#private chef au

[aqpippin]

Hi my love what if you post a little bit of the private chef au <3 for me <3

for you ??? anything <3 <3

I just really wanna do a fic featuring arguably my favourite trope — food as a metaphor for love/I want us both to eat well etc

this is without a doubt my least developed wip but basically —

gigi goode is a busy gal. jackie cox is a good cook. gigi usually ends her days sitting on the countertop with a glass of wine talking to jackie while she cooks. gigi tends to jackie’s wounds. jackie teaches gigi basic knife skills. jackie, in turn, tends to gigi’s wounds. it’s all very wholesome.

I haven’t worked on it a great deal more than that but one of my favourite tv shows is please like me where each episode is named after a food that is featured somewhere in the episode. so it’s like 👀 do I dare do a slow burn multi chap and name each chapter after a dish or do I just smack it out like the impatient goblin I am

[mariatesstruther]

thinking about an au in which maria miller is a high profile celebrity or film industry laywer and tommy is her personal chef :)

it kinda got long so hey here’s a cut. mariatommy lovers pls enjoy

maria is always working herself to the bone, so much so that she’s already hired a personal stylist, an executive assistant, and two assistants for her assistant. all her clients tell her that she works too hard, deserves a break, but she honestly loves her life—she just has a little bit of an issue taking care of herself outside of her work, is all. it’s not a big deal, at least not to her. but at tess’s insistence suggestion, she hires a personal chef; apparently, she needs someone besides herself to make sure her fridge is stocked, to remind to eat when she’s not working, to remind her to drink water in the morning before coffee (and okay, tess. that’s fair.)

in comes tommy miller, one of the executive chefs from miller brother’s cuisine. together, tommy and joel have established a longstanding culinary empire: what started as a chilean-fusion mom-and-pop in austin developed into a series of high-profile restaurants all over the country, as well as a private chef gig tommy decided to start on the side. he got set up with maria through tess, a longtime celebrity client of them both, who suggests that working for her would be good for him—whatever that means. he’s heard her name a few times, just from being familiar with people business, but has no idea what he’s in for when he first shows up at her three-story luxury condo door. he’s struck first by how beautiful she is, with her flawless, glowing skin and long, flowing silk-pressed hair. he’s struck second by how smooth her voice is as she introduces himself and welcomes him in—she says it’s a mess, which is ridiculous, as the only thing remotely out of place is a near-empty glass of wine on her coffee table, sat next to two laptops and a pile of papers so big it gives him an instant headache. he’s struck third and most intensely by the fact that the only thing she has in her fridge is leftover pasta, a box of frozen tempura shrimp, and four bottles of rosé. it alarms him. a woman who works this hard and is this fucking beautiful needs more than scraps in her kitchen, he thinks. he gets to work immediately

maria’s first impression of tommy is that he looks more like a cowboy than a cook. he’s sans a hat, but he’s wearing western boots and a fur-lined leather jacket and has a belt with a western-style buckle that’s bigger than her fist. he calls her ma’am in a low scratchy voice, offers his hand when they go downstairs to see her freezer, thanks her with a close-lipped, charming smile when she offers him a glass of water. he listens intently while she explains what her schedule is like and follows her politely as she walks him around her kitchen—she tries not to blush when she realizes just how empty it is, but he doesn’t seem to judge, which she appreciates. they sit down at her dining room table, the big bulk of him swamping her luxury klarel chair, and he takes down her dietary restrictions and preferences like he is doing bible study. maria doesn’t remember the last time someone listened and dedicated their attention to her so intently—it makes her hot, and it makes her excited to be taken care of by him. he explains his plans for her first week, a specially-curated menu meant to give them both an idea of what he can offer her, and everything sounds delicious. by the time he leaves, her mouth is watering and her stomach is tight with hungry anticipation

at first maria doesn’t think she’ll see all that much of him—she assumes he’ll either be in her kitchen, leaving her to work, or dropping premade food off for her to heat up when she wants to eat. but he’s always there, the first face she see’s when she wakes in the morning and when comes home from work at night (not that she’s complaining. he’s got a good face). at first it’s to get constant feedback on his dishes for her, but then it’s just because it’s what they’re used to. he’s always asking her what she wants and what she likes, and always makes sure she gets it in record time. once, love-drunk and halfway to a food coma from a machas a la parmesana he’d made, she joked to him that he’s the most perfect man she’s ever had in her life. it makes him blush over the banana pudding he was making for her, at the time

so he stays with her for months, and then months turn into a year, and then a year turns into three. they become family, mostly because he has so much of it and she has none. joel and her and two peas in a pod, and his daughters ellie and sarah become two of her favorite little beings in the whole world. tommy becomes a fixture in her life not just at home, but in her office, too. he brings her lunches and makes extra for her assistants, who always look at him with hearts and starts in their eyes. at least once a month, he and joel cater for her office, bringing lunch for all her staff. all her coworkers joke that she should marry him, and eventually, she really does start to consider it.

once at three am, she came home from a night out with tess a little too drunk and texted him to request a southern style lobster roll. she expected him to be asleep, because he’s the one between the two of them that actually makes an effort to get some shuteye, and that she would be treated to her craving maybe the following day. but by the time she’d gotten out of the shower, however, he’d texted back a simple on my way—within the next hour, he was at her door with 5lbs of lobster, fresh-baked butter rolls (where the fuck he got fresh rolls at 4 fucking am, she had no fucking clue. she still doesn’t), and his homemade cajun seasoning mix in hand.

that night, they each eat two rolls and share a bowl of the potato chips they’d made from scratch together earlier that week. they curl up on her couch, spending the rest of the morning bouncing between kitchen nightmares and scandal. between episodes, she kisses him for the first time, and he kisses her back. the next day, she offeres him the guest room. he accepts

for @clickergossip @ameerawrites and @bumblepony ofc bc i feel like yall would vibe with this and are always keeping ME fed with your brilliant fics

[sweeetsh]

she’s wondering just how badly one can fuck up

[valeriianz]

I've had this Dreaming The Proposal AU sitting in my drafts for a while. Then @voukkake comes out with this art and I figured it was time to brush off the dust and share what I'd written lol. This is seriously all I'm going to write so if anyone is interested I'm begging you to pick this up. I'm dying to read Dream awkwardly interacting with Hob's family (also @valiantstarlights suggestion that Betty White is Destiny?? ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT). Anyway...

------------------

Dream is about to be deported because his visa application has been denied. He is in the middle of a meeting with his lawyers when Hob, his secretary, pops in the room to inform Dream of a very important phone call and Dream comes up with the insane plan to marry Hob to keep his immigration status.

He gestures for Hob to come over and Hob, clueless, wanders into the room and stands next to Dream, who takes him by the arm and tugs him just a little bit further to stand awkwardly close.

Dream announces their engagement and Hob stands there, shell shocked and feels his mouth moving against his will. That yeah, they are getting married. They are in love, sure. It isn’t until they leave the office, following Dream back to his, that Hob’s brain seems to come back online.

“What just happened in there?”

Dream grouses, head down, already back to his work as if nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use Hob as a pawn in his scheme to get around his denied visa application.

“They were going to make Morningstar editor-in-chief.” Is all Dream says, disdain dripping from every word. He still hasn’t looked up.

Hob stands there, still as a statue. His head is swimming with words, with emotions. Anger, disbelief, betrayal… and a small tiny flicker of undeniable interest that he hastily stomps out.

He manages to put the pieces together rather quickly though, while Dream continues sifting through paperwork.

“This is illegal,” Hob manages to croak out, brows furrowing. 

“Oh, please. The government looks for terrorists, not book publishers.” Dream’s head is still down in his paperwork.

Hob blinks, taking a step up to Dream’s desk. “I'm not marrying you.”

“Sure you are.” Dream sets aside a stack of papers and finally gives Hob his attention. “Because if you don't, your dreams of ‘touching millions of lives with the written word’ are dead.” 

Hob’s jaw drops. That was a line, corny as it was, that he’d used in the panel interview for this job. Three years ago.

----------------------

“Were you not in that room? I could get fined, I’ll go to jail over this. If you want me on this deal, you will promote me to editor.”

Without even glancing up from his phone, Dream scoffs.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then I guess you’re screwed. Buh-bye.” Hob turns with a flourish and has to bite back a grin at how Dream splutters behind him and grabs him by the arm.

“Fine– fine! Editor.” His face seems to go through the five stages of grief. He drops his hold on Hob.

“And You’ll publish my manuscript.” Hob throws in. In for a penny.

Dream’s brows narrow and he shakes as if he’s physically controlling the urge to stamp his foot.

“Sure. I’ll publish your hack manuscript.”

“Good.” Hob slips his hands in his pants pockets, staring at Dream, deciding on one last nail in the coffin.

“Now do it properly.”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. “Do what properly?”

“Propose. Like you mean it.”

Dream’s entire body seizes up, but he manages not to let it show, distracting himself by slipping his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks and clasping his hands in front of him.

“Will you marry me?”

“No.” Hob, the arrogant bastard, is visibly biting back a smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”

Dream takes a long, steadying breath through his nose.

“Hob Gadling. Will you–”

“And get on your knees.”

Dream absolutely refuses to decipher the thrill that shoots through his body at Hob’s command. Instead he keeps his mask of irritation and indifference on as he scans the crowd around them. They are still outside the courthouse, and the concrete sidewalk is going to potentially tear Dream’s Hugo Boss black wool pants.

So he carefully lowers himself, scowling as the smirk on Hob’s face only widens as Dream slowly settles onto the ground.

Once he’s as comfortable as Dream’s going to get, he clears his throat.

“Hob Gadling,” he glares at his subordinate from under his lashes. “Will you fucking marry me?”

Hob curls his lips in mock consideration, looking up past Dream’s head. He rocks back on his heels and nods with a forlorn sigh.

“Okay.” He still hasn’t met Dream’s gaze. “Could've done without the sarcasm but it will do. See you at the airport tomorrow.” 

And turns and walks away, leaving Dream to fend for himself on the ground.

[softquietsteadylove]

Yknow what’s missing? Hampton AU. May I kindly request a continuation of this one?

Thena stood by the vegetable beds, trying to seem like she wasn't waiting deliberately. She was just here - casually - enjoying the morning sun. It would be strange for her to wait in the garden in hopes of running into Gil while he was collecting the day's ingredients.

She was his employer, she couldn't risk doing anything unseemly or inappropriate. He was the best private chef she had ever managed to procure, and arguably the only one whose company she had ever tolerate. She had even come to enjoy it.

Ever since he had kept her company during her dreadful dinner party she had come to crave his presence more. She had been thus far restraining herself from being too conversational with him, out of fear of seeming untoward. But perhaps having a friendly relationship with her chef wouldn't be so uncouth--they could be friends.

Friends were not her forte. Even through her life in various boarding schools, she wasn't particularly socially minded. How could she have been, after growing up in this massive estate with only Karun to mind her?

Thena checked her phone again, toying with some of the stray hairs slipping from her ponytail. Nothing like 'casually' waiting for someone and checking the time. Kingo would laugh himself into hysterics if he could see her.

He hadn't been at the party, but she did mention that she had managed to avoid most everyone from the worst families to know. He didn't yet know that she had done so by hiding in the basement with Gil, enjoying crudites with his hoodie over her shoulders.

"Thena?"

She spun around, slipping her phone into her leggings pocket. "Gil, morning, how are you?"

That was a lot to pack into one greeting.

He smiled, though, as he always did. He walked up to her, basket in hand, although he wasn't changed into his pristine white chef's jacket yet. "Good, good, getting everything ready for today. I have the weekend menu all planned."

"Oh?" she prompted, hopefully in a way that wouldn't betray her lack of natural conversational skills.

"Well, I know it's not often you have a weekend totally off," he shrugged one shoulder, somewhat inviting her along as he walked up the garden beds and towards the herbs. "I bought some fresh Atlantic salmon, I've got lemons from the greenhouse, I'm gonna pair it with some really nice fennel pasta--you'll love it!"

It already sounded divine, and the way he so passionately described every dish he made always had her entranced. She had never had even close to the passion Gil had for food for anything in her spoiled little life.

"I'm sure I will," she sufficed to say, rather than gush about how she already couldn't stand waiting. She strolled alongside him, watching him eye the tomatoes. "You have yet to make something displeasing, I hope you know."

"Well, maybe I thought you were just too nice to say," he replied in a playful tone. He leaned against the brick edge, reaching for the deepest in colour.

Thena averted her eyes from the muscles in his back. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

"Do you have this morning off too?" he asked, leaning back with his reward and placing them in the basket ever so gently.

No, she had two different meetings she had requested to move, just for this little charade. Not that Karun knew that specifically. But she knew that Gil would be out here longer than usual to collect ingredients for the weekend. This was the perfect time.

She smiled, "serendipitous, isn't it?"

"Lucky me," he grinned and even gave her a wink.

The man was trying to kill her.

She sighed as he reached for some mint in the next section. "Are you certain you want to stay all weekend? Your room is ready, of course, but I can also have you driven home."

"Ah, I don't mind, I have some recipes I've kinda been wanting to try out, and the kitchen here has a lot more room for me to experiment with."

She was happy to let him experiment. Sometimes he discovered the most wonderful things while he was doing so. "Is that so?"

He looked back at her mid-lean, "do you like lavender?"

She restrained herself from making a face. "I admit I have only had it a number of times, at teas and such. I would not want to say I dislike it as a whole if I've only had poorly made creations of it."

"Ah," he nodded, reaching for some anyway. "Well, we can start with some subtle stuff and go from there."

She laughed faintly as he swatted at a bug buzzing around him before arranging his basket again. "I will look forward to it, then."

His eyes met hers, and she wondered for a moment if he could tell that she had waited all morning just to exchange these precious few words with him. Her hands fidgeted behind her back, "Gil, I-"

"Ah!" he hissed, slapping his neck and flinching sideways. He wiped his hand away, shaking it. "Shit, I thought it was a big fly."

"Are you hurt?" she asked, halfway between leaning closer into his space and not wanting to risk seeming even more desperate. Her hands hovered as he rubbed his neck more.

"I'm fine, just kinda stung," he grumbled before wiping his hands off, metaphorically ridding himself of the nuisance. "Let's get inside."

"Let's," she murmured quietly, eyeing him as his hand lifted faintly. It might have grazed the small of her back but it never landed. "Gil?"

"Yeah?"

She frowned, watching as the veins in his neck became more prominent. The healthy colour of his skin became overtaken by a more aggressive red. "You don't seem well, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I-" he paused, clearing his throat once, and then more aggressively. He tugged at the neck of his t-shirt. "Throat kinda-"

He broke into a coughing fit. It only made the colour in his face worsen, caught between flushing and going pale.

"Gil," Thena repeated, but he swerved. She did her best to catch him, but she underestimated how heavy all those muscles were. "Gil!"

He gasped for air, his hand on his throat in a vain attempt to solve the problem. His other hand floated out for help.

"I'm here, I'm here, it's okay!" she did her best to assure him, holding the floating hand tightly between her own. He was a puddle in her lap, trying to breathe. "Karun!"

It took him only a few seconds, but she feared that was more than Gil had. "Madame!"

"Get the first aid kit! I think it's anaphylaxis!" Tears sprung to her eyes as she looked down at Gil amidst his agony. He was staring at her, asking for help she couldn't provide. "I'm sorry Gil, sh, it's okay, you're going to be fine."

Gil looked at her like his life was flashing before his eyes.

She bent over him, squeezing his hand. "Please!"

"Madame, I have it!" Karun declared, running with the epipen in his hand.

She snatched it from his hand, removing the cap and jabbing it into Gil's leg, against the denim of his jeans. "Please work."

The sound of him gasping was like nothing she could have imagined. It was certainly not something she wanted to experience ever again. He coughed some more, even as she propped him more upright, but he was breathing again. The swelling around his throat went down quickly and visibly.

"Gil?" she sniffed, trying not to be the one crying when he had nearly died in her arms. It took the length of her arm to hold his shoulders up, and even then she couldn't quite embrace him the way he probably needed.

After a few more pants of breath he blinked, "holy shit."

Karun, already calling the ambulance, patted Gil's knee, "very good, sir. Fine pulling through."

Gil gave a dazed thumbs up to Karun, looking up at the sky. His limbs moved like they were too heavy to control, but he managed to turn his head to look at her. "Thena?"

"Hey," she smiled, blinking her tears into her eyelashes as she focused on his face. "Can you breathe?"

He tested it, taking a deep breath, consciously expanding his chest and back as he did. "Y-Yeah, I can, now. Thanks to you, I guess."

"Well," she managed a faint smile, "Karun brought the thing."

"I, uh," Gil blinked at the orange epipen responsible for saving his life. "I didn't know I was allergic."

"Nor did I," she frowned. Because, had she known, she never would have allowed him out in the gardens at all. Or at least not without medical supervision. "We will have to see to it that you get one of these to have with you at all times."

Gil didn't exactly argue. He remained in her hold, both of them only half listening to Karun recite the situation and their location to the medical authorities.

He turned back to them with a crisp nod. "They are on their way, sir. Were you still anaphylactic I would have called for a chopper, but I believe you will be well enough to wait for them to arrive."

"Yeah, no worries, dude."

Thena smiled against Gil's hair. They had a funny relationship, but it charmed her to no end that they got along so well. "We'll be right here."

He made a small sound at that, letting her bury her nose in his hair (propriety as his employer be damned). He mumbled something.

"What was that?" she whispered, brushing her hand over his cheek (forgetting herself completely).

"The tomatoes," he repeated a little more strongly. "They didn't break, did they?"

Thena laughed, although her tears came again as well. "Gil!"

"I need those," he attempted to sit up more within her embrace against her knees. But she tugged him back again. "They're for the shakshuka for breakfast tomorrow!"

"Leave them," she soothed, rubbing his arm and patting his chest. "There will be more tomatoes."

He sighed more heavily, at least sounding more like himself. "At least put them to the side. Don't let the ambulance guys break 'em--they're perfect!"

"I will take care of the produce, sir," Karun assured him, indeed picking up their dropped bounty carefully. "You must focus on resting. I'm sure the Madame will make sure you are well situated."

She glared at Karun, positively flushed at the implicating tone in his voice.

"Cool," Gil gave him another thumbs up as Karun scurried to the house and out of their way. He looked at her, as she held him the way a knight might hold a maiden. "Sorry to ruin your morning."

She laughed again, although maybe later she would admonish him for giving her the fright of her life. "You're breathing; I'll call it a very lucky morning."

[crimeronan]

there's an amity POV thing i wanna write for the princess luz AU, but it's truly plotless n largely just involves her being a spectator to one event that has already happened within the AU canon. which is fine i guess, i can do whatever i want and all that

but. i must admit. that 98% of the reason that i want to write this is.... just for amity watching hunter and luz be How They Are. & having a very long moment where she's genuinely and not-unkindly like. okay. Wow. you two really truly honest to god are complete freaks. god bless, love and light, diplomatic phrasing and all that, but jesus FUCKING CHRI-

[strandnreyes]

today I realized that I haven’t written a fic that’s not established relationship since July and I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I started doing it again

[namjinreads]

READ ON AO3

[gayhoediaz]

please do tell more about the private chef au 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 (only if you want to of course)

sure! i talked a little about it like a year ago now but i think a lot of followers have come and gone since then and i have also changed and adjusted some things, so:

the general premise is that buck is a model/actor, and eddie owns a restaurant. he used to be a private chef, but he's a little bit too busy these days - however, buck really needs a private chef, and bobby knows both of them so he asks eddie to do it, ergo kind of brings them together - nods to canon, hello.

buck likes eddie and wants to get to know him, so he asks if he does private cooking lessons - which he doesn't, but he says yes anyway. so that kind of becomes a routine, and they become friends over a period of time, mostly spent in buck's kitchen - usually late at night because they're both busy.

it's just a slow burn, and a lot of tension. there's also an added layer of 'we shouldn't' because buck is this rich, celebrity-adjacent guy in his 20s, and eddie is in his 40s, just kind of living day by day in the real world. (since eddie is older, christopher is off at his first year in college, but he's still featured heavily.) so there's absolutely an element of forbidden love even if the only people forbidding them are themselves.

there's more but i don't want to spoil too much of it. so that's it. private chef!au coming to you at some point during the hiatus. hopefully.

[trollocs-ooc]

b!eleven: to me the troll 7/11 big gulp cup is normal

literally he has to get everything in big portions and it's probably still too little its ridiculous. No wonder he's so skinny

[izel-reblogs]

oooohhhh my god. oh my god omg hy god oh my god

ash. ash please put a warning before you give us such a glorious, magnificent, lovely, resplendent, gorgeous, ethereal, stunning piece!!! my eyes are bleeding from beholding the sheer beauty of this

Maybe John should just have kissed sang arthur alright again with his magic hair

Yes. That's a Tangled song

FLOWER SYMBOLISM YAP UNDER THE CUT

The flowers are chamomiles, and they stand for patience in hard times. IF THAT DOESNT SCREAMMMM MY TWO WET CAT BOYS JOHN AND ARTHUR

The flowers are connected with calmness and peace, and next to that with the sun, the moon (and also the stars). I love love loooove that I am mixing up malevolent with celestial symbolism by now

And of course. OF COURSE it can stand for love. Which suits them too as we know since part 43🌚

Anyways I hope you enjoyed this tiny comic thingy (which took way too long) and my flower yap, bye gay people in my phone

[mariatesstruther]

okay so im writing a little bit of the personal chef tommy x famous lawyer maria au and theyre just so funny when they finally get together i love them. quick text conversation, right after they first get together

Tommy: Hey baby quick question

Tommy: Are you allergic to latex

Maria: no why

Maria: for condoms?

Tommy: ????

Tommy: No! for GLOVES

Tommy: I’m teaching you how to make clam chowder tonight and we wanna keep those pretty nails clean

Maria: oh lol okay

Maria: you’re sweet. no allergies. thank you

Maria: gtg meeting starting

Tommy: Knock em dead baby

Tommy: btw not to be too forward but should I also pickup some condoms

Maria: not too forward. yes 🫶🏾

Tommy: Have a good meeting

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (1) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist

note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !

warnings: rawdogging, dirty talk, impregnation kink, daddy kink, creampie !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

//

the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two. 

“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.

she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you; 

“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”

just then, jin answers the door.

he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin. 

yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together. 

it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic. 

the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.

the dream they deserve to have become a reality. 

“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.” 

you roll your eyes at him.

“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”

nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”

“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?” 

nam joon puts his hands up.

“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”

you share a look with hyemi.

“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”

jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you. 

“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”

as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.

you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.

“dinner is served!” you announce.

as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.

“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.

“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.

your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.

you smile and sit beside him.

“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”

he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.

your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.

“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”

“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.

as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“holy shit, ___."

“you’ve outdone yourself.”

“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”

everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.

then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.

puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.

"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."

hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”

the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.

everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.

as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.

“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”

you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”

“not like this. not like you.”

you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”

he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.

then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.

your heart begins to race.

yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.

“sure, ___. whatever you want.”

once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.

“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”

taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”

jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.

“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”

suddenly, everyone sits up.

“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”

“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”

as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.

the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.

with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.

“whose going first?”

“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”

“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.

“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”

jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”

“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.

defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.

“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.

“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.

jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”

the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.

it lands on yoongi.

jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”

“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”

laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.

the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.

without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.

“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”

as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;

shit.

it's me.

the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.

you two are alone. 

when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring. 

though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells. 

maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food. 

truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.

not when you two first met.

not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.

not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you. 

yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny. 

whatever it is; it just remains as it is.

over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.

“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”

“you’re still here?” yoongi teases. 

you roll your eyes at him. 

“unfortunately.” 

“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”

“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”

yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door. 

“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."

yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."

“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”

he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”

"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”

he pauses, unamused.

"you really want to know?"

you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.

yoongi leans in slightly. 

"fine. it was you."

your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.

you feel butterflies. 

attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"

yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”

a beat. 

“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”

yoongi tilts his head. 

“answered it like what?”

you chew your bottom lip. 

just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second. 

he pulls you in—

yoongi kisses you for the first time. 

“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”

you lift your head and watch him. 

yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair. 

you moan. 

yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him. 

as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.

“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.” 

you blush, tightening your lips. 

“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”

yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”

you can’t help but laugh. 

“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?” 

he shrugs. 

“you have nice tits too.” 

he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips. 

“shit. let me get a condom—”

you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look. 

“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”

yoongi chuckles. 

“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”

“what?” you ask in disbelief.

yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.

“too busy. too tired. too lazy.” 

you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”

yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.

he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”

you laugh and hit his bare shoulders. 

he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes. 

“f-fuck.”

you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”

your words are music to yoongi’s ears. 

he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit. 

“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”

“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.” 

you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn. 

then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.

the pleasure. 

yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth. 

you suck it. 

yoongi watches. 

he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back. 

he loves it. 

the sight is beyond beautiful. 

it’s life changing to him. 

then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode. 

yoongi feels you tighten. 

his dick gets harder. 

“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”

his voice is low and drips with sin. 

just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out. 

you reposition yourself. 

this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you. 

yoongi pounds you. 

like, to the point where you’re practically screaming. 

“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"

again, it’s music to his ears. 

“i’m gonna cum—”

you reach down and pull his dick out. 

“w-what—”

you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed. 

“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together. 

you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him. 

“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?” 

yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”

batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”

“yes.”

“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”

yoongi hisses. 

he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;

fuck.

i have to give it you.

you’re too pretty to say no to. 

“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”

you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be. 

“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.” 

“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”

you nod viciously. 

“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.” 

with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released. 

“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”

you pout. 

“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”

there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you. 

you’re so special to him.

and you want it so bad… 

yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable. 

but it’s different. 

with you, it’s fucking different. 

you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple. 

perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.

maybe he doesn’t want to.

his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast. 

chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax. 

he tugs your body as close to him as possible. 

yoongi might have lost his mind because—

he folds. 

yoongi cums inside you. 

he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy. 

you play with his hair as he does this. 

then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you. 

a thick silence fills the space between you two. 

“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”

you gulp.

“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”

yoongi chuckles.

he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek. 

“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”

[clegfly]

OUGH THE SILLIES

I am NOT lying when I say I WAS DRAWING THIS CROSSOVER TOO they have a lot of similarities bebehshshs… I probably won’t post it for a while for spoiler purposes BUT YOURS SHAHSH THEYRE SO CUTE… THEYRE EACH HAVING THE EXACT OPPOSITE INTERACTION I LOVE IT (off topic but I love how you doodle mari as some sort of rabid fucking creature it’s so funny every time. She is. Let her be silly)

AND THE ENE EHEBSHDBSH. I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR

Au swap with @clegfly because I’m so autistic

Let’s see what happens if we swap one person per HeroMari couple hehe

This was made in fifteen minutes and is rushed so chill

As you can see both hero’s are still malewifing

How I sleep knowing I left an irritating dot on one of their word bubbles

[rensylph]

>>> 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒

< yandere zhongli x reader ( MAFIA AU ) >

You and two of your friends decided to go to a club to party and the start of your semester in the nation, teyvat. You got drunk and woke up naked in a grand mansion and a man holding your waist and nuzzling against your chest. You thought this would be a normal one night stand and will not be in contact with you but turns out the man has other plans

Warning : implied sexual intimacy, age gap, drinking

Imagine waking up in a hotel suite bigger than your apartment with someone nuzzling close to you, your clothes are scattered around the bedroom, an aching sting in your body lowest parts, a box of empty condoms And the worst hung over in your life.

When you were about to gather your clothes and leave before the person woke up, a hand grabbed your wrist preventing you.

The man has beautiful long locks of brown hair, ember eyes, handsome face features, and a well built body with tattoos of a dragon in his back and arms. Dang you struck gold.

He introduced himself as zhongli, he asked for you to stay a little longer and he will order room service

It was awkward to be honest, you did ask some questions about him but he always gives out a vague answer. As if he's trying not to reveal too much, you didn't pry about it though since he is just a one night stand plus you're in a foreign country there's a high chance you're not gonna see him anymore in the future.

He told his chauffeur to pick you up and drive you home. He seems very well known in the hotel staff every time they pass him they would greet him, it felt awkward of course.

His driver arrives and introduces himself as xiao and he opens the door to the car for you, before getting in he grab your wrist and put a note of his number saying that he had fun and wish to experience it more than one time and then he said he gotta go due to work and you get in the car.

The car ride was quiet and xiao seems to have no intention of making conversation it was just dead silent

And when you arrive at your dorm, your best friend lumine rush towards you and tackle you asking where you were, she said that when she was in the bathroom you disappeared and was entering a limo with a fine gentleman.

You didn't think much of it, since it's college and you have to focus on it. Recently many gifts and flowers were sent from mr zhongli. He even gave you an ember necklace that cost more than tuition. It was 4 million mora meanwhile your tuition cost 1 million mora.

You ask mr zhongli to please stop sending since it causes so much and you don't want to trouble but he just shrugged it off the amount saying it was a little amount and just accepted it.

I mean you do text him often talking about you guys days and meet from time to time but it's Always in fancy restaurants that always cause a fortune to have a table and reservation.

During one of these meetings he pulled out a beautiful ring with a large jade in the front with diamond encrusted around the metal, with two dragons engraving inside the metal.

He proposed saying after you graduated from college, you and him should get married. He will offer everything to you, you don't need to live in that small cramped dorm room you can live in one of his penthouses in the city, you will have xiao drive you and your friends anywhere, instead of eating cup noodles everyday and worried about money, he will have private chefs cook your favorite food as well giving you an allowance every week for you to spend, you don't need to worry about anything just said yes and he will take care of your needs.

It all moves too fast it's been only 6 months and he already wants to get married. You rejected saying that it moves too fast and say you don't see yourself being with him in the future. You said you need space and leave not before paying for your food and tipping the waitress and Mr zhongli just sit their stunt.

For the past few days after the accident you and him haven't talk in a week thinking, you're giving him space after the rejection.

Until when you were alone in the campus garden some one hugged you from behind and whispered in your ear

"if you don't follow me or obey my orders, I will kill everyone on this campus, this is your last chance to stop a massacre of your peers, this is an order "Marry me"