

Jungwon swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to show you, in every way I could, but you never noticed. So I figured… maybe this time, you would.”

Your mind was racing, heart pounding.

Jungwon? In love with you?

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You didn’t even know what to say.

And Jungwon—seeing your silence, your wide eyes, your stunned expression—felt his heart sink.

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe you really never had considered him that way. Maybe he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

So before you could say anything, before you could reject him and break him completely, he let out a shaky breath and whispered, “Say something. Please.”

You kept looking around the room, your mind struggling to process everything, every single detail Jungwon had put together, just for you.

Your chest felt tight, your throat dry. Your lips parted, but the only thing that came out was a shaky breath before you finally asked, “For how long?”

Jungwon took a deep breath, his eyes focused on you as if he were summoning all the courage he had kept buried for so long. He wasn’t sure what he had expected—maybe for you to stop him, or maybe for you to just… understand. But this was real now. There was no going back. “For so long,” he murmured. Then, like a dam breaking, the words just spilled out.

“I’ve been falling for you. Not just once, but over and over again.” He shifted, his hands twitching by his sides as if he didn’t know where to put them. “It wasn’t some instant, magical thing. It was a million little moments. Like the way you scrunch your nose when you’re confused or frustrated, like when you’re so focused and you don’t even realize how cute you look. Or how every time I’m with you, I feel like the world is just… better. The way you always give me the first sip of your drink without me asking. I never wanted to take it, but I always did, just because you were offering. You’re just…”

He shook his head, unable to fully explain, but his eyes locked onto yours. “And your laugh…” He laughed softly, almost to himself. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t even describe it. Every time you laugh, it’s like everything in my world falls into place. Like nothing else matters, just you and that sound. It’s like… nothing else could make me feel more alive than hearing you laugh.”

His voice faltered slightly, but he pressed on, his emotions pouring out faster now.

“And every time I’m around you,” Jungwon said, his eyes darting to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again, “my heart races. It feels like it’s beating so hard, like I can’t breathe. And I’ve tried to hide it, to play it cool, but I can’t. I can’t stop it. Every time you’re near me, it’s like everything else disappears, and all I can think about is you.”

You could see the longing in his eyes as he continued.

“I memorize everything about you,” he added, his voice trembling. “Your favorite food, the songs you hum under your breath when you’re in a good mood, the way you scrunch your eyes when you’re laughing so hard you can’t control it. I know all the little things because I’m always paying attention to you. Always.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours desperately, his words tumbling out even faster now.

“And when someone else shows interest in you… when they look at you the way I want to, it just… it suffocates me. I feel like I’m drowning, like you’re slipping away from me. But I’ve never told you. I’ve never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin this, ruin us—whatever we are. But I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.”

Jungwon’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his voice softer, almost a whisper now.

“I love you,” he said, his heart on his sleeve. “I’ve loved you for so long. I didn’t know what to do with it, but I can’t keep it in anymore. Please… don’t turn away from me.”

Jungwon had done it. He had confessed.

He had done the very thing that had terrified him for years.

And now… you weren’t saying anything.

The silence stretched between you, unbearable and deafening. His breaths came out uneven, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you, waiting, begging for a response.

But you just stood there, staring at him—wide-eyed, shell-shocked, silent.

And that silence broke him.

Jungwon let out a shaky exhale before his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto his knees, his head hanging as his shoulders trembled. The weight of everything—the nerves, the fear, the exhaustion—finally crushed him.

Tears slid down his cheeks, slow and quiet.

This is it, he thought bitterly.

He had been so scared of confessing. But now, he realized, this was what he should have been scared of.

Not rejection. Not heartbreak.

But this.

This horrible, gut-wrenching silence.

This feeling of being completely exposed, completely vulnerable, waiting for the one person he loved the most to either take him in or turn him away.

He squeezed his eyes shut, already preparing for the worst—

And then suddenly, you were on your knees in front of him.

Jungwon barely had time to react before your hands cupped his tear-streaked cheeks, tilting his face up toward you.

And then—

You kissed him.

His breath caught, his entire body freezing in place. His mind couldn’t keep up, couldn’t process that this was actually happening.

You—his best friend, the person he had spent years hopelessly in love with—were kissing him.

But he was so stunned, so overwhelmed, that he didn’t even kiss you back.

The seconds stretched, and you hesitated. Slowly, you started to pull away, your hands loosening their hold on his face—

And that’s what finally snapped him out of it.

Before you could fully retreat, Jungwon grabbed you—one hand curling around the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist. And in a heartbeat, he slammed his lips against yours again.

This time, he kissed you back.

Desperately.

Fiercely.

Like he had been starving for this.

Like he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.

His fingers curled tighter around you, pulling you impossibly close as his lips moved against yours—messy, feverish, full of all the emotions he had buried for so long.

And for the first time in years, Jungwon wasn’t afraid anymore.

Because now, he knew.

He wasn’t losing you.

He had you.

And he wasn’t going to let you go.

As the kiss broke apart, both of you breathless, Jungwon’s hands still gently cupping your face, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh—a mix of disbelief and relief.

And then, you smiled at him.

That smile.

The one that made his heart race every time.

Jungwon stared at you for a moment, his chest tightening again, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low, full of admiration. “Every time you smile, I forget how to breathe.”

Your smile only grew wider, and a warmth spread through him, almost overwhelming. He had never wanted something more than to see that smile, to feel the way it made his heart flutter and ache all at once.

You swallowed, your heart thundering in your chest. This felt like a dream, and yet, you knew it was real.

With a deep breath, you found the courage to speak, the weight of everything finally coming out in the words you’d been holding back for months.

“I love you too Jungwon,” you confessed, your voice shaking just slightly. “I’ve loved you for months now… but I didn’t want to tell you, in case… in case you didn’t feel the same.”

The words hung between you, and for a moment, everything was still.

Then, Jungwon’s expression softened, his eyes bright with something you could only describe as pure relief and adoration. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, his fingers still lightly resting on your face as he looked at you with such intensity.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he reached for your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. “So, you… love me, too?”

You nodded, your eyes soft but filled with determination. “Yes. I always have.”

Jungwon’s heart swelled with relief and joy, the weight lifting from his chest. A soft smile spread across his face, and before he could think too much about it, the words tumbled out of him, filled with hope.

“Do you want to be my Valentine?” he asked, his voice low but full of sincerity.

“Yes,” you replied, without hesitation, your heart pounding as the world seemed to settle into place around you.

Jungwon took a deep breath, still holding your hand as his gaze locked with yours. He had taken the plunge before, but this moment felt different—bigger.

“Then,” he began, voice soft but steady, “do you also want to be my girlfriend?”

You blinked, your heart fluttering wildly as your chest filled with warmth. This was the moment, wasn’t it? The moment you had both been waiting for, yet too afraid to ask for.

Without hesitation, you nodded. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Jungwon couldn’t hide his smile, the relief flooding through him as he leaned in, his eyes soft but filled with adoration. And then, he whispered the words that had been on his mind for so long.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?”

You blinked, your heart pounding as you tried to process what he meant.

“You’ve got me falling for you harder than I ever thought possible.” And then he kissed you again—this time slow, gentle, full of everything that had been left unsaid for months.

Jungwon finally had you, finally knew you felt the same, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t have to wonder.

Because you were his.

And he was yours.

a/n: well this sucked ass... i havent been feeling romantical since boyfriend troubles.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny

@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos

@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash

@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111

@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @chocowonnie

@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @bussolares @kiripimaspillow

@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc

@jakeluvrrs @firstclassjaylee @xnatqq @arclviie @aussie-boys-wife

@vvenusoncasual @bamguetismee

[akawifeyy]

SO AMERICAN | smau (OP81)

description: you might not be australian, but oscar piastri loves you just the same.

tropes: yapper x listener, he falls first and harder, celebrity actress!fem!reader (you’re the daughter of matt damon, please tell me you all know who he is)

face claim: addison rae

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: sorry for the long wait between posts, i'm not feeling the best right now and i've also had a jam-packed schedule. but anyways! here you go! this is based on ♪ so american / olivia rodrigo, which is one of my fave songs of all time :)

@ f1gossip: The daughter of Matt Damon, Y/N, is reportedly dating McLaren's F1 driver, Oscar Piastri. Thoughts?

tagged: @ f1, @ f1yaps, @ f1talk

comments (5862):

@ user1: she's so pretty omg 😭

-> @ user2: First thought was, "She's everything, and he's just Ken." Y/N is absolutely gorgeous.

@ user3: even though i've been an oscar girlie since day 1, i support this. if this is real, i wish them the best of luck <3

@ f1yaps: Has a hot new WAG entered the paddock? Only time will tell

@ yourusername: howdy, cota 🤠 had a great time

tagged: @ f1, @ mattdamon, @ yourbffusername

@ user4: prettiest cowgirl there is 🤎

@ oscarpiastri: It was nice meeting you!

-> @ yourusername: ditto! hoping to buy tickets for las vegas :)

@ user5: Why is Oscar lowkey lurking in the comments... 🤨

-> @ user6: read @ f1gossip's most recent post

@ yn.updates: during an interview for her upcoming movie, "riptide", y/n was asked about the gossip concerning her and mclaren f1 driver oscar piastri. with a big smile, she replied, "he seems like a great guy, but let's be for real. i've met him one time. let's not get too far ahead, please!"

tagged: @ yourusername, @ oscarpiastri, @ f1, & 2 more

comments (1257):

@ user7: That dress is stunning 😩

@ user8: they'd be cute together as a couple ngl. i'd love to see more of them

-> @ user8: but, they deserve their privacy

@ user9: ynoscar is adorable ❤️❤️

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: las vegas was a hit! congrats to the papaya boys, p2 and p3

tagged: @ f1, @ mclaren, @ oscarpiastri, @ landonorris

comments (9374):

@ yourbffusername: super cool! miss you xoxo

-> @ yourusername: miss you too, i'll be back home soon 💗

@ user10: Twinklaren tagged!!

@ oscarpiastri: Thanks for coming!

-> @ yourusername: of course, i wouldn't miss it for the world 😁

comments (539):

@ user5: Have any of you seen Oscar's most recent Insta story?

-> @ user11: the way i ran to check and SCREAMED 😳

-> @ user5: IK, they are so evil for soft-launching, they're torturing us. *Sobs*

Oscar's Instagram Story:

comments (7521):

@ yourusername: might not be good at legos but it was still fun being with you!

@ user12: ADORABLE 🥰

@ user8: how does it feel to live my dream 😞

Press Conference Interview Excerpt with Oscar (2025):

Interviewer: Congratulations on your podium in Qatar, Oscar! We noticed a special someone was missing, would you like to tell us more about them?

Oscar (smiling): If the special someone is Y/N Damon, you wouldn't be wrong. She means a lot to me, and I'm very lucky to be with her. Anyways, she sadly wasn't able to make it because she is back in America for the time being. She's about to have her red carpet debut for her movie, "Riptide"! I saw a few clips from it and she does a flawless job.

Interviewer: Is this an acknowledgement of the relationship between the two of you?

Oscar: Yeah.

Interviewer: How long have the two of you been together?

Oscar: A few weeks after COTA.

Interviewer: Well, best of luck to the new couple!

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ oscarpiastri: What a way to end 2025! See you all next year

tagged: @ landonorris, @ f1, @ mclaren, @ yourusername

comments (4898):

@ user13: ahhh omg y/n mention!! 🥹

-> @ user14: They're so cute

-> @ user9: best couple in a long time

@ landonorris: Always glad to be with you, mate

-> @ oscarpiastri: 2026 three-peat is on its way!

@ yourusername: so so proud of you 🥳

-> @ oscarpiastri: Thank you, I'm proud of you too. Can't wait to be with you again 😘

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[carnalcrows]

CAN’T SLEEP? - THANOS & NAMGYU

pairing: top! thanos x bottom! namgyu x top male reader

synopsis: Desperate times call for desperate measures

content warnings: 18+, bottom namgyu, top thanos, dry humping, threesome, public sec (but no actual sex ahahah).

word count: 1.0k

A/N: not too happy with this haha... how does one write dry humping

The dorms were stifling at lights-out. The kind of heat that clung to your skin, made everything feel heavier. After the day's game—one that left bodies scattered across the arena—everyone who was still breathing had collapsed the moment they hit their bunks.

You weren’t so lucky.

Because somehow, through the worst luck imaginable, you ended up in the world’s most uncomfortable human sandwich.

Namgyu was wedged between you and Thanos. And for once, you and Thanos had something in common: neither of you were happy about it.

"Can you stop moving?" you muttered under your breath, shifting slightly as Namgyu squirmed between you.

"I’m trying," Namgyu whispered back, voice thick with exhaustion. "But Thanos keeps pressing into me."

"You’re the one pressing into me," Thanos shot back, equally irritated.

"Okay, both of you shut up," you groaned. "If the guards hear us, we’re dead."

The three of you fell into tense silence, the only sound in the room the quiet breathing of the other survivors. The heat, the cramped space, the feeling of Namgyu’s body shifting slightly between you—it all made for an unbearable kind of awareness.

Then Namgyu exhaled, shifting just a little more, and— Your breath hitched.

It was ridiculous how little it took. A simple shift, a brush of skin against skin, and suddenly the tension was thick enough to suffocate. Namgyu must have felt it too because he stilled, caught between you and Thanos, the warmth of his breath ghosting against your neck.

Neither you nor Thanos moved.

Namgyu swallowed.

And then—

One thing led to another.

Namgyu’s lips met yours, warm and desperate, and your body reacted before your brain could process what was happening. You kissed him back, hands gripping onto his shirt, pulling him closer despite the sweat sticking to your skin. His mouth moved eagerly against yours, a messy clash of lips and breath, like he needed this—like you all did.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away, panting. A sharp breath, a shift in movement—

And then Namgyu was kissing Thanos.

The sheer absurdity of it should’ve made you recoil. But instead, all you could do was watch, heat pooling in your stomach as Thanos—who you were convinced had no romantic bone in his body—actually melted into it. His hands, rough from the games, tangled in Namgyu’s hair, and the sound he made—low, muffled—sent a jolt straight through you.

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy, irritation, or something else entirely that made you grab Namgyu’s chin and pull him back toward you. His lips were swollen, his breath unsteady, and he barely had time to exhale before you kissed him again, teeth knocking clumsily. It was messy, frenzied, desperate—like the last good thing before the world swallowed you whole.

Thanos cursed under his breath, his hands gripping at Namgyu’s hips as if trying to steady himself. You could feel his gaze burning into you, filled with something between competition and unspoken agreement. The tension was thick, the shared breaths ragged, and the air felt charged with something neither of you dared to name.

And yet, somehow—despite the heat, the exhaustion, the absolute insanity of the situation—you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Namgyu barely had time to catch his breath before Thanos yanked him back, pressing their mouths together in something far too heated for two guys who pretended not to like each other. You stared, panting, heart hammering against your ribs as Namgyu let out a muffled noise—surprised at first, then melting into it. His hands curled into Thanos’ shirt, body pressing further between the two of you.

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t even like Thanos. You could barely stand the guy. But watching Namgyu get passed between you like a shared secret, his breath hitching, his lips puffy from the sheer desperation of it all—something inside you snapped.

Before you could overthink it, you grabbed Namgyu by the chin and pulled him back to you, kissing him just as hungrily as before. He whined against your mouth, clutching at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. And then—damn it—you felt Thanos move in behind him, pressing close, mouth dragging along the side of Namgyu’s neck, his breath hot against his skin.

You shuddered, glaring over Namgyu’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable, big guy.”

Thanos only smirked, dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Right back at you.”

Namgyu groaned between you, tilting his head back against Thanos’ shoulder, completely lost in it. “Shut up, both of you,” he muttered, voice breathy.

Fair enough.

You kissed him again, slower this time—lingering, savoring. Thanos did the same, lips trailing along Namgyu’s jaw, down his throat. The heat between you all was unbearable, tension twisting tighter and tighter like a rope ready to snap. The dorm was silent except for the sound of ragged breathing, the occasional muffled groan, the rustling of sheets as you shifted, pulling Namgyu closer, holding him tighter.

You felt something hard against your thigh– enveloping the softness of the trackpats.

Oh.

Namgyu looked up at you, his lashes laced with tears. When did that happen?

Mumbling an apology, he experimentally pushed his crotch forward into your thigh, breath stuttering as his head leaned back into Thanos, giving the purple-haired man more access to his neck. 

Namgyu continued rutting against your thigh as you held him in place, his hands covering his mouth to muffle any moans. You felt your own cock harden in your pants, who knew that a man dry humping on your thigh could be so…arousing?

It seemed that you weren’t the only one that thought so. Thanos’ grip on Namgyu’s waist had tightened significantly– he pushed his crotch into the crevice of Namgyu’s ass, muffling his groans in the crook of the other man's neck.

Your hand slipped from Namgyu’s waist to the hem of his track pants, sliding it down a bit to reveal his hardened length, slick with precum.

You flicked your thumb over his tip– eliciting a low whine from the other man. Thanos– feeling left out of the action, brought one of his hands forward to cup the base of Namgyu’s cock– pressing it gently, which seemed so out of character for someone like him (or maybe you just dislike the guy, who knows).

Namyu’s back arched into Thanos– he felt himself on the verge of a release, and then–

“...”

The three of you looked up from your haze into none other than Player 001.

You were fucked.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[juniperskye]

The Nanny

Based on the following ask: @itzvenus04I was thinking of like sunshine soft girl reader x cloudy and broody serious Aaron meet as he hires her as Jack nanny because Jack liked her the best and of course Jack thinking his nanny is perfect he tries everything he can to get his dad and nanny together which ends up working and Jack is happy because he has another mommy now, not to replace Haley but to love him like a mom because a kid always needs his mom no matter what age

Aaron Hotchner x Nanny! Fem Reader Fluff Word count: 2185

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, significant age gap (non-specified, but legal), Sunshine! Reader, Grumpy! Hotch, reader is a nanny, Jack being the ultimate match maker, boss-employee relationship/blurred lines, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had been working for Aaron Hotchner for the last six months. You’d gone out of your comfort zone and signed up for one of those nannying sites, the ones where parents would go on and select your profile…almost like online dating. The only thing is, you were looking for a live-in nanny position, see, you’d just graduated college and had been living on campus and now that you had graduated, you needed a place to stay until you found a permanent residence. You could only stay in your friend’s studio apartment for so long.

Aaron hadn’t been too sure about hiring a nanny, especially a live-in one. Jessica had suggested it, seeing as she’d become increasingly busy helping her dad and taking on additional shifts at the hospital. She told him that it would be good to have someone at the house taking care of Jack, running him to and from school and soccer, someone who’d cook and clean and…the more she described it, the more Aaron thought it would be like hiring a 50’s housewife.

He sat on the idea a while; he hardly thought it would be appropriate for a man of his age to hire some young woman to come into his home and play wife while he was out working all day. He figured the best thing he could do would be to look into one of those sites that match nannies to families based on needs.

That is how he had chosen you and honestly, you couldn’t have been more grateful for that fact. Jack had been the best kid and getting to watch him felt more like hanging out with a child of your own…he’d made you feel so welcomed and it filled you with joy.  You’d enjoyed the Hotchner boys, although you didn’t see Aaron all that often, when you did, it always stirred up a fuzzy feeling within you.

--

Aaron was out of town at least once a week each month, those weeks were hard on Jack, but you’d made sure to fill the time with building Legos, coloring, baking, and soccer practice in the yard. You’d made all of Jack’s favorite meals and read him and extra bedtime story on nights Aaron was out of town. Anything it took to make things easier on him.

Truthfully, you liked the weeks when Aaron was out of town, it made your life a little easier, because despite that fuzzy feeling Aaron gave you…he wasn’t always the sweetest person in the world. He was kind of a grump.

In the six months you’d been working for him, you had learned that Aaron was an FBI agent, more specifically the Behavior Analysis Unit. You knew he was in charge of the team he worked with and that they travelled quite frequently. Jack constantly referred to him as a superhero. You learned that he loves the Beatles and the most important thing in his life is his son.

The other thing you had learned in that time was that he detested you. He’d made an effort to learn as little as possible about you, promptly changing the subject any time you’d said anything, even remotely personal. Little did you know, Jack was sure to fill his dad in on all the wonderful things he’s learned about you.

--

Jack had formulated a plan; he was going to get you and his dad together. In the short time you’d been working with them he’d been able to see that his dad was happier and less stressed out. His dad had more time to spend with him when you were around. He also loves you; you are sweet, and you take care of him, and it reminds him of his mom. That had made him sad at first, but very quickly, he came to appreciate it.

So, he decided he would help you by giving you insight into his dad’s favorite things. On the other hand, he’d talk you up to his dad in hopes to break his walls down just enough to let you in.

--

“Alright Jack, your lunch is all packed, can you run and grab your shoes and your backpack?” You asked him.

“Okay! Did you put one of our brownies in there?” He asked, jogging down the hall.

“Of course I did!” You called after him. “Mr. Hotchner, I packed your lunch as well. I was planning on going to the grocery store after I drop Jack off, was there anything in particular you’d like for dinner this week?”

“Whatever works.” He huffed.

“Okay, well I will email over the menu I had in mind then and if there’s anything you don’t like, just let me know.” You offered.

“Will do.” Aaron grabbed his bag and turned away. “Bye buddy, have a great day today.” Aaron pressed a kiss to the top of jacks head before ruffling his hair and heading out to work.

“You ready bud?” You asked.

“Make a pot roast with mashed potatoes.” Jack said.

“What?”

“It’s dad’s favorite.” Jack smiled.

--

You were putting the finishing touches on dinner while Jack was working on his homework at the kitchen island. You had taken his suggestion and went with a pot roast for dinner, figuring it couldn’t make matters worse.

“Alright bud, go wash your hands and put your homework in your folder.” You requested.

“Okay!” Jack made his way down the hall.

You set the table with three perfect place settings, you’d poured jack a glass of chocolate milk, yourself a small glass of wine, and Aaron his usual scotch. You plated up the food, mashed potatoes, pot roast with carrots, and a small salad. It was moments like this, waiting for Aaron to some home that your mind drifted to thoughts of truly sharing this domesticity with him.

You imagine him walking through the doors, placing his briefcase down, coming up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. Complimenting how good the food smells and asking you about your day. In these little daydreams, he was warm and sweet, not his usual grumpy self.

--

The door opens and you immediately hear the huff that escapes him. Exhaustion surely seeping in after a long day of work. This is part of why you loved this job, despite his coldness, you enjoyed taking care of the Hotchner boys. It made you happy knowing that he could come home after work and not worry about anything.

“Daddy!” Jack hollered.

“Hey buddy.” Aaron knelt down and lifted Jack into his arms.

“It smells good in here, what’s for dinner?” Aaron asked.

“Well, Jack informed me that pot roast is one of your favorites, so I changed up the menu a bit and made that for dinner. I uh – I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s – that’s fine.” Aaron let out an awkward cough.

So, the three of you sat and ate dinner. While you ate, Jack rambled on and on about his day and all the things that happened while he was at school. You were desperately trying to attend to the conversation, but you couldn’t help but be distracted…Aaron’s gaze had been lingering on you for the last ten or so minutes.

“Hey jack, why don’t you put your plate in the sink and go get ready for bed huh? I’ll come up in a bit to read a story with you.” Aaron said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jack nodded his head and followed the directions his dad gave him. All the while Aaron continued to look at you, surely profiling you. You were becoming uneasy, sitting there under his gaze.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Nothing. Thank you, for dinner, it was delicious.” He complimented.

“Oh, um of course! I’m glad you liked it.” You blushed.

--

It was a rare day that Aaron had off, on these days he likes to let you off the hook. This allows you to shop, go out with friends and get lunch, get your hair and nails done, the whole nine yards. Jack thought that a day out with his dad would be the perfect time to talk about you. They had been talking about how you helped him study for his spelling test this week which led to him getting 100%.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Why do you hate her?”

“What I don’t – I don’t hate her. I just, I ugh…I don’t know bud. I don’t hate her, she’s great.” Aaron stumbled over his words.

“You aren’t very nice to her though. Which is weird because she’s really nice and she makes us both happier, I can tell.” Jack smiled.

“I’m nice to her!” Aaron defended.

“No, you’re not. But you can be! Her birthday is coming up, we should have a party!” Jack suggested.

--

It was your birthday, you had been thankful it was on a Saturday this year, and Aaron was off which meant he’d likely give you the day off and you could spoil yourself a bit. So, after sleeping in a bit later than usual, you made your way to the kitchen only to be met with the Hotchner boys making pancakes.

“Well good morning!” You greeted.

“Happy birthday!” Jack shouted, wrapping his arms around your neck from his position on the counter.

“Thanks bub! Are you making chocolate chip pancakes? You know those are my favorite.” You teased.

“Yeah! It was dad’s idea to make them.” Jack informed.

“Oh – um thanks.” You were caught by surprise.

“Of course. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” You shyly smiled.

The three of you sat and enjoyed breakfast together, it had felt different than usual. Aaron had been different today, happy almost.

“So, I figured, since I’m home today, perhaps you could take the day off?” Aaron suggested. “I do have something to do around 6 though so if you could be back by then?”

“Really? That would be awesome, I really need to get my hair and nails done.” You laughed.

--

You had texted a few of your friends and met them at the nail salon, getting your fingers and toes done while filling them in on the latest…more specifically Aaron’s new kind side that he’s been showing.

They had told you it was because he likes you, to which you were quick to shut down. They all knew you had a soft spot for the older man, and they were sure he liked you back, especially when he was pushing you away. One of your friends claimed it was because he probably didn’t want to “corrupt” you.

 After getting them to finally relent in their teasing, you had suggested lunch. The girls treated the whole day, nails, lunch, hair and lastly a new dress from your favorite boutique.

“You should wear that one home.”

“Why?”

“For Mr. Hotchner…show off your hot self. Maybe get some for your birthday!”

“Oh my gosh, stop! It’s not like that.” You shook your head.

“Girl maybe it could be…just wear the damn dress!”

And so, you did. You changed into the new dress and had your hair perfectly styled and your nails done. You knew Aaron had somewhere to be at 6, but you figured you could at least catch him off guard prior to then.

--

You parked your car and made your way around to grab your bags, then headed up the two little steps that led into the house. Before fishing your key out of your bag, you paused, inside you could hear Aaron and Jack talking…something about balloons and streamers. You smiled to yourself, quietly letting yourself in.

“Hey guys! What’s all this?”

“You’re early!” Jack said.

You looked around and felt nothing but warmth radiating through you. There were balloons and streamers decorating the living and dining rooms, sat on the table was a birthday cake along with a few gifts. Pizza from your favorite place was sat on the coffee table and the living room had been rearranged so the guestroom mattress was laid out with cozy blankets and pillows, while your favorite movie was queued up on the TV.

“You did all this…for me?” You gasped.

“Yeah! We wanted to show you how much we love you.” Jack said, hugging you.

“You do?” Your gaze met Aaron’s.

“Yeah, we do.” He said.

--

That night the three of you ate pizza and laid on the mattress in the living room, watching movies. Before it got too late the boys made sure you had cake and opened your gifts, Jack had picked out a paint set for you, knowing you enjoyed watercolors. Aaron, well, he’d gotten you a first edition of your favorite novel. You’d been rendered speechless.

The three of you made your way back to the living room and laid down to watch a final film. Jack had been snuggled up to you, quickly falling asleep, and you fell not long after. Aaron smiled at the sight of you two, it had gotten him thinking that having you around may not be so bad after all.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust @khxna

[yandere-wishes]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮! 𝓣𝓲𝓶 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓽!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻˚ 𐙚 .⋆

✮⋆˙𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓽˙⋆✮

I believe the reason I decided to study robotics in the first place is that I have always loved romanticizing machinery. There's something endlessly enthralling about robots and how much they both mirror and reveal about us humans. And don't even get me started on the intersection of the two. When biology and mechanics combine…

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

Out of all the Batboys Tim is the one I can see falling for a robot reader the easiest. There is a reference to Pygmalion and Galatea in all of this. A futuristic parody.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake who falls in love with one of his creations. It had been an experiment, a distraction really, something to fidget with during the long hours of the day when neither Tim nor Bruce could bear the suffocation of either life. Insomnia has a habit of running in the veins of the mansion's residents. Haunting them like feral phantoms. Bruce was the one to suggest it. Came up with the idea between screenings of Blade Runner and Her. What if there was someone else, something else. Who could pick up the slack whenever neither of them could. Someone to cover for both Batman AND Bruce Wayne. Red Robin AND Tim Drake…

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who has always found it easier to fall in love with machinery, with the motors that whirl and the computers that speak in tongues of one and zero. It's always easier to love that which you've programmed with your own hands. He glides his fingers over your smooth icy face, pinching your steel cheek with a boyish giggle. He's painstakingly meticulous with how he manipulates the wires of your exposed stomach. Smoothing out the solder, making sure the heat shrinks are snug. There isn't a resistor within you that's been placed carelessly.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who is the first person, the first thing you see when your optics come online. The first person to utter words that float and register within your processor. You are his precious creations, his darling marvel, he built you with pieces of his heart, built you to be perfection. Weeks later you're sitting between his legs as he helps you choose a silicon faceplate. Superficial details really, Tim assures you, just something to help you blend in. He finds the particular shade you chose for your eyes cute. You aren't sure why that makes your processor buzz so quickly and your cooling fans to kick in.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who steals kisses whenever his father and Alfred aren't looking. Who thinks that every human pales in the gleam of your beauty. Finit metal, that knows everything and nothing at the same time. Little robot girl who holds his hand as she asks and researches every enigma within minutes. Some nights Tim can't help but peel away the faux skin. To kiss your wires and your circuits. To make little tweaks to perfection. He whispers a name, your name, while he pecks your frigid iron lips…

But what about Tim with a cyborg reader? What about someone who is the best of both worlds? Indiffenitly entwined.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who spends countless nights slaving away on the perfect imitations of the limbs you have lost. You were once a hero like him, another one of Gotham's beckons whose light was snuffed out by the the evil that roams within this city. You survived a fate much like his brother's only in this story Tim was there to rescue you from death's embrace.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who intwines your nerve ends with wires, at first it feels like sand crawling beneath your skin, gliding through your veins. The phantom pain rings inside your head, a macabre symphony. You close your eyes and command movement, command a thing you thought impossible to miss. Your new fingers twitch your wrist moves. You fall into Tim's chest sobbing as he tries to comfort you. Still, you don't miss the satisfied smile he tries to hide.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who insists on bettering your new body. On adding weapons and gadgets and lavish accessories. Who makes you stand in the lab for hours on end as he tweaks and plays with your cybernetics, who cuts and adds without permission. Who talks and talks about what he's doing and how much he adores you. Despite the pure love lacing each word you can't help but break out in a cold sweat.

✦ Yandere! Tim Drake, who's changed so much of your body. Who's made you forget where the cybernetics end and you begin. Yandere Tim Drake who kisses across the sacred borders of skin and iron. Yandere Tim Drake whose eyes gleam so terrifyingly and joyously when he looks at you. Who dubs you his perfect creation and kisses you so passionately, while you fight the urge to gag.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Wherever I’m With You

Pairing: Poly!141 x reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, emotional reunion, brief mention of war, longing, fluff, affirmations of love.

Author's Note: Inspired by Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. Needed some softness in my life so here we are.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of a record spinning in the background. A soft melody drifted through the air, blending with the aroma of a home-cooked meal—if you could call a hastily thrown-together pasta that. You moved about the kitchen, absentmindedly swaying to the music as you set the table, humming along to the familiar tune.

Your thoughts were elsewhere. They were always elsewhere, stuck on four men who had taken your heart with them when they left for their mission. It had been too long. The silence had been unbearable, the few brief messages you had received doing little to soothe the ache of missing them. Every night, you lay in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, wondering if they were safe, if they were thinking of you, if they missed home as much as you missed them.

The record spun on, the lyrics spilling through the speakers like a promise.

“Home is wherever I’m with you…"

You sniffled, stirring the pot of sauce, blinking back the sting of loneliness. It wasn’t fair. They should be here, laughing, eating, teasing you about how much you worried over them. They should be home.

You glanced at the clock. Another empty night, it seemed. Your chest tightened, but you shook your head, forcing yourself to keep moving. You had made their favorite meal, not knowing when they would return, but doing it anyway. It was a ritual, something to make you feel connected to them.

And then—

A knock at the door.

Your breath hitched.

You turned slowly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Hope and fear warred within you. What if it was bad news? What if—

The door swung open.

Simon. Johnny. John. Kyle.

Battle-worn, exhausted, but alive.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. They were real. They were here.

Tears welled in your eyes, and then you were moving, your feet barely touching the ground as you launched yourself at them. Johnny caught you first, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his body warm and solid. A breathless chuckle rumbled from his chest, but you could hear the emotion laced within it.

"God, I missed you," you gasped, burying your face into his shoulder.

"We missed you more, bonnie," Johnny murmured, squeezing you like he never wanted to let go.

Before you could respond, you were passed from one pair of arms to the next. Kyle kissed your temple, murmuring a quiet, "Love, we thought about you every damn day."

John held you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your hair. "Didn’t feel right, being away this long."

Simon was the last to pull you in. He didn’t say much, but his grip was firm, grounding. His forehead rested against yours for a long moment before he exhaled. "Missed you, too."

Your heart clenched, overwhelmed by the love and relief in the room. You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head as you took them in.

"You’re home. You’re finally home."

Johnny grinned, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion in them. "Aye, and it smells bloody amazing in here."

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. "I made dinner, but I didn’t think you’d be back tonight."

"Surprise, love." John’s voice was warm, full of affection. "Wouldn’t miss a home-cooked meal for the world."

Simon gave you a look, something soft hidden behind those dark eyes. He didn’t have to say anything—you knew.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and motioned toward the table. "Well, sit down. Eat. Tell me everything."

As they moved into the kitchen, the record still spun in the background, the song reaching its chorus once more.

"Home, let me come home, home is wherever I’m with you…"

Laughter filled the space as stories were shared between bites of food. Johnny animatedly described a moment in the mission where he swore Kyle almost got them all killed. Kyle shot back with an exasperated, "You’re one to talk, mate!" as John shook his head, smirking into his drink. Simon listened, quiet and not ready to speak yet but present, his hand resting on your knee beneath the table, grounding you in the moment.

The warmth of them, their presence, their voices—it was everything you had been longing for.

After dinner, you insisted they shower, knowing they’d all feel better. One by one, they took turns, and by the time they emerged, they looked more like themselves, exhaustion still present but softened. You had already set up the couch with extra blankets, knowing someone would crash there at some point, but they had other plans.

"No way in hell we’re sleeping apart tonight," Kyle said, pulling you into his side as he led the way to your room.

Your heart swelled. "I was hoping you’d say that."

You curled up on the bed, surrounded by them, wrapped in warmth and the steady rise and fall of their breathing. Johnny lay beside you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Kyle was at your other side, his hand resting over your waist. John and Simon were close, their presence solid, protective.

The record had stopped playing, but the lyrics still echoed in your mind as you drifted off, safe in their arms.

Home is wherever I’m with you.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜