#that's the theme I resonate with at the moment

[windydrawallday]

NOT OKAY TODAY / WORTHY

The comic I wanted to post was the last art of 2024, but because of a sudden power outage, it is now a hybrid that started the "past year" and finished on New Year's Day. The text is not mine! This beautiful poem belongs to the author Jarod K. Anderson, who writes about themes such as mental illness and how one can cope with the aid of nature's lessons. I found this poem on Pinterest when I was trying to distract myself from recent awful moments, and it resonated with me deeply. It reminded me how GOOD I felt when helping people I care about by listening to their doubts, when I treated them well, or when we shared ideas together etc. And it became MORE meaningful when I was the one in need of that help... and these people reached without hesitation 💝. You really get what you give! This poem reminded me my kindness is always worthy to be shared. I wished to portray it in the form of art for everyone who needed to read it too!

I hope this New Year brings more kindness to everyone 💞

Special mention to these peeps who brought me so many sweet moments, who let me be silly, who let me babble about art or vent together about adulting stuff: LUV U ALL TO THE MOON AND BACK AAA 🐾

@grinningghoulie @novalizinpeace @sildrae @ghostbulb @skullydrawsstuff @sug4r-melon @emisatea @frosty-tian @cometchasinglove @mariequitecontrary @spashahoney @nepetacataria-art @spiritshaydra @goobygnarp @ballpitbee @soothedcerberus @ninjakarkki @electricpez @akapen011 @lecanel @joonisstrange @tundra-tiger @lets-try-some-writing @myrablurple @ivycorp @confluencechimera @cerebrocentric-bullet @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal

IF I FORGOT SOMEONE SORRY! (... At which moment did this list grow? Life is made of many surprises)

[grlsbstshot]

Join us for the next chapter of NEON LIGHTS premiering Wednesday

(Don’t miss updates every Wednesday & Saturday for NEON LIGHTS, an original character fanfic. Chapters & Special Extras found on the masterlist.)

IMANI INVITES YOU TO READ HER DIARY By: Vanessa Lawton JAN. 2026

It’s been a year since Imani St. Cirie, the sultry and enigmatic singer-songwriter, made headlines for her surprise EP release, Diary. In the following months, she became an awards show darling. Winning Billboard, AMAs, and even a BRIT Award. It all culminated in a Grammy win in Best R&B Song for the top ten Billboard hit, Kitchen. But since then? Nothing. We sit down with the superstar to find out exactly what's on the horizen.

Exuding a quiet confidence, Imani sits opposite me in the PAPER magazine headquarters. It's a simple interview, one that shouldn't take more than an hour or so but she makes herself comfortable. Imani, dressed in a HOESMAD cropped tee, baggy cargo jeans, and black and white pair of Bathing Apes, there’s a softness to her demeanor that suggests it's been a long year for the superstar. "It's been a year of unexpected successes. I really didn't expect for Diary to be that successful, but I'm grateful. I think it did what it needed to do."

From the heartbreak that inspired her latest EP to the unexpected that has helped her heal, she’s unflinchingly honest. "Love is tough. It's complicated. I don't think it's meant to be easy, but whatever is real, you'll fight for it. No matter what."

This is a different Imani—one who’s no longer defined by her past but empowered by it. And as she prepares to step back into the spotlight, it’s clear that she’s not just reclaiming her voice—she’s rewriting her story.

VL: Diary was a huge success last year. How did it feel to see it resonate so deeply with your fans? Imani: “It’s so crazy because I just released that EP to let all these emotions I felt out. I never thought that so many people would like it. Like damn, y’all really fuck with me.”

VL: Your lyrics often feel deeply personal. Do you find it difficult to share so much of yourself through your music?

Imani: “No. Music is a release for me. I use my songwriting as a way to get everything out. The hardest part for me is releasing it to the world because like you said it is deeply personal.”

VL: What’s been the most rewarding moment in your career over the past year?

Imani: “When I won a Grammy for ‘Kitchen,’ like wow. I’m still in shock about that.”

VL: Fans have speculated about the themes of Diary. Was it inspired by personal experiences?

Imani: “Yes, but all my art is. Where else am I supposed to draw inspiration from?”

VL: You and James Lucas have a shared history in music. Do you think you’ll ever collaborate?

Imani: “I don’t know…that’s a question he should probably answer.” 

VL: What’s next for you musically? Can fans expect a full album soon?

Imani: “I wouldn’t say soon! I’ve been so busy with videos and promo for Diary that I haven’t gotten a chance to go to the studio but I’m always writing and I want to release something next year.” 

VL: You’ve been linked to several high-profile individuals this year. How do you handle the constant media scrutiny of your personal life?

Imani: “I try to ignore it because the media tends to think they know everything about Imani but I promise you they don’t know even know a quarter of me. So I try not to let it bother me.” 

VL: You’ve been very private about your relationships lately. Is that intentional?

Imani: “Yes, because it’s no one’s business but my own. After my relationship with my ex, I think I’m owed some privacy.”

VL: What’s been the biggest lesson you’ve learned about yourself in the past year?

Imani: “That it’s okay to sit in your sorrow sometimes. No matter how much you try, you can’t run from it. You can’t hide from it. So it’s okay to sit and wallow for a little bit.” 

VL: You’ve spoken before about the importance of self-care. What does that look like for you now?

Imani: “Right now? It looks like a day off with sleeping in, a bubble bath with a seaweed face mask, some pasta and a marathon of Sex and the City. I know that ain’t y’all ideal self-care but it’s mine.” 

VL: What role has your family or close friends played in supporting you this year? 

Imani: “My aunt has been the most vital part to Diary’s rollout. I told her what I wanted to do and what publications I wanted to. She handled it all for me.” 

VL: Are there any misconceptions about you that you’d like to clear up?

Imani: “Nah, take what you heard about me and double that shit!” 

VL: What’s one thing fans would be surprised to learn about you?

Imani: “That I’m really a happy person. They always coming up to me, asking me if I’m okay because they heard such-and-such song and are concerned but guys, I promise y’all I’m fine.” 

VL: How do you handle creative blocks or moments of doubt in your career?

Imani: “I try to write through it. Like even if the lyric is trash as fuck, I write it out just so I can get it out of my head.” 

VL: If you could give advice to your younger self, what would it be?

Imani: “Everything will be okay. I know things are looking bleak right now but you will be fine! Crashing out all the time ain’t worth it, girl.” 

The late afternoon sun was starting to set but a few rays spilled through the wide windows of Jameson’s New York brownstone, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floors. He sat at his kitchen table, the picture of comfort. T-shirt, jogging pants, no socks. The room was quiet, except for the occasional hum of the city outside. A glass of water sat untouched on the table beside him. His phone lay in his hand, the screen glowing with the headline of an article he hadn’t been prepared to see.

Imani Invites You to Read Her Diary

He stared at the cover for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the link. She looked gorgeous, the picture of perfection. Her eyes carried a calm he hadn’t seen in them before. Maybe he was imagining it but she looked...like she was thriving without him. He felt his chest tighten. It had been a full, agonizing year since he’d seen her. Since she’d walked out of his life. And now, here she was, staring back at him from his screen like a ghost that refused to stay buried.

He finally tapped the link, the words unfolding before him like a slow unraveling of a wound he thought had begun to heal.

"After my relationship with my ex, I think I'm owed some privacy." she’d said. He read those words over and over, the simplicity of them cutting deeper than he expected but she was right. They were high profile in the best ways but also in some of the worst ways. She deserved to keep her cards close to her chest. It didn't stop the blogs from talking about her...and Amir. And Vivienne. He'd seen photographic proof that she had moved on. It seemed that space had finally evolved to over for her.

His eyes scanned the article, taking in her reflections on the past year. She spoke of growth, of self-care, of understanding herself. There was a brief mention of him but she didn't dwell. Part of him was proud of her.

Jameson leaned back against the chair and waited for deep mournful pain to hit him. It always did when he imagined the rest of his life without her...but remarkably, it didn't come. He felt hurt when she had moved on. He drank and closed himself off, eventually began therapy when his grief had taken a worrying turn, and even moved across the country to get away from his feelings for her. After a year of pouring his emotions into his music and six months into some semblance of a relationship with Camille -- Jameson had finally stopped grieving.

He still loved her, that much was clear. But he had finally accepted that their lives wouldn't merge again. He could read the article about her, feel the pain, and then...simply trust in the knowledge that she was happy.

His doorbell rang and the sound startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. He set the phone down, the screen dimming as he stood. For a brief moment, he considered not answering, but the ringing came again.

He hadn't been expecting anyone. Still, he got up and tried to leave thoughts of Imani in his kitchen -- and was met by the image of a pretty brunette on his front stoop.

Camille Lefevre.

Her long, brown hair was pulled up into a topknot, her usual style when she wasn't strutting down runways or covering magazines. If you passed her on the street, her beauty would be obvious and you'd immediately know she was a supermodel.

They met at an afterparty, amid his emotional spiraling. Imani was on her second new relationship in six months. He watched with envy, a sick gnawing in his gut. He hadn’t been able to escape updates. It ate him up to see her move on when he seemed stuck in a rut. His mother had been so concerned that she damn near moved into his home until he moved to New York. To stop her from coming with him, he promised to start therapy. He started going out more -- though he didn't enjoy it.

Camille had seen through his disgruntled demeanor. She made him laugh at a time when people didn’t even get to see him smile. She was bold, kind, driven. She wanted him and she was going to have him. Casual sex, late-night conversations, and dinner dates followed over the next few months when either of them had the time. They didn’t give it a name but it was something.

Jameson opened the door to find her holding a bag of takeout and wearing that bright, effortless smile he’d grown to appreciate. She was a steady presence in his life, a warm light that had helped guide him through some of his darkest moments. But right now, standing in front of her, he felt the weight of the article still pressing on his chest.

"Hey," she said, stepping inside and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I figured you probably forgot to eat, so I brought reinforcements."

Jameson forced a smile. "That's cute. She came to feed me."

"Well, someone has to." She tossed over her shoulder before heading into the kitchen. She set the bag on the counter and began unpacking containers, chattering away about the upcoming party for his album, excitement evident in her voice. Jameson tried to focus, nodding and murmuring responses where appropriate, but his mind kept drifting back to Imani’s words.

Camille turned to him, her brows furrowing slightly. "You okay? You seem...distracted."

Jameson hesitated, the truth caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His first instinct was to lie to her but he heard his therapist clear in his mind. 'Is this lie protecting you, or is it holding you back?' He sighed and told her the truth. "I read an article today. About Imani."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was kind, patient, and always there when he needed her. She deserved his honesty, but he wasn’t sure how to give it to her without hurting her.

Camille’s expression softened, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes. "Oh."

She knew about him and Imani. Who didn't. When they first began, he tried to disconnect from Camille -- knowing he was still caught up on Imani but she let him know that she understood. She was taking a risk with him. It gave him the courage to take the same risk.

"It...caught me off guard," he continued, setting his chopsticks down. “I didn’t expect to see her face, to read about her life like that. I...It stung a little."

Camille nodded slowly, her hand resting on his. "It’s okay to feel that way, you know. You love her. That doesn’t just disappear overnight."

Jameson took a good look at her, lifting his hand from the counter and reaching up to brush a few tendrils of hair from her face. "It stung but it didn't...it didn't hurt me like I thought it would. I want her to be happy. Even if that's not with me. And I want to be happy with you."

Camille was quiet for a moment before she tilted her head, leaning against his hand. "You don't have to say that. It took a lot for you to get here. You've made a lot of progress. Feeling things for her doesn't erase that progress."

He wished she was a little less understanding. He wanted her to yell at him for feeling something for anyone other than her. That felt normal. But her simple acceptance of everything he was made him want to be more for her. Nothing he said or did would be good enough because he knew...she would always deserve more. She was getting half of a man. Why couldn't he just give her everything?

"I'm okay." "You are?" "Mhm. If I'm not, I will be. I'm with you. I'm good."

He watched her melt and felt proud that at least he'd gotten that right for her. Camille leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "I'm here for you, okay? Whatever you need."

"I know." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm grateful."

As Camille returned to her food, Jameson’s gaze drifted to his phone on the counter. He turned it face down, trying to push Imani out of his mind once again. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. She was a part of him, no matter how much time passed or how far apart they were. And that realization was both comforting and excruciating.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

As Chef Keller said in the season finale- Just remember, right? It's all about nurturing.

[icharchivist]

Go off queen

It's your blog and you should be able to talk about whatever you want after all

aww thank you 🥺 i appreciate it <33

i do really not like spreading negativity esp when it's on a topic i have strong feelings about, and let's say the D.A fandom especially tends to be. extreme about the way it reacts to people disagreeing with them.

And look. I'm not immune to it because sometimes i get caught up by the genuinely rancid vibe in the fandom as well, and i think those games are designed for us to have strong feelings to start with.

but it also means i don't want to go too deep into controversial thoughts because i genuinely don't want to get to a point where i'll see someone screenshot my posts to dunk on it and say i'm the reason media literacy is dead and why the fandom is so toxic (citing things i've actually seen on said blog, for instance though not directed at me but at takes i've seen taken out of context. except i knew the context so knew this was a bad faith argument.).

Like can't even dislike shits in peace in here.

[geometricalien]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

awww thank you for including me. this has just been sitting in my box for the past couple of days but HERE I AM- in no particular order:

This doesn't really have a name... It's just called Merman AU

and it's not a 'fanfic' it's half a collection of headcannons for this AU and half snippets from this idea that I posted on tumblr at @haikyuu-aus-cuz-i-cant-write (oops look who has actually written now jfdksalf) basically this is a cross between the little mermaid and the monkey's paw. I really liked this but it was wayyy too big of an idea for me to write and you can see that I stopped after writing Suga's wish which is reallly funny considering this whole idea spawned from wanting a mermaid/human bokuaka AU and i was not near to getting to the meat of the story at all

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts

yes i just recently posted this, yes i've had this in my folders for like 3 years. this one... this was spawned from an old friend - who i don't speak with anymore - offhand comment that a fanart looked like akashi was an android. four hours after they said that i had half of this fic, and they said it was the best writing i ever shared with them. they encouraged me to expand it but i kept hitting a wall and then we had a falling out and through out the years ive been coming back to this trying to add and edit and i decided to reclaim it as my own and publish it. the idea is that it's an introduction to a lighthearted sitcom/romcom between decommissioned war android akashi and engineer who fixed him up furihata

Language Barriers

i cyclically get star trek brainrot and this time it had a dash of akafuri, i really like how i described things in this one since furihata doesn't think in words but emotions and images instead, idk it was a good writing exercise

Horror wip

ive been hemming and hawing at it for literal months now because i have one central driving image behind my eyelids that i want to get to. its just been... harder than usual to get to it. i've rewritten like 3 times trying to get it write. i've currently landed on 2nd person narration with some thrown in spices of 1st person to signify that we are in the being- akashi's- point of view haunting furihata (the you) and its giving me an opportunity to make the reader feel akashi's destroying love from the front seat. my other goal with this is to write some surrealistic imagery soooo yeP

I Will Follow You Down Through The Gates of Hell

i cant not include this. this damn fic/series/idea has been brewing in the back of my mind for so damn long if it was a human child it could hold a fucking conversation. the imagery. the themes. the depth of emotion- AND WE ARE BARELY GETTING INTO THE WAR!? ITS BEEN 50K+ WORDS AND ITS JUST GETTING STARTED (or ending, if you wanna look at it that way) idk its... its been so long since i wrote part 1 that that fic doesn't feel like "mine" anymore? idk but it always makes me smile seeing an email saying that someone else liked the fics too.

[raymend]

i hate fandom i hate shipping i hate everyoneeee Ahhhhh

[lanymme]

God I forgot how good Pokemon Sun and Moon were.

The like. background alolan sovereignty stuff and the frankly startlingly sensitive discussion of child abuse and the way they entertwine? Team Skull being kids failed by the system, and that social ill giving room for the Aether Foundation to sort of push its way in and establish a hold in Alola to "do good"? The fact that the stuff the Aether Foundation is doing is really good work from a certain perspective, but is also disruptive, controlling, and not in alignment with the Alolan way of doing things? Guzma being abused as a kid, and ending up pushed around and manipulated by Lusamine, an abuser herself, who knows how to push his buttons?

The whole subplot of looking for a champion, which probably would've been Kukui or Guzma if their own hero and rival story hadn't been shattered by the stuff that happened to them? Guy whose dad broke golf sticks over him develops a perfectionist obsessed with being strong enough that nobody can beat him again, and constantly proves to himself he's safe by throwing that strength around? The way their relationship starts to repair when those societal problems start to be addressed?

And then Gladion and Lillie. God. The way Gladion is the older child who figured out what was happening first and got out of there, went no contact, and had to do what he could to stay off the street. The way Lillie is just starting to figure out and unpack the things her mother taught her, and beginning to become braver and show more independence? How her fucking mother DRESSED HER UP AS THE NIHILEGO, and then her big moment is to put together her own trainer-like outfit, to start picking her own clothes?? The way Lusamine treats her pokemon with zero humanity but pretties up and preserves them horrifically for show, the way the Aether Foundation is engaging in torturous unethical experimentation, as metaphors for the way she abuses each of her children???

The ways in which Guzma, Gladion, and Lillie all bond with Pokemon that sort of symbolically resonate with the kinds of abuse they received and the way they learned to deal with it--Guzma picking bugs, traditionally the weakest type, and Wimpod who runs from everything--showing the kindness deep down in him, and the way he grew up to be strong. Gladion, whose pokemon was more overtly abused, and evolves through his care into Silvally who can take on any type the way Gladion is forced to learn how to adapt to being by himself, and then to being a member of the community? And Lillie with Nebby, who starts out weak and defenseless, helpless, imprisoned, and escapes despite that and gets by through relying on other people, until she learns to take care of herself--and her buddy evolves into the legendary that defends the Alola Region from alien threats like her mother????

fuck that game was good. it fit so well with the themes and aesthetics of pokemon. I really wish they'd make more like it.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

pt.4 SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

synopsis ⸺ In a Gotham steeped in darkness, Bruce Wayne confronts a past resonating with secrets. As he uncovers the identity of an enigmatic antiheroine, he will discover hidden truths that will stain his legacy. Blood, a symbol of betrayals, intertwines with his fate, revealing that darkness dwells within him as well.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, tw.noncon, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I took a long time because I went on vacation, I wasn’t inspired, I had a lot of things to catch up on, and blah blah blah. The good thing is that I brought part 4, and just so you know, there are about four or five more parts of the story, maybe more.

I'm dirty, infinitely dirty,

this is why I scream so much

about purity.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the memories and the silence that now inhabited that room. Every corner of that space reminded him of his daughter's presence, a presence that had been fragile and ephemeral, like smoke disappearing between fingers. He looked at the diplomas and trophies on the shelves, those small proofs of her effort and dedication. He caressed them with the same reverence he used when going through old photographs, searching for something, anything, that would tell him he had done enough, that he had been a good father.

But he only saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he had known since childhood. She resembled him more than he would have imagined. In her dull gaze, in her absent smile, he recognized the same pain that had accompanied him after his parents' death. He realized, almost bitterly, that this darkness was an inheritance, a shadow he had left in her without realizing it.

Bruce ran his fingers over an old photo from her first birthday after losing his mother. That day, Alfred had secretly taken her to Metropolis in a desperate attempt to give her some happiness. But even at the amusement park, where laughter and noise were contagious, her face remained a vacant mask. She wasn’t really smiling, as if something inside her knew she would never have the normalcy that other children enjoyed.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce rested his head on the pillow that had been hers, wanting to cling to the scent of his daughter. But there was no trace of her aroma left. Alfred, in an act of rigor that Bruce couldn’t understand, had eliminated any trace of her, perhaps trying to close a wound that Bruce was unwilling to let heal. He had reproached Alfred for hours and hours for erasing that last vestige of his daughter. But Alfred’s look, serious and filled with silence, told him what he already knew: maybe he didn’t deserve to keep those memories because he had failed to protect the person he loved most.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the pain of each thought that emerged from that dark room. Everything reminded him that, somehow, he was responsible for his daughter's disappearance, as if his own shadows had consumed her. In his mind, images of what he could have done differently began to surface, a parade of possibilities where he was a better father, more attentive and less blind to her suffering.

Suddenly, Titus and Alfred the Cat entered together through the door, coming in silently, as if they understood the weight of that moment. Titus approached Bruce, resting his massive head on his knee, while Alfred the Cat jumped onto Bruce's lap, purring softly. Bruce petted the dog and the cat, finding in them the only comfort that seemed left to him. His voice trembled when, in an almost delirious tone, he confessed to them:

"Maybe I’m the real killer here. What kind of father lets his daughter get lost in the dark? What kind of monster was I that I never saw her pain? If she’s dead… if my little girl has left this world… then I am the only one responsible."

He paused, breathing heavily, as the words he wanted to suppress escaped his lips in a bitter and disturbing whisper. "Sometimes I wish I had… had stopped her mother. If she hadn’t been… if I had raised her from the beginning… I could have saved her from so much pain."

The words, though spoken in a barely audible murmur, weighed heavily in the room. He caressed the pillow, almost pleading for the past to change, for every mistake to be undone. The cat purred softly, as if understanding the pain Bruce was trying to stifle deep in his chest. Titus looked at him with eyes full of loyalty, without judging him, but not offering the redemption he desperately sought.

"I would give anything for a second chance," he whispered, his voice broken. "I would give my life to undo every moment that made her drift away. I would give anything to see her smile again, even if it were just once… even if it were just to tell her how sorry I am."

The house was silent, and in that instant, Bruce understood that there were no words, no time, no strength that could change the past. He was trapped in an abyss of guilt, with only shadows and memories now haunting him, reflecting his own empty and broken face.

Finally, he could no longer contain himself. Feeling the emptiness in his chest, tears began to fall onto the pillow, soaking it with his pain, as if the weight of his own guilt slid out in every sob he tried to stifle. His face was buried in the memory of his daughter, lost in the pain that tormented him with an intensity he could no longer bear.

It was then that Damian entered, dressed as Robin, with his katana stained with a dark red liquid that could be nothing other than blood, with a sharp and direct arrogance, breaking the silent mourning of Bruce. Coldly, he looked at his father and pronounced, almost with disdain, "No matter how much you cry like a whore, Y/N won’t come back."

Bruce looked up, surprised and hurt, but before he could respond, Damian continued with the same hardness. "While everyone was out in a gang like a bunch of lowlifes and came back empty-handed, I found something you didn’t even bother to look for while lying here like a cheap whore." Damian looked at him with a mix of disappointment and reproach, as if he couldn’t understand how his father had let so many signs slip by.

"Did you know? I had a relationship with Ivy, that old woman who had the indecency to date my little sister while being an old hag. Plus, she worked as a waitress in some bar wearing little clothes to survive. Like some common bitch. And the last time, she was seen in the subway, with a strange man with psychiatric crazy vibes... surely another one that slipped away while you were lying here." Damian’s words were blows to Bruce, each revelation a testament to how much he had let slip away.

Damian continued, each phrase laden with resentment and questions. "Why did she have to work? Why did she, the daughter of the renowned multimillionaire Bruce Wayne, the masked hero of Gotham, have to depend on a miserable paycheck that didn’t even cover the end of the month? And the subway, father, did she really have to take the subway like any unknown person in this city?"

Bruce looked down, unable to respond. Each of those questions was a dagger reminding him how far he had been from understanding his own daughter. He had ignored, or perhaps never wanted to see, the sacrifices she made to survive, the paths she took in search of something he had never given her. Now, with Damian's words filling the silence, Bruce realized he had condemned his daughter to the same fate he was trying to combat on the streets.

Damian watched him, his gaze cold and critical, as the room filled with a tense silence. For the first time, Bruce understood that perhaps he was never the hero he thought he was, and that in his attempt to protect everyone, he had failed to protect the one who needed him the most.

Bruce felt anger bubbling inside him, intensifying with each word that left Damian's lips. "How dare you come in here and say that? You weren’t a brother to her, you weren’t there when she needed you the most," he shot back, his voice echoing in the room like dark thunder. The image of his daughter intertwined with his rage, each contained tear now fueling his fury.

Damian frowned, unrestrained. "That's how I show my affection; you should be used to it," he retorted disdainfully, recalling that moment when he arrived at the mansion, he had stabbed Y/N with his katana. "I did what I had to do, and I don’t have to accept your reproaches. Everyone failed Y/N, even you."

"Don’t try to blame others for your own failures!" Bruce shouted, frustration filling every corner of his being. "You weren’t there, Damian. You can’t always hide behind your arrogance."

Damian crossed his arms, his defiant attitude unbreakable. "And what if I wasn't? At least I didn’t hide behind a mask of sadness. Better stop reproaching me and listen to what I have for you." He stepped closer, pulling out a half-open old cardboard box. "I brought you a gift."

Bruce looked at him suspiciously. "What is it now?"

"I went looking for Selina, but she slipped away like a scared kitten," Damian said, mocking the situation. "A waste of time, but I found Ivy in Arkham. She said little about Y/N, which annoyed me, so… well, here you go." He opened the box slowly, revealing Poison Ivy's head, the fresh blood still dripping from the edges.

Her face, once beautiful, was now serene, with pale skin and a touch of green that evoked her connection to nature. Her normally vibrant red hair now fell messily around her face, while her eyes, closed forever, seemed almost at peace, as if she had found a breath in the chaos she once inhabited.

Bruce felt as if the world had stopped. There was no horror in his gaze, only an emptiness where anger and sadness collided. "What have you done?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but resignation permeated every word. The life of his daughter, the decisions he had made and what that meant now overwhelmed him.

Damian shrugged. "She was a monster, just like all of us. What matters is that now you have something tangible, something you can show."

"What kind of family are we?" Bruce let slip, feeling defeated. "This family is a failure."

"Oh, so it turns out we’ve been a family all this time?" Damian replied, scornful, but his tone was less certain.

Bruce closed his eyes, feeling the discomfort of the situation. "Take me to the apartment where she lived," he said, his voice enigmatic and cold. It was a request that resonated with the gravity of what he had lost, an echo of what he had failed to protect. As Damian looked at him with surprise and a hint of concern, Bruce knew that the truth he would face in that place was beyond any form of redemption. The darkness that had invaded his life was about to be confronted, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what he would find.

As Bruce and Damian prepared to leave, Titus and Alfred the Cat watched them from a distance. The dog remained alert, his ears perked, as if he could sense the tension looming in the air. His instinct told him that something grave was about to happen. Alfred, with his wise and sharp gaze, seemed to share the same unease, his eyes fixed on the men who were heading toward the dark fate they had chosen.

As Bruce and Damian headed for the door, Titus stepped forward, his expression a mix of concern and determination. It was as if he were trying to convey a silent message, a call to reason that his owners could not hear amid their emotional turmoil. Alfred the Cat, with his elegant stride, approached Bruce and rubbed his head against his leg, seeking comfort for the hero who seemed on the brink of losing himself even further in the darkness.

Turning around, Bruce felt a pang in his heart. He looked at his animals, those innocent beings who had always been there to offer him companionship, and realized that they were aware of what was about to come. In a world where violence and betrayal lurked around every corner, their departure was the beginning of something much darker.

With one last look, Bruce found himself in Titus's eyes, reflecting a mix of loyalty and worry. It was as if the dog knew that the decision they were making would not only affect them but would also drag others into a chaos from which they could not escape.

Damian, impatient, had already crossed the threshold, but Bruce paused for one more moment. "I’m sorry," he murmured, although he was not sure to whom he was really addressing: whether to the animals who looked at him with eyes full of wisdom or to himself for the path he had chosen.

However, it was already too late to turn back. With one last glance at the room where it all began, and at the animals who looked at him with concern, Bruce stepped into the dark world that awaited them, unaware that soon, everything would get worse. The air was charged with ominous anticipation, and the feeling that tragedy loomed over them like a shadow, deep and inevitable.

You lay on the bed, your body still heavy from the forced encounter, thoughts fluttering in your mind like butterflies trapped in a net. The room was enveloped in an unsettling gloom, the air thick with a tension that could not be ignored. Beside you, he breathed with a calm that contrasted with the whirlwind inside you. There was no name, no face to remember; it was just him, the one who had kidnapped you and made you his own, a figure who had taken your life and distorted it at will.

As you stared at the ceiling, the silence became a mirror of your thoughts. Rage and hatred toward your family surged within you, feelings that had once seemed so distant. They didn’t understand you, they hadn’t been there to protect you, and now, in this strange intimacy, you found yourself wishing to be with him more than with them. Confusion engulfed you; on one hand, there was a part of you longing for affection and acceptance, while on the other, there was a strange pleasure in the situation, a desire to escape the life that had caused you so much suffering.

Despite everything, you missed your mother. Her laughter, her hugs, the way she always knew how to calm your fears. But that maternal figure was slowly fading from your memory, drowned by the anguish of betrayal and loneliness. You found yourself trapped between the desire to remember the good and the hatred toward the past that had brought you here.

As the room remained silent, a dark and almost self-destructive impulse took hold of you. With trembling movements, you picked up a sharp object and pressed it against your skin, feeling a sting that was both physical and emotional. In that moment, you thought about the irony of your situation: you had lost control of your life, and in seeking an escape, you chose to hurt yourself.

The duality of your feelings was heartbreaking. On one hand, you yearned for freedom, to reclaim your identity and the love that had been taken from you. On the other, there was a part of you that felt alive in this new relationship, a twisted connection that kept you captive. The internal struggle manifested in every thought and every action, revealing the complexity of your situation.

You remembered moments from his life, the wounds he carried, and the pain he had faced. Had Bruce ever been so lost, so filled with sadness that he had to do the unthinkable to feel something? The idea that the man you admired could also have been vulnerable struck you like a revelation. You wondered if he had ever cried in solitude, questioning his place in the world, if he had ever felt so trapped in his own life.

As you touched your stomach, an old pain resurfaced. There, beneath the skin, was a scar, a reminder of the time Damian had hurt you with his katana, an act that had been both an attack and a cry of desperation. The brush of your fingers over the wound, although healed, still brought memories of suffering and betrayal, a deep connection intertwined with the pain you felt now. The scar was a metaphor for your life: a wound that would never fully heal, a reminder that pain is part of your existence.

Tears fell more forcefully as you thought about how your family’s decisions, rivalries, and chaos had influenced your life. Bruce, with his constant struggle against the shadows of his past, was a reflection of what you could have been: strong, determined, but also broken and lost. In that moment, you felt just like him, entangled in a cycle of suffering and confusion.

You allowed yourself to cry, feeling that perhaps in that vulnerability there was some freedom. It was a relief, an act of resistance in the midst of the oppression that surrounded you. As the outside world faded away, the pain of the scar became a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a part of you yearning to break free, wanting to escape this darkness. And amid that sadness, one thought grew stronger: perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to find your path again.

The man let go of your cheek and, with a casual gesture, lit a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the air like shadows in the dim light of the room. His eyes, fixed on you, had a dangerous intensity. "Do you see this?" he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. "Now you are stained, like Gotham. You’ve been in the mud, and it’s your duty to clean yourself up. This is just the beginning."

He looked at you with a twisted smile, an expression that mixed amusement and dominance. "You have to understand that you can’t escape from what you are. The city is a reflection of yourself. And like Gotham, you too need to be purified." With a sudden movement, he offered you the cigarette. "Smoke. It will help you forget the tears."

You hesitated, but his eyes challenged you, a clear message that there was no room for denial. With a mix of fear and despair, you brought the cigarette to your lips, feeling its bitterness touch your tongue. "Don’t make me repeat myself," he said, his voice a cold whisper. "I want you to feel the poison, just like the city does. You are part of it now, and you must accept your role."

The pressure of his words overwhelmed you, each syllable a reminder of your distorted reality. "But why me?" you stammered, feeling desperation twisting inside you. "Why do I have to be part of this?"

"Because there is no choice," he replied with disdain. "There never was. Every day, every decision you made has led you here. Weakness is not an option. Look around you; Gotham has no place for the weak. If you want to survive, you need to get your hands dirty. And believe me, there is a lot of blood to clean up."

Your heart raced as you inhaled the smoke, the burning filling your lungs and leaving a feeling of emptiness. "What do you want from me?" you asked, feeling the power he had over you strangling you.

"I just want you to accept your new place. I want you to understand that in this world, death and destruction are inevitable. There is no redemption for the stained, but you can try to fix it… in your own way."

He trapped you in a dark cycle of thoughts, where each of his words echoed in your mind like a terrifying echo. You knew he was playing with you, manipulating your emotions. "If you don’t clean yourself, you will suffer the consequences. And if you cry for her again, I promise you will pay for it," he said, tightening his grip on your arm.

As the smoke dissipated into the air, the feeling of being trapped became more palpable. You found yourself between acceptance and internal struggle, but deep down, you knew you had to find a way out. However, the darkness around you grew more intense, and each of his words was another chain binding you to this fate you had not chosen.

The air thickened as he exhaled smoke, the room filling with a gray fog that seemed to reflect the chaos in your mind. He looked at you with an intensity that overflowed with obsession, a strange mix of affection and dominance that enveloped you. Despite the tears running down your face, you felt no sadness or fear. You had passed the stage of terror; now you felt strangely alive, almost liberated in your pain.

"My dear," he said in a soft yet authoritative voice, "you must not see this as a punishment. It is a purification. Gotham needs someone who understands its pain, and you are the chosen one." He leaned closer to you, his hot breath on your skin. "You are like a spark in this darkness, and together we can illuminate it. You just have to let the poison flow through you. With each tear, you are cleansing the city."

As he held you, the contact between the two of you was electric, and a part of you began to understand his madness, the way he had woven his dreams of greatness and purification through your own desires for belonging. "Did you know my mother was in Arkham?" he continued, as if sharing a special secret. "She was stained too. In her mind, she fought demons that no one else could see, just like you now. And look where she ended up: trapped in her own memories, in her own shadows."

The revelation hit you. A fragment of pain resurfaced, intertwining with the new knowledge. "What… what happened to her?" you asked, your voice trembling. It wasn’t sadness you felt; it was curiosity to know that story that had remained hidden.

"She got lost in the darkness of Gotham, just like everyone else," he said with contempt. "But that doesn’t have to be your destiny. You are stronger. My mother let herself be consumed by her madness, but you… you can take control. Let me guide you."

You fell silent, contemplating his words. The tears continued to fall, but now they were just a part of you, a manifestation of the internal struggle. You knew you were trapped in a dangerous game, but there was something in his promise of power and control that began to seduce you.

"So cry if you need to," he said, caressing your cheek with a touch that was both gentle and threatening. "But don’t let those tears weaken you. Every time you feel the urge to cry for her, remember what you are. Remember that the city needs someone like you to cleanse it of the filth."

"How can I do that?" you asked, feeling the echo of his words resonate in your mind. "How can I clean something so deeply rooted in darkness?"

"With determination," he answered firmly, his eyes shining with a mix of fervor and madness. "You must learn to see the beauty in chaos. There is power in pain. With every action you take, with every decision you make, you will be purifying Gotham of its own decay. And I will be by your side, guiding you. Together, we will be unstoppable."

As you absorbed his words, a strange sense of purpose began to take shape within you. Although his love was perverse, there was something in his vision that resonated with you, as if you were destined to fulfill that role. As the smoke from the cigarette faded into the air, so too did your fears, leaving only a cold and clear determination: you were going to take control of your destiny, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

"No! I don’t want you to go!" shouted little Y/n, clinging to her mother's handbag with the desperation of someone who knows something important is about to slip away.

Her mother, a blonde woman with a tired gaze, let out a sigh of impatience. Y/n couldn't quite remember her face, but she knew it hardened at the tug on her bag, and without thinking, she pushed the girl, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud. Y/n looked up from below, her big eyes reflecting a mix of fear and pain.

"Stop being silly, Y/n," her mother murmured, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. She leaned down, trying to smile, but the coldness in her eyes betrayed her. "You know I have to do this... for both of us. Everything I do is for you, even if you don’t understand it now."

The girl nodded slowly, but inside, she felt the truth—that repeated phrase was just a curtain. She knew there was something broken in her mother, something she was too young to fully comprehend but sensed in every harsh gesture, in every bitter word that hung in the air. Something that made her feel alone, even when they were together.

Her mother straightened up, adjusting the bag as if it weighed tons. She raised a hand in a mechanical farewell, and without another word, she left through the door without looking back.

Days passed in a haze of silence and dry tears. Y/n had no idea how much time had passed since her mother left, leaving the echo of her footsteps as the only reminder of her presence. Hugging herself, she spent the nights waiting for some familiar sound that never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she realized her surroundings had completely changed. She was no longer at home; she was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar room, with gray walls and flickering lights dimly overhead. In the distance, she could hear whispering voices.

"How is it possible that someone left such a small child alone?" It was the firm, serious voice of a man. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she distinguished a police badge on the man's uniform. It read Commissioner Gordon.

Next to him, a red-haired woman spoke in a low voice. "Dad, you can't be sure. Maybe it was just a lie. You know how her mother was: a history of psychiatric hospitals and drugs at home. How do we know she didn't make up the story about Wayne?"

"Barbara, we have evidence that doesn't lie," Gordon replied coldly, his tone tinged with disdain. "We know the paternity test is real."

The girl felt the world sway around her. She listened to every word and felt each comment like a dagger sinking deeper into her chest. Those adults, figures of authority and trust, spoke of her mother as if she were little more than a mistake, something despicable that had left scars on her life. Sitting there, hidden behind a wall and hugging her knees, tears returned to her eyes, a mix of sadness and a terrifying understanding of what it meant to be alone in the world.

"Do you really think someone like that should have had a child in her care?" Barbara said from her wheelchair, her tone full of contempt. "She was probably just looking for easy money, manipulating everyone she could."

Commissioner Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "Barbara, that's not fair! Even if she didn’t lead the best life, she was still a citizen like anyone else, and she had the right to rebuild her life. No one is perfect."

From her corner, Y/n tried to cover her ears, but Barbara's words were impossible to ignore.

"I can't believe it, Dad. How could anyone in their right mind have left a child in the hands of that woman?" Barbara said with a cold, almost poisoned voice. "Someone who clearly had drug addiction problems and who was in and out of psychiatric hospitals. I bet she didn’t even know who the real father was."

Each word made Y/n's chest tighten even more. Her mind screamed silently: Stop! Please stop saying that about her! Her small hands trembled as she remembered the moments she had spent with her mother. Her mother, who although had those dark days and her brusque manner, had fed her, tucked her in, and cared for her as best as she could. Despite her mistakes, she had been her mother, and that was all Y/n could understand.

But Barbara’s words kept filling the room, like a storm of resentment. "I don't know how Bruce can even be involved in something like this. That woman was a burden to everyone. I can't imagine anyone worse as a mother."

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it out. It's not true. She’s not bad. She took care of me. We didn’t have much, but she always tried to be there for me. But no matter how hard her thoughts tried to silence the pain, Barbara's words left deep scars, increasingly difficult to heal.

As Y/n remained there, her tears already dry, her thoughts twisted in her mind like threatening shadows. She heard the echoes of Barbara's cruel words and Gordon's, and a silent resentment grew in her chest, almost like a slow poison. She tried to remember the good moments with her mother, but the dark thoughts seemed to drown them out. She was good, she was good... No, you can't say that about her... But those same thoughts tangled with hate and confusion, and the pain grew stronger.

Suddenly, everything turned white. The walls, the voices, the cold metal chair beneath her legs... everything disappeared into a blinding void that enveloped every corner of her mind. And then, there was only her, standing in that white abyss, with a strange weight on her shoulders and in her hands.

She looked down and saw a white armor, shining as if made of shards of moon and shadow. It covered her body completely, with firm, polished plates that fit like a second skin, protecting every part of her. The gauntlets were solid, with sharp and detailed edges, and in her hands, she wielded two katanas whose blades reflected that void like deadly mirrors.

The design of the armor was imposing and terrifying. The helmet resembled a bat, with long pointed ears extending upward, and a dark V-shaped visor that barely revealed her eyes. The lines that ran across her chest and arms formed the silhouette of folded wings, as if that bat awaited to unfold at any moment. The chest was engraved with fine black details, resembling veins radiating dark power. In the center, a small emblem in the shape of a black teardrop contrasted with the radiant white of the armor, like a mark of pain and sacrifice.

In the dim light of the void where she stood, Y/n felt the weight of the katanas in her hands as if they were extensions of her own being. In that moment, the white armor fit her like a comforting embrace, a reminder of the power she now possessed. She looked at herself in a non-existent reflection, feeling that every part of her being was ready to act, to reclaim what she had lost.

With a tremor of emotion and a palpable obsession, she held them to her chest, hugging them tightly. Words flowed from her lips, laden with a burning, almost manic desire: "Soon you will be mine... I will go home. I will be my little girl again."

The echo of her voice resonated in the white void, vibrating with the intensity of her longing. In her mind, an image formed of a home, a place where shadows no longer lurked and where her mother, though imperfect, would be able to embrace her once more. The idea of being together again, of transforming her pain into power, filled her with a fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of tears and a crazed smile. "Nothing will stop me. I promise." The choked laughter turned into a murmur of echoes, resonating in the abyss like a sinister promise, as the world around her began to fade again, leaving her alone with her obsession and her new identity.

In the silence, whispers began to rise, soft at first, but increasingly insistent. One word repeated, muted yet burning, like a spark in the shadows.

K

e

r

o

s

e

n

e

The word reverberated in the void, growing more intense, like a kind of dark mantra. And when Y/n could barely bear the weight of those voices, one final phrase emerged, chilling and final:

"Death is the ultimate prize."

You walked through the halls of the old apartment block, your white armor shining in the dim light, like a bat defying the embrace of the night. The echoes of your heels resonated, a dark song reverberating in the solitude of the worn walls.

Your figure, sculpted in gleaming metal, was a silhouette of elegance and mystery, as you hummed a forgotten melody, slipping between the shadows like a whisper of the forbidden. Each step was a heartbeat in the silence, a chilling reminder that there is still life in abandonment.

The portraits on the walls watched you, empty eyes that seemed to come alive, as you moved with the grace of a specter, a macabre dance of light and shadow at dusk.

The doors, worn and creaking, whispered secrets of past stories, and you, guardian of those forgotten tales, advanced fearlessly, seeking what was left behind.

You were an enigma, a reflection of the lost, a shadow walking, dressed in white, in a world clinging to its demons, where the past and present intertwine in a lethal embrace, and the night waits, eager for your return.

You paused before the door of one of the apartments, its frayed wood opening like an abyss, a dark invitation that defied logic. The silence became thick, almost palpable, and the echo of your humming faded, leaving a void that swallowed the darkness.

The threshold awaited you, a portal to the unknown, and a cold breeze, laden with whispers, caressed your skin like a lost lover. Inside, the shadows seemed to come alive, a palace of echoes and laments, where time had woven a web.

Your heart raced, a mix of adrenaline and challenge, as you gently pushed the door. It creaked in protest, like an old ghost, and when it opened, revealed an abandoned world, furniture covered in dust, with withered memories.

The remnants of a past life crowded every corner, and a scent of decay floated in the air, but something more, a glimpse of presence, urged you to enter, to explore the hidden. You peered in, and the dimness embraced you, as if the apartment claimed you as its own.

Each step on the creaky floor was an act of daring, and the walls seemed to murmur forgotten secrets, stories of betrayed loves and lost souls. In the center of the room, a dark, diffuse, and shadowy figure formed among the shadows, like an echo of your own existence, a reflection of what could have been.

You stood still, breath held in the abyss of the moment, the half-open door, a threshold to your destiny, and the silence, now laden with promises, stripped you of fears, leaving only the certainty that in that space, you faced the echoes of your own darkness.

As you advanced, your eyes fixed on a dusty, worn wooden box resting on the small dining table. Something about it drew you in, as if it held a dark secret. You approached and, with trembling hands, opened it. Inside, horror was revealed: the head of Poison Ivy, the green hair still vibrant, a gaze frozen in time. You didn’t cry, but a slight tremor coursed through your body, a mixture of surprise and disdain for the brutality that had taken place in that space.

"Normally you enter through the window," you murmur to the air, with an ironic smile on your lips, as if addressing a presence you hoped would appear.

And then, as if the night itself had responded to your call, Batman emerged from the shadows, his dark figure silhouetted against the dim light coming through the window. The air became tense in an instant.

"Who are you?" he asked, his grave voice resonating with a mix of distrust and anger. "What are you doing in the apartment of Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

You laughed, a laugh that echoed in the empty room, filled with irony and knowledge.

"His daughter?" you mocked, your eyes shining with a mix of challenge and amusement. "So Y/n is your daughter. Isn’t it curious how things intertwine in this city?"

The silence grew heavy, and you felt his gaze intensify, evaluating every word you had spoken. He knew you had crossed a line, but the revelation had ignited a spark of playfulness in you.

"How do you know who I am?" The question slipped from his lips, but there was no fear, just an unsettling curiosity.

"Gotham has its secrets, Bruce. And I, like you, am part of this darkness. The identity of a hero or heroine is just a game of shadows, and in this game, you and I know how to move between the lines."

You stood firm, the tension between you palpable, as the echo of laughter still resonated in the air. Batman's figure, always imposing and enigmatic, seemed to waver at the revelation that in this dark labyrinth, he was not the only player.

The tension intensified, and Batman took a step forward, approaching you with an intense gaze.

"How do you know about my daughter?" he inquired, his voice brusque, each word laden with frustration. You remained firm, crossing your arms, letting the silence settle between you.

"Oh, Gotham speaks, even in whispers. The city has a way of revealing what heroes prefer to hide," you replied disdainfully. "Your life, your secrets, are more exposed than you think." He frowned, anger crackling in his eyes.

"What do you know about Y/N?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if waiting for you to throw down a challenge.

"I know you didn't want her. That you left her in the shadows while you dedicated yourself to your personal crusade," you replied, irony dancing in your tone. "That girl grew up without a father, and you, the great hero of Gotham, preferred to be a myth."

Rage etched itself on his face, but there was something more, a hidden pain surfacing behind the armor of his anger.

"It's not that simple, and you have no idea what I've done for her," he retorted, his voice tense, each word like a blow.

"Really?" you asked, flashing a mocking smile. "What have you done? Cut off her partner's head, the only person I love, just to extract invalid information? What a great father."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, as the air vibrated with unspoken emotions.

"You are not one to judge me," he declared, his voice tense. "You know nothing of what I've sacrificed."

"Maybe not, but I know enough about the void you've left," you replied, undeterred. "And I know Ivy was there for her. You, the hero, vanished while others took on the role of father."

The anger shone in his eyes, but there was also a spark of recognition. He observed you, assessing the courage that led you to challenge him.

"And who are you to come and point fingers? A lost anti-heroine in her own struggle?" he shot back, his voice laden with contempt.

"I am what Gotham needs," you replied, confident. "A reminder that even heroes like you can fail."

The discussion turned into a power struggle, both of you clinging to your truths, while Poison Ivy's head remained a sinister reminder of the choices you both had made.

Suddenly, Batman's fury exploded like lightning in the darkness. Without warning, he seized you by the neck, lifting you with surprising strength. The air became scarce, and the pressure on your throat made you feel vulnerable, although the mockery never left your expression.

"Where is Y/N?" he demanded, his voice charged with rage and desperation. The shadows moved around him, intensifying his figure, which seemed more monster than hero at that moment.

Despite the iron grip, you kept your gaze fixed on him, challenging him, feeling the adrenaline pulse through your veins.

"Are you that worried about her whereabouts?" you replied, a mocking smile barely hiding your disdain. "Maybe she's hanging from a hook in a slaughterhouse, who knows? That would be an ironic twist for a girl who grew up in the shadow of a hero, don’t you think?"

His eyes narrowed, anger and helplessness battling within him. You leaned in closer, feeling the pressure on your neck, but that only fueled your defiance.

"Don't laugh about this!" he roared, tightening his grip slightly. The fury in his voice was palpable, but something deeper kept him on edge.

"Me? Laughing? You, the great Batman, scared for your daughter's life?" you shot back, never breaking eye contact.

The tension was becoming unbearable, but there was something fascinating about the game you were playing. He was caught between rage and fear, and you, in your shadowy game, fed off his anguish.

"Do you know something? You're losing yourself in your own legend," you continued, while he held you in the air. "I'm sure you once dreamed that she would have died in that alley with her mother."

In that instant, something in his expression changed. The anger slowly faded, giving way to a deep concern, though he still held you firmly.

"I warn you," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "If you lie to me, I won't show mercy."

You laughed again, though the risk was imminent, as your heart raced.

"And what will you do?" you challenged, your voice trembling but resolute. "Threaten me with your dark past? I'm here because I know the truth, and I do not fear your shadows."

Bruce's patience evaporated like smoke in the heavy air of that apartment. With a sudden movement, he hurled you towards the table, the impact resonating with a crash that reverberated through the walls. Your katanas slipped to the floor, leaving you defenseless. The furniture creaked under your weight, but adrenaline kept you alert, your instincts sharp.

You quickly rose, shaking your head to clear the confusion, while the anger on his face transformed into determination.

"I don't have time for your games, Kerosene," he shouted, stepping forward, ready to fight. "If you know Y/N, tell me!"

You steadied yourself, smiling defiantly as you positioned yourself, preparing for combat.

"Do you really think you'll throw away the only one who can help you?" you replied, feeling the pulse of challenge coursing through your veins. "I'm offering you a chance to know the truth, and you choose to fight. Very typical of you."

With a swift movement, he lunged at you, throwing a direct punch. You dodged, making an agile turn, but the atmosphere became a whirlwind of force and speed.

You charged at him, hitting him in the side, feeling how his tense muscles responded to your attack. It was not just a physical fight; it was a clash of wills, an explosion of repressed emotions.

"You’re an idiot if you think you can scare me!" you yelled at him while he tried to immobilize you. You twisted and managed to sidestep him, landing a blow to his jaw that made him stagger.

Bruce quickly regained his footing, his eyes blazing with fury. He advanced again, his movements precise and calculated, while you played with speed and agility.

"Stop!" he roared, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"And I just want you to stop living in your hero fantasy," you replied, with a defiant laugh as you dodged another attack. "The truth hurts you, Bruce, and you prefer the fight over facing it."

The exchange of blows continued, the sound of fists colliding and the creaking of breaking furniture filling the air. The room became a battlefield, with the table as the central stage of your struggle.

Bruce, with a mix of skill and strength, cornered you against the wall, but instead of giving up, you seized the closeness. With an agile movement, you pushed him back, making him lose his balance.

"Are you going to keep this up? Destroying what’s left of this city?" you said, breathing heavily but not yielding. "Or are you going to listen to what’s really at stake?"

His eyes were now inches from yours, the fury and frustration of his search fueling the spark of the battle. Both of you were willing to fight, but deep down, you knew there was something deeper at play than just physical strength.

The battle continued, becoming increasingly intense and violent, like a whirlwind of unleashed fury. You launched at him, landing a blow that hit his chest, but Bruce responded with a punch that made you stagger; the force behind his blow was terrifying. The rage emanating from him was palpable, and with each attack, both of you took the struggle to a new level.

The apartment walls vibrated with the thud of bodies colliding and furniture being dragged. The sound of shattering glass echoed in the air as you crashed into a table, breaking it into pieces.

You got back up, a piece of wood in hand, and threw it at him. Bruce dodged it, but the fragment smashed against a lamp, exploding into a million shards. The light flickered before going out, plunging the place into an unsettling darkness.

Both of you moved like shadows through the chaos, and sweat and blood began to mix, the air filled with a metallic smell that only intensified the battle. Bruce landed a punch on your jaw, and you tasted blood in your mouth. You didn’t stop; with a cry of defiance, you responded with a series of rapid blows, each one stronger than the last.

You darted to his side, using your agility to hit him in the ribs. The impact made him stagger, but before you could capitalize on the opportunity, Bruce spun around and kneed you in the abdomen. The air escaped your lungs, and the sharp pain made you fall to your knees. However, you didn’t give up.

With renewed determination, you got up and threw a direct punch to his face, hearing the crack of his skin upon impact. Blood spurted from his lip, and the fact that you had hurt him only fueled his fury. With superhuman strength, he pushed you back, slamming you against a shelf, which gave way and collapsed on you. Books and personal items scattered across the floor, covering the place in even greater chaos.

But there was no time to stop. You rose amongst the debris, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. With a leap, you charged at him again, landing a blow that left a mark on his face. Rage and pain intertwined in the air, and both of you were on the brink of madness.

The room had turned into a battlefield, with blood staining the floor and walls. The apartment’s decor, once a refuge, lay in tatters, as if Gotham itself had decided to yield to the brutality of your confrontation.

Bruce, with his determined gaze locked on you, lunged at you again. Both of you were exhausted, but the fight was a necessity, an uncontrollable impulse that kept you standing. His fists and your movements were a wild dance, and amidst the chaos, both of you knew that the outcome of this battle would not only define the present but also seal your fate.

You charged at him, landing a direct blow to his stomach, and when he bent forward, you took the chance to hit him in the face once more. Blood spilled from his nose, but he countered with a knee strike, and the impact resonated in your bones.

The fight continued with increasing ferocity, the room transforming into a wreckage. Every blow exchanged resonated like thunder, but it was the moment when Bruce landed a punch to your side that made you fall to your knees again, gasping for air. The pain was intense, but there was no time to lament; rage and frustration drove him to push onward.

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce lunged at you, and with a rough movement, he lifted you off the ground, holding you by the neck and raising you into the air. You struggled, feeling the pressure increase, the air escaping your lungs. The room blurred around you as you began to lose control.

"Tell me where Y/N is!" he shouted, his voice echoing in your mind like a refrain of desperation and fury.

You were on the brink of passing out, your eyes clouding, but amidst the confusion, you managed to maintain lucidity, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Bruce's hands were like a yoke around your throat, and the feeling of suffocation intensified with every passing second.

The pressure was unbearable, and you fought to free your neck, to breathe, but it felt like trying to break chains of steel. Your hands struck his arm, but he wouldn’t relent, becoming more focused, more desperate.

Finally, with a titanic effort, you managed to reach your helmet, and in a twist, you pushed him back, but the pressure of his grip was too much. It was then that, in a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, the helmet slipped off your head, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

The light of the apartment filtered back into your vision, and it was at that moment that Bruce, seeing your face, stopped dead in his tracks, the expression of his fury transforming into horror.

The face before him was not just an adversary; it was a reflection of his own daughter. The reality crashed against him like lightning.

"...Y/N?"

A/N ──── I WANT TO EMPHASIZE THAT YES, WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THE DOCTOR AND Y/N IS REAL. And yes, it's necessary; you'll understand why by the end. Furthermore, Ivy's death has always been planned. In the next chapter, a female character will appear who, I warn you, will be a victim of the Waynes, and the scene will be a bit graphic and very grotesque.

I want to add that this chapter is very, very, veeeery weak because I’m very tired, not very inspired, and dealing with other things. I’ll try to do better for the next one and bring you a chapter of better quality.

And a warning for those on the taglist: if you’re already on it, please don’t ask me again and again to add your name because I end up getting confused and repeating names.

Also, there are some that I can’t add for reasons I don’t understand.

If you requested to be on the taglist before and you're not, please ask me here or send me a message; I don’t bite.

Feel free to ask me anything if you’d like.

Take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

@redkarmakai @the-rouge-robin @twismare @wizzerreblogs @beeboopneep @mistfire1999 @delfinadolphin @expctron

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing 's work and @klemen-tine 's work, be sure to check them out!

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (1); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, potential smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 6.6k+

Chapter Warnings: nothing major for now, lmk if i should add anything.

A/N: okay so after much thought, I decided to write this fic because Crazy Rich Asians is, without a doubt, my ultimate comfort movie. I literally rewatch it every chance I get because there's just something about the vibes, the story, and the characters that I can never move on from. That’s exactly why I wanted to create my own little version of it, with Jungkook as the main character. let me know your thoughts and tell me if this is worth continuing. also should i make a taglist for this?

part 1

Jungkook sits in the dimly lit corner of the restaurant, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his water glass. The soft hum of classical music mingles with the low chatter of the people around, but none of it distracts him from the bubbling anticipation inside as he waits for you.

It’s been four months since the two of you had officially started dating, and though you guys had been cautious about defining what you meant to each other, these past months have solidified everything for him. You aren’t just someone he likes... you’re someone who makes his world brighter in ways he never thought possible.

New York has been his home for years now, but it didn’t always feel that way. When he abruptly moved here with his mom during high school, he reluctantly traded the familiar streets of Busan and the ocean breeze he grew up with for the city that never sleeps.

The move was sudden, jarring even, but over time, he adjusted. The city shaped him, sharpening his edges and teaching him resilience. Now, he’s built a life here, chasing his passion for storytelling as a photographer and documentary filmmaker, capturing untold stories that deserve to be heard.

Life was peaceful... steady, even. And then you walked in and turned everything upside down, in a good way.

He met you almost a year ago, purely by chance. He was documenting behind-the-scenes moments at a charity gala, a commission he almost didn’t take, when you appeared, orchestrating the chaos of models, designs, and flashing cameras like the professional powerhouse you are.

You were magnetic, the kind of person who commanded attention without even trying. Jungkook watched from behind his lens, capturing candid moments until one of your colleagues introduced him to you.

“Ah, so you’re the genius behind the lens.” you teased, offering a hand. “I’m Y/N, the one responsible for the clothes you’re immortalizing.”

Your confidence threw him off guard, but what stayed with him was your laugh... so soft and so genuine, the kind that lingers in his mind long after the event ends.

What followed after was a series of serendipitous run-ins—an art exhibit here, a mutual friend’s dinner there. Each meeting peeled back another layer of who you are, until he realized he was utterly captivated.

Now, as he waits for you to arrive tonight, Jungkook can’t help but think of how far the two of you have come. A lot can change in a year, he thinks. His lips tug into a small smile at the thought of your teasing voice, your quick wit, the way you light up every room you enter. You’ve become the best part of his life, and for the first time in years, he feels genuinely happy.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and there you are. You wear a soft pink dress that hugs your form perfectly, your hair framing your face in a way that makes his heart skip. When your eyes meet his, you smile instantly, and Jungkook feels his pulse quicken.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say as you reach the table, placing your bag on the chair as you watch him pull out the chair for you. “I got caught up at work.” you say, taking a seat.

“No need to apologize.” he says warmly, going back to his side of the table. “You’re here now and you look... incredible.”

You roll your eyes playfully, though your cheeks betray you with a faint flush. “Says the guy who looks like he just walked out of a GQ spread.” you giggle.

“Only because I knew I’d be sitting across from you.” he shoots back with a grin. You laugh, shaking your head as you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “Flirt.”

The conversation flows as effortlessly as always, a mix of updates about your respective work lives and lighthearted banter. You tell him about the chaos of coordinating last-minute changes for an upcoming fashion week, while he shares stories from his recent project, a documentary highlighting immigrant artists in the city.

But midway through dinner, he notices a shift in your demeanor. Your laughter softens, and you begin fiddling with the edge of your napkin, a subtle sign of nerves he’s come to recognize.

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his hand gently over yours. “You okay?” he asks, his tone soft but laced with concern. You glance up at him, hesitating for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His brow furrows slightly, but his touch remains steady, reassuring. “I’m all ears.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze flicking between him and the table as you speak. “So, um... in three weeks, my brother is getting married. The wedding’s in Daegu, my hometown and my whole family's planning.. all these... these events leading up to it, and...” You pause, mustering the courage to meet his eyes. “and I’d really like you to come... with me.”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily caught off guard. You’ve rarely spoken about your family during your time together. All he knows is that you have an older brother whose name is Kim Taehyung, and that your work keeps you far from home. You’ve always been reserved when it comes to personal matters, and he never pushed, understanding that some things take time to share.

“You want me to meet your family?” he asks, his voice careful but touched with wonder.

You nod, your fingers curling slightly under his. “I know it’s a big step, but... you’re important to me, Jungkook. I want you to know them and I want them to know you... and i just.... I just want you to be there.”

His heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. He squeezes your hand gently, a soft smile curving his lips. “Of course I’ll go.” he says, his voice steady and full of certainty. “Thank you for asking me. This means a lot, Y/N.”

You exhale, relief washing over your features as your lips tug into a smile. “You have no idea how nervous I was to bring it up.”

“Well, you don’t have to be nervous about anything when it comes to me.” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. “Though... should I be nervous about meeting your family? Any tips I need to survive?”

You laugh, the tension melting away as his words reassure you. “Just be yourself. They’ll love you... I hope.”

“They’d be crazy not to.” he grins, his confidence laced with a playful charm.

As the conversation moves forward, Jungkook can’t shake the weight of what you’ve just shared. This isn’t just an invitation... it’s a glimpse into the part of your world you’ve kept hidden. And he knows, without a doubt, that he wants to be part of it.

//

The three weeks seem to blur together for Jungkook, filled with excitement, planning, and the growing anticipation of returning to Korea. Now, he’s standing just outside the bustling airport, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, glancing at the crowd for any sign of you. He knows you’ll be here soon with the tickets, and just the thought of seeing you has a smile tugging at his lips.

It’s been years since he last visited Korea, and the idea of going back stirs up a mix of emotions... nostalgia, eagerness, and a tinge of nervousness. But it isn’t just your family he’s excited to meet... he can’t stop thinking about reuniting with Yoongi, an old friend from his university days.

Jungkook remembers how they first met. Yoongi, fresh from Daegu, adapting to the fast pace of New York, with a wit and humor that made their friendship click instantly. They spent countless nights bonding over shared meals and dreams, but after Yoongi finished his studies and returned to Korea, they lost touch. Now, the opportunity to see him again feels like a bonus to this trip.

When Jungkook had mentioned that he'd be visiting Daegu for a short trip to Yoongi during a rare phone call, Yoongi had insisted, “You better visit me for lunch or dinner the second you land, Jeon. I’ll be waiting.” It had been less of an invitation and more of a command and a promise Jungkook fully intends to keep.

His thoughts are interrupted when he spots you approaching with your suitcase. Your face lights up the moment your eyes meet, and Jungkook feels his heart lift as he strides forward to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, planting a soft kiss on your lips, his familiar warmth seeping into you.

“You ready for this?” you ask, your grin contagious. “With you? Always.” he affirms easily, grabbing your suitcase to lighten your load as the two of you head towards security.

After passing through the usual chaos of airport checks, you finally board the plane. Jungkook trails closely behind, his eyes scanning the rows of economy seats, prepared to settle in for the long flight. But you keep walking, breezing past one row after another, heading towards the front of the plane.

“Y/N...” he calls softly, a frown of confusion crossing his features. “I think we passed our seats.” You barely glance back, simply motioning for him to follow with a playful wave of your hand. “Just trust me, Kook.”

Jungkook’s confusion only grows as you step into the business class section. His steps slow as he takes in his surroundings... the stark difference from the cramped seats in economy hits him instantly. Business class looks like another world.

The seats are spacious, arranged in private compartments with high partitions for privacy. The lighting is soft and ambient, with a warm golden glow that feels more like a cozy lounge than an airplane cabin. Flight attendants move quietly through the aisles, offering passengers drinks and handing out fancy pajama sets.

Jungkook’s jaw drops as he watches you casually slide into one of the luxurious seats, making yourself comfortable. He hurries forward, his voice incredulous. “Y/N, this is business class... Our seats aren’t here!”

You look up at him with a calm smile, gesturing to the seat beside yours. “They gave me an upgrade.” you say simply, patting the spot for him to sit. His eyes narrow in confusion as he sets down his bag. “Upgrade? Can we even afford this?” he asks, using his hands to gesture towards the private compartment.

You laugh lightly, already reclining your seat with the touch of a button. “Relax, Kook. My family has some business ties with the airline. It’s just a little perk.” (Nick Young coded girlfriend)

“A little perk?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief as he finally sits down. He presses a button on the armrest, watching in awe as the seat reclines into a flatbed. “Y/N, this isn’t a perk... this is a dream. Look at this place! It’s like a five-star hotel in the air.”

You grin, watching his childlike amazement as he fiddles with every feature. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to economy class now...that feels like a distant nightmare.”

A flight attendant approaches with a tray of pre-departure champagne, offering the glasses with a polite smile. Jungkook accepts one hesitantly, holding it up like it might break. “Champagne? On a plane? This is insane.” he continues.

You can't help but giggle at his cuteness as you casually take a sip from your glass as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

As the plane prepares for takeoff, Jungkook leans back in his seat, still marveling at the luxurious surroundings. He sneaks another glance at you, the contentment on your face making his heart swell. This trip is already shaping up to be unforgettable, and it hasn’t even truly started yet.

//

Jungkook feels the weight of your pout pressed against his chest as you stand in his arms, his hands gently brushing through your hair in a comforting motion. He can’t help but smile softly, though he feels the tiniest tug at his heart seeing you so disappointed.

He knew this lunch with Yoongi was important, and he knew you understood... at least, logically. But seeing the way you looked at him, that little furrow between your brows, made him feel a little guilty. “It’s just lunch, baby.” he says, his voice soothing, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

“I promised him, and he never takes no for an answer.” He chuckles softly, but his smile fades when he feels the reluctance in your grip on him.

You knew he had plans with Yoongi the moment you touched down in Daegu. You had known this from the start, had heard about the lunch plan in passing, but that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake.

The thought of him going off without you, to catch up with an old friend while you drove home alone, kind of made you sad. You were fully aware of the importance of this lunch, but that didn’t stop the tiny selfish part of you from wishing he’d be with you, just for a little while longer.

“I know...” you murmur, your voice betraying the tiny bit of sulk in your tone, but you try to let it go. You weren’t going to hold him back. "Fine." you finally say, pulling back to meet his gaze.

And the way he looks at you affectionately makes you feel like you’ve won some small victory. “But...” you add with a little smile. “I expect you to be at my place at 7. You know my grandma’s having that traditional tea ceremony thing and I promised her I was bringing someone special home.”

His eyes light up at your words, the thought of joining you for something so important and so personal. “Of course.” he replies without hesitation, his voice earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

You smile softly, knowing he means it. And yet, despite his assurances, you can’t shake the lingering feeling of missing him. Just a little. Before you can dwell on it too much, you hear a voice break through the moment.

“Ms. Kim.”

You turn, blinking a little in surprise as your driver steps forward, his presence bringing a sudden rush of formality to the otherwise intimate moment. “The car is here.” he states matter-of-factly, and you know that this is your cue to part ways.

You sigh softly, reluctantly loosening your hold around Jungkook’s waist, but not without giving him one last lingering look. Your lips curl in a pout, but you try to hide it behind the gentle smile you offer him.

“Okay then…” you start, your voice trailing off as you look at him, uncertainty settling in your chest. “I’ll see you soon?” The question hangs in the air, like a promise and a plea all at once.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, that familiar ache in his chest growing stronger as he sees the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. But then his lips curl upward, soft but sincere. “Of course, baby. I’ll be there. I love you.” His words are steady, and his eyes hold something deeper than just affection... something unwavering.

You nod quickly, feeling a mix of relief and longing. “I love you too.” you whisper back before turning away, following your driver towards the airport's exit.

Jungkook watches you walk away, his heart heavy in his chest, the pang of guilt creeping up again. He promises himself to make it up to you later. Now, he just needed to get through lunch with Yoongi.

But as soon as the sound of your footsteps fades and you disappear from his sight, his phone buzzes in his pocket. The familiar name on the screen catches his attention, and he answers without a second thought. “Hey, Mom.”

Her voice crackles through the line, warm but concerned. “Hello Jungkook-ah, I just wanted to check in. You landed safely?” she asks.

Jungkook listens to his mom’s voice on the other end of the line, the familiar warmth making him smile despite the anxiousness he feels about what’s ahead. He’s about to step into a world that’s so different from New York, where he’s spent most of his adult life. But now, back in Korea, things feel unfamiliar in a way that both excites and intimidates him.

“Yes, Ma... I landed a while ago.” he answers, feeling a small wave of relief hearing her voice. “That’s good, honey... How’s Y/N?” she asks with that gentle concern she always has for the people he cares about.

“She’s good. She just left though, and I’m waiting for Yoongi to come pick me up.” he replies, smiling softly as he instantly thinks of you. “How does it feel to be back in Korea?” he hears his mom question, her tone soft but curious.

He smiles, leaning against the nearest pillar with his luggage beside him as he waits for Yoongi. “So far, so good, but I’m still at the airport, so I can’t say much.” he jokes. His mom lets out a quiet laugh, the sound comforting.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she switches to a more serious tone. “Remember what I told you, Kook... Stay put there. You know how it is in Korea... with the elders and the... the people. It’s very different from here, so please take care with what you say and how you say it.”

It’s a reminder he’s heard before, but hearing it again feels heavier now that he’s here, about to meet your family and step into a culture that’s rooted in tradition and respect, something that’s been passed down for generations.

Jungkook’s smile falters for a moment as he nods, even though she can’t see him. He knows exactly what she means. He’s always been more carefree, more western in his ways of expressing himself, and in Korea, especially when it comes to elders, there’s a deep respect for hierarchy and custom that’s different from what he’s generally used to.

“I know, Ma. I’ll keep everything in mind.” he assures her, his voice more serious now. “You’re not a kid anymore, Kook, but just... be mindful, okay? Don’t let them misunderstand your intentions. I just want you to be careful.” Her voice softens with motherly concern, and Jungkook feels his heart warm.

“I will. I promise.” he replies, knowing that this trip, meeting your family... it’s more important than ever to prove to them that he’s not just another guy in the city.... he’s not just your boyfriend. He wants to show them how serious he is about you and the future you guys could have together.

He glances around at the busy terminal, the buzz of passengers and the distant announcements. It all feels so different from New York. So... foreign. But he’ll make it through. He’s used to adapting. And this, he tells himself, is just the beginning.

“Alright, Kook... you take care, yeah?” she says. Jungkook hums. "I will. Bye, Ma." he replies back and soon, the call ends.

Just as Jungkook tucks his phone back into his pocket, he hears a deafening roar that cuts through the murmur of the airport. The unmistakable sound of an engine revving... loud, aggressive, and powerful, draws his attention immediately.

His head snaps to the right, eyes scanning the street. His gaze locks onto a sleek purple Lamborghini, its engine purring with a force that vibrates the ground beneath him as it races towards him.

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an instinctive suspicion flickering across his face as the car approaches. He’s not sure why, but something feels… off, or rather, intriguing. The car comes to an abrupt halt right in front of him, the tires squealing as they grip the asphalt. Jungkook freezes, blinking in disbelief.

The tinted window slowly rolls down, and for a moment, everything seems to move in slow motion. When the driver’s face comes into view, Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. “Yoongi?!” he exclaims, his voice tinged with utter shock and disbelief.

Yoongi grins, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ain’t no way...” Jungkook mutters under his breath, still processing the surreal sight of Yoongi sitting behind the wheel of a car that looks like it belongs to someone straight out of a high-stakes action movie. Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused by Jungkook’s reaction.

“What’s good, my man? Meet my baby.” Yoongi says with a sly smirk, his fingers casually tracing the contours of the steering wheel like this car was just an everyday ride for him.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open in awe. He can’t remember the last time he was this speechless. The purple Lamborghini gleams under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the neon glow of the airport. Jungkook’s eyes follow every curve, every sharp angle, as if seeing it in person is somehow more unreal than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi, clearly unfazed by the wide-eyed look Jungkook is giving him, steps out of the car with an effortless swagger. He’s dressed in an oversized, silk button-up shirt that drapes over his frame in a relaxed way.

The half-sleeves of the shirt billow out just above his elbows, adding a laid-back yet refined touch to his look. Paired with the shirt are matching shorts that reach just below his knees, the material soft and flowy, almost weightless.

Around his neck, a thick silver chain glints in the sunlight, its boldness standing out against the simplicity of his outfit, giving him an air of casual but undeniable wealth.

Without a word, he grabs Jungkook’s luggage from the ground and begins loading it into the trunk of his car.

Jungkook snaps out of his daze and watches him, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Get in, dude." Yoongi laughs with a nudge to Jungkook’s shoulder, his tone light, almost playful, as he walks back around to the driver’s side.

Jungkook slides into the plush passenger seat, still feeling like he’s stepped into another world. The interior of the Lamborghini is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. As his eyes roam around, Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s in a dream.

Every inch of the car screams excess, sophistication, and unspoken wealth. The steering wheel is trimmed in carbon fiber, the gearshift feels solid in Yoongi’s hand, and everything seems perfectly engineered, like it was crafted for the few who could afford such a ride.

Yoongi starts the engine with a smooth hum, and Jungkook jerks his head towards him, still shocked. "You never told me you had a Lamborghini." he says, his voice betraying his disbelief.

Yoongi just laughs, his eyes glancing briefly at Jungkook before focusing back on the road. "Well, that's because I didn’t have this back in university." he shrugs nonchalantly, a casual smirk playing on his lips. The car pulls smoothly out of the airport, its engine growling like a beast waking up.

Jungkook stares at him, still processing everything. "But wow, dude? You hit the lottery or something? This car is insane." he breathes out. Yoongi chuckles again but doesn’t answer, as if the question doesn’t deserve a response.

The city of Daegu blurs by outside the tinted windows, the sun reflecting off the glass as they drive deeper into the heart of the city. Jungkook can feel the rhythm of the drive, the perfect balance between speed and luxury, as the Lamborghini effortlessly weaves through traffic, its engine purring in a low, contented hum.

The sound of the tires on the road and the occasional rumble of the car’s exhaust fill the silence between them as they talk. Their conversation drifts to more casual topics... catching up on life after university, their mutual friends, and everything in between. Jungkook listens intently, but something about the ride and everything else, still has him on edge.

Then, suddenly, the city streets begin to change. The hustle and bustle of downtown Daegu fades away, replaced by quiet, tree-lined roads and grand, gated estates. Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion. The mansions are larger than anything he’s ever seen.

Multi-story buildings with sprawling lawns, perfectly manicured gardens, and tall gates that exude old money. The kind of money that felt untouchable, like a world he’d never thought he’d be a part of.

Yoongi slows the car as they approach a massive set of gates, gleaming with metal and ornate designs. They pause for a moment, and Jungkook watches as the gates swing open effortlessly, granting them access to enter.

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more as they drive in, the long, curved driveway leading them deeper into the estate. The mansion that comes into view is nothing short of breathtaking. It’s grand and set against the backdrop of lush trees, with a modern yet classic architectural style.

The house gleams under the afternoon sunlight, its windows large and open, letting the soft glow of interior lights spill out into the day. As they pass by, Jungkook can’t help but notice the impressive collection of cars parked near the house, each one more expensive than the last.

There’s a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, a gleaming Ferrari 488, a silver Porsche 911 Turbo, and a sleek Aston Martin DB11, all parked in perfect alignment, as if they belong to the same elite circle. The cars shine brightly in the afternoon sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the elegance of the estate.

Jungkook’s mouth hangs open, his mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding around him. He’s never seen anything like this in his life. "What is this… What is this place?" he breathes out, his voice almost reverent, like he’s stumbled into a world that doesn’t seem real.

Yoongi’s smirk is still there, a knowing glint in his eyes as he pulls the car to a stop, right in front of the grand entrance of the beautiful mansion. He looks over at Jungkook, his tone casual but with a hint of pride. "Welcome to my crib, Kook." he says.

Jungkook's mouth open, words just stuck in the middle of his throat. His mind is still processing everything, the scene outside seeming like a surreal dream. This is all too much to take in.

Yoongi was RICH rich and he didn't have a single clue about it. As they step out of the car, Jungkook notices a man approaching swiftly towards them and by the looks of his attire, it's clear that he's a guard.

Without missing a beat, Yoongi tosses his car keys at him, and the man catches them with practiced ease. "He'll grab your luggage in a bit." Yoongi says casually, already heading towards the mansion's entrance. Jungkook, still processing whatever the hell this is, follows him like a lost child, unable to do anything but take in the overwhelming sight that surrounds him.

The moment they step inside the house, Jungkook's eyes widen, but before he can even begin to appreciate the stunningly opulent interiors like marble floors or the high ceilings or the glistening chandeliers, a shrill voice cuts through the air. "Yoon, you're hereeee!"

Jungkook’s brow furrows as he watches a woman, probably in her 50s, stand right in front of them. She’s dressed in a chic, over-the-top outfit... a silk floral blouse with exaggerated puffed sleeves, tailored trousers, and a lavish pearl necklace that gleams with the faintest hint of arrogance.

Her perfectly styled hair is in a tight updo, and in her arms, she cradles a fluffy kitten, which she’s stroking affectionately, completely oblivious to Jungkook's stunned expression.

Yoongi barely reacts, his face giving away nothing as he responds, "Yes, mom." with a tone that suggests this is nothing out of the ordinary. Without hesitation, he gestures towards Jungkook, who’s still very much amused. “This is Jungkook, a friend from New York.” he introduces calmly.

She steps closer to Jungkook, her eyes widening as she takes in his appearance. "Such a handsome face." she says with a bright smile, fluttering her lashes dramatically. Jungkook feels his ears turn red, but tries to mask it with a polite smile.

"Come, come, why are you still standing by the door?" she continues in a sing-song voice, already turning towards the grand dining hall. "Lunch is just about to be served."

Without waiting for a response, she leads them through the sprawling corridor, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Jungkook follows, still processing the luxury surrounding him.

As they enter the enormous dining room, the sheer size of the table takes his breath away. It looks like something straight out of a royal palace, with intricately carved wood and sparkling silverware laid out meticulously. Seated around the table are five people, two men, a woman, and two little girls. The air feels heavy with formality and expectation.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook's distracted gaze, gestures towards each person with casual confidence. "That's my dad." he says, pointing to the middle-aged man sitting at the center of the table who gives Jungkook a bright smile, as he nods acknowledging his presence.

"That's my brother, Geumjae." Yoongi continues, nodding towards the younger man seated to the left. Geumjae has the same sharp features as Yoongi, and he cheerfully waves at Jungkook. "Yooo." he says.

Next, Yoongi points at a woman sitting beside him. "That's his wife, Chaeri." he adds, the warmth in his voice making it clear they have a close bond. "And those are his daughters, Minji and Yuna." he finishes, gesturing to the two little girls sitting next to each other as they giggle shyly to themselves.

Jungkook nods politely at everyone, his nerves creeping in as he takes in the situation. Yoongi's family seems very welcoming, but he's still extremely nervous. He’s not used to this kind of environment, and it shows, but he quickly remembers his manners. He straightens up and gives a right-angled bow, a gesture of respect that his mother taught him for situations like this.

"Hello, I’m Jungkook." he says, his voice steady but laced with a slight hint of uncertainty. He smiles warmly at them, hoping his attempt at a formal greeting isn’t too awkward.

Jungkook feels a shift in the atmosphere as Yoongi's father lets out a hearty laugh. "Yahh, no need to be so formal." he chuckles, waving a hand dismissively.

"Come, take a seat before the food gets cold." His voice is warm and inviting, making Jungkook relax a little. Geumjae, his brother, nods in agreement. Jungkook looks at Yoongi, unsure, but Yoongi simply gives him a small shrug and gestures for him to sit.

They both take their seats, followed by Yoongi’s mother, who settles herself gracefully at the table. Jungkook glances around, noticing the opulence of the setting... the gleaming china plates, the glistening silver cutlery, the rich aroma of the food filling the air. He feels a bit out of place but tries to steady himself, taking in the high-end cuisine laid out before him.

Once everyone is served, Jungkook’s mind races for a moment as he looks at the elaborate dishes in front of him. He’s unsure where to begin, not used to this kind of extravagant meal. It’s all so foreign to him, but before he can pick up his chopsticks, Yoongi’s father breaks the silence.

"So, what brings you here, Jungkook?" he asks, his deep voice cutting through the air with curiosity. Jungkook swallows his nerves before answering.

"Oh, I’m... I’m here with my girlfriend for her brother’s wedding." he replies politely, hoping his words don’t come out too awkwardly.

"Wedding, huh?" Yoongi chimes in from beside him, raising an eyebrow. Jungkook simply nods in acknowledgment, hoping the conversation will shift.

"So this is your girlfriend’s hometown?" Geumjae asks, his voice calm but probing.

"Yes." Jungkook confirms with a small smile, relieved to stick with the easy part of the conversation. "But damn, dude, when did you get a girlfriend? The last time I remembered, you were afraid to even approach girls in university." Yoongi teases, a smirk on his lips.

Jungkook freezes for a moment, feeling a flush of discomfort rise in his chest. The comment feels casual, but the atmosphere around him is so formal that it catches him off guard. He glances around the table, noticing that everyone is relaxed and waiting for him to answer, as if this were a normal part of their dinner conversation. He takes a breath and tries to steady himself.

"Well... I wasn’t really afraid to approach them." he says, carefully choosing his words. "I just had other things to focus on." He offers a half smile, hoping to deflect the attention.

Yoongi chuckles, clearly amused, but doesn’t push any further. "What did you say her name was again?" he asks, his tone light.

"Oh... it’s Y/n." Jungkook replies, a smile creeping onto his face as he thinks about you. Just saying your name makes him feel warm inside, and he can’t help but let a soft grin escape.

"Y/n?" Yoongi’s mother repeats, her brows furrowing slightly, as though the name is familiar but somehow surprising. Jungkook tilts his head, not fully understanding the change in her tone.

He nods, confirming with a small smile. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name."

The sudden shift in the room is palpable. Yoongi’s mother’s eyes widen, and her voice grows louder, almost demanding. "You mean... Kim Y/n?" she repeats, her tone now sharp, causing everyone at the table to freeze. The clinking of silverware stops as if time itself has paused.

Jungkook blinks in confusion. He can feel the weight of their collective gaze on him, a tension that wasn’t there before. "Yes, Kim Y/n. That’s her name." he says, his voice firmer this time, trying to keep his composure. He doesn’t understand why your name is causing such a stir, but he can sense something is off.

"Dude... the Y/n you’re dating is... Kim Y/n?" Yoongi’s voice is incredulous, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He leans back in his chair, almost scoffing in disbelief.

Jungkook’s confusion deepens. He looks at Yoongi, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh... yeah? You know her or something?" he asks, still trying to piece together the odd shift in the conversation.

Geumjae chuckles, clearly intrigued. "Who doesn't?" he replies. Jungkook furrows his brows, still lost. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, his voice laced with perplexity.

Before anyone can respond, Yoongi’s mother’s face lights up with a sudden realization. "Wait, wait, wait, so the wedding you're here for... it's... it's Taehyung's, isn’t it? It’s Kim Taehyung’s wedding!" She beams, her expression a mix of surprise and excitement, as if the revelation is the most obvious thing in the world.

Jungkook’s mind races. He’s still trying to connect the dots, but the sheer shock on Yoongi’s mother’s face throws him off balance and he wonders how she knows that information. "How... How do you know that?" he asks, still trying to process everything.

Before anyone can answer, Yoongi shifts in his seat, leaning slightly towards Jungkook, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Dude... do you have any idea.... who your girlfriend is?" Yoongi asks, the question hanging in the air like a bombshell.

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes, not understanding the gravity of the situation. His mind struggles to keep up, but he can't seem to make sense of the turn this conversation has taken. "What?" he asks, still confused. "Why... why are you asking me that?"

Yoongi leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if he’s just realized something monumental. "Dude... do you know who 'The Kims' are?? You're dating someone from 'The Kims'. That is literally insane." he states, his voice filled with disbelief.

He looks at Jungkook, half-amused, half-shocked, but when he still notices the utter confusion on his friend's face, his expression softens slightly. Yoongi leans in and places both hands on Jungkook's shoulders, trying to help him process the information.

"Dude, 'The Kims' are one of the most influential families in all of Daegu. Hell, in all of Korea." Yoongi’s voice is filled with a mixture of awe as he continues.

"They own so many companies, it’s insane. From massive real estate ventures, luxury hotels, tech firms, and even a few major pharmaceutical companies, they’re basically untouchable. Every major industry you can think of, 'The Kims' have their fingers in it." He leans back again, his hands still on Jungkook's shoulders, clearly enjoying his friend's stunned reaction.

"And Y/n? She’s a part of that family. I don’t even think you understand how big of a deal that is."

Jungkook’s mind is spinning. He sits there, his thoughts racing, but the words don't seem to connect. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, trying to make sense of everything that’s being said.

His head is still reeling from the idea that the woman he’s been seeing... someone he’s grown to care for so deeply... belongs to such a powerful family. He had never imagined that you, with your down-to-earth nature, would be connected to such wealth and influence.

Yoongi, noticing Jungkook’s silence, smirks before continuing, clearly reveling in the shock he’s causing. "If you were shocked just looking at the estate I live in, wait until you see the kind of place Y/n lives in."

His voice lowers slightly, his tone growing more serious, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. "Her family’s mansion? It’s like something out of a movie. It’s not like any place you’ve ever seen before. We're talking private security, a sprawling garden, a real private estate. It's on a whole other level."

Jungkook feels his stomach tighten as he tries to digest what Yoongi’s saying. He can’t even fathom how he didn’t know this before, how he had no clue that something about your life was so different from anything he had known.

The thought of you being part of this world, a world so far removed from his own, leaves him just sitting there, not knowing what to do with this newfound information.

part 2 ->

[mayasaurusss]

I love your writing.Pls, can u do jinx gets reader to try out a lingerie 🙏

It fits you just right

Contains: suggestive themes but not exlicit smut, soft Jinx.

"Babyyy, I've got you something!" Jinx's loud voice echoes inside her hideout, catching your attention.

She has been gone for a couple of hours at least, having told you that she was going to do some of her usual mischief in Piltover. You bet she painted that town blue from head to toe.

She walks in on the helix, humming a made up song and carrying big patched sacks on her shoulders.

You get your from the couch and push away the book she so kindly took -stole- for you, following her small bouncing with your eyes. "Jinx! What have you..." she throws the bags on the ground just before your feet, their contents spilling all over the floor.

Trinkets of any type, scraps of dull metal, old cupboard sweets and clothes overflow from the linen sacks, tinkling resonating inside the room. You marvel at the many trinkets she got, turning over their glass shells and admiring the many colors reflecting on their metal surfaces. "Jinx!" you say while stuffing your hands inside the creases of a brand new coat, "where have you gotten all this stuff?!".

Her silence is enough to make you understand what she did before she even opens her mouth. "What?! They took everything from us, I'm just repaying them the favor" she moves around you and watches as you intently examine every object she took -stole, again-.

"I told you to me and to me again, you gotta stop steal-" you are rudely interrupted by her exasperated voice, "Yeah yeah I get it! I know".

Silence fills the space again, something that doesn't usually happen while Jinx is there. You look up to see her usual pale skin tone replaced by a faint pink. Her bottom lip is pressed beneath her teeth and her eyes avoid yours. You can already feel a bit of annoyance at her almost childish ways taking their place on the sides of your brain, "What is it?". A small choked sound comes from Jinx's throat, she rocks in the balls of her feet for a moment before you see her taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes and pushing a paper bag towards you. You blink your eyes a few times, surprised by her, before you take the paper bag and open it.

Inside it sits a small brown packet. The way it's nearly stored gives away that whatever is in there must be special to Jinx's standards. The brown paper is adorned with Jinx's signature drawings, colorful traces of crayons depicting small characters -mainly you two holding hands- , scenarios and hearts all over it. A pink ribbon ties everything up, completing the picture.

"Jinx, what is this?" you ask her, earning a whine from her blushing figure. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, no?".

She watches in anticipation as you unite the ribbon, carefully peel the paper back and...

A set of lingerie sits in front of you, all embroidered and neatly stored. "Do you like it? It's even in my color..." Jinx's words make you realize that the set is a deep navy blue.

You snort at her words. "Really? You steal a pair of lingerie and your first thought is to search for blue ones?" she would have reacted shyly if she hadn't seen the playful smirk on your lips. "I-I mean... It's important, you know?" you walk closer to her, making sure to sway your hips as you do.

"Why? You like seeing me all pretty for you, in your favorite color?" as if she wasn't red already, blood starts to pump even faster into her veins, making her look like a tomato.

"Y-yes I do! N-now put these on!" she roughly shoves the pair against your chest, much to your amusement. "Alright, just wait here, cutie" the way your voice drags over the last word makes something inside of Jinx move, pumps blood in her heart and in her hips.

A few minutes pass by, Jinx's mind already finding new things to think about, when she hears your sing songy voice "Cominggg".

A gasp leaves her when she sees you wearing the lingerie on your skin. It's just perfect, emphasizes every curve of your body, every scar, mole or freckle visible through it: and most importantly, it's her color.

"Wow..." Jinx sits up from the couch, reaching her hand to touch your shoulders, then traveling to grab at your hips. "It fits you just right..." her eyes are glazed and cheeks pink as the ribbon she used to tie your little present up.

"Sooo? Do you like it?" you let out a gasp as her grip on your hips tightens, making you suck in a sharp breath. The way she has you at her mercy makes something pull at your heart strings.

And Jinx? She looks like an absolute mess. Pretty flushed cheeks, eyelids heavy with desire, mouth open and heart full of desire. "Like it? I fucking love it" her nose presses against the cease of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You look so good in this..." she starts to press kisses, electric against your skin. "How did I ever find someone as perfect as you?" her words come out as hot as molten lava, as sweet as honey.

"Jinx..." your breaths are heavy against the unnatural cold of your home. Jinx slides her hand up to your neck, hugging you closer to her. All her newfound confidence suddenly blurs and you can feel her heartbeat through her chest on yours. Again, that shyness she harbors for you and you alone resurfaces, making her look so small against your body. She pushes her lips outwards, pouting a bit before she asks something of you.

"Could we...you know..." her voice is hoarse, creacking here and there. Deep violet eyes stare at yours, assessing if you understand her and silently waiting for an answer. "Could we...what?" you already know what she wants to ask you, but you are having far too much fun teasing her. Her eyes widen for a moment and she swallows hard, before looking at her boots. "You know...you know what I mean...".

You still aren't satisfied with your teasing, waiting for her to admit what she truly wants with words instead of embarrassed chocked sounds. "I don't think I do" that dumb smile of yours only makes Jinx feel more and more embarrassed, tempted by your lips but pulled back by her shyness. She can't do it anymore. With an exasperated whine, Jinx strengthens her grip on the back of your neck and pulls you down towards her, kissing your lips fiercely.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue, all sighs and touches, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. You pull back from her, lips wet, feeling blood rise up from your veins into your cheeks. "Woah...I guess that was enough" you say, giving her a knowing smirk and earning a sigh from her, before she brings you back to her lips. "Oh shut up toots".

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[mssalo]

Hummingbird - Part: I

Summary: In the quiet town of Jackson, Joel becomes consumed by a dark and overpowering obsession with his new neighbor. What begins as fascination quickly spirals into something much darker as he loses control over his desires.

3,6k

Warnings:  +18, MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, obsessive!Joel, stalking, voyeurism, dark themes, explicit sexual content, masturbation, age gap (not specified), unprotected PIV, noncon, sexual obsession, power imbalance, dark!Joel, inappropriate behavior

Part: I

Here’s Part II.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

In the quiet of Jackson, where the rhythm of daily life had settled into a predictable monotony, something delicate and strange began to intrude upon Joel Miller’s routine. It was a morning like any other, with the sun rising lazily over the horizon, casting a gentle golden hue across the town. Joel was out on his usual run, his steps methodical and unhurried as he made his way back to the his house, his mind occupied with mundane thoughts.

It was then, amidst the usual rustle of leaves and distant hum of the town awakening, that he first heard it. At first, it was barely perceptible—a faint, ethereal sound drifting through the air like a whisper from another world. Joel paused, his attention momentarily snagged by the delicate melody that seemed to dance just at the edge of his hearing. It was as if the air itself had taken on a subtle, musical quality, a softness that contrasted starkly with the rough edges of his usual environment.

He turned his head, his gaze searching for the source of this unexpected serenade. It was coming from the house next door, a modest structure that had always seemed unremarkable, shrouded in vines and surrounded by the casual chaos of overgrown greenery. The sound was so incongruous with the house’s unassuming exterior that it felt like a secret whisper from within, something hidden and precious.

Joel’s curiosity was piqued. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch the essence of the melody. It was a hum—a soft, resonant tone that seemed to rise and fall with a natural, almost instinctual grace. The notes were like tendrils of mist, curling through the air and slipping past his defenses. He could only imagine the source, but it was enough to make him linger longer than usual, his gaze drawn toward the window of the house.

He paused, listening, his gaze instinctively drawn toward her house. Through the window, all he could make out was a fleeting shadow, a delicate form moving gracefully inside.

At first, Joel thought nothing of it, dismissing the moment as an odd distraction. But as the days passed, something began to shift in him. He found himself increasingly drawn to that house, his curiosity growing with every glimpse of her. It started innocently enough, with stolen glances as he passed by, but soon it became more deliberate. His steps slowed near her house, his eyes straying toward her window, searching for even the slightest sign of her. He was fascinated by the way she moved, by the way her hands gently tended to the garden, her fingers brushing over the petals of flowers she grew with such care. Each sight sent a strange rush through him, something that made his pulse quicken.

· · ─────

The first time Joel saw your face, it struck him with a force that knocked the breath from his lungs. He had been watching, hidden behind the blinds of his window, when you stepped outside. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath as your eyes met his, just for a brief, charged moment. Your wide, innocent eyes framed by long lashes, and the natural rosy glow of your cheeks, made Joel’s chest tighten. You smiled softly, the gentle curve of your lips triggering something deep inside him. He felt it immediately—a need so intense it nearly overwhelmed him. 

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a relentless pressure building in his pants. His body reacted violently to the sight of you—his cock hardening painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to approach you, to bridge the gap that separated you.

That was when the obsession began. 

He started to hear your voice more clearly, each utterance a sweet murmur that resonated deep within him. Even the simplest exchanges—casual hellos, friendly greetings—were like a siren’s call, drawing him deeper into his obsession. Your voice was a melody that seemed to play directly to his most primal desires. Every word you spoke, every laugh, every soft-spoken sentence made his resolve crumble.

As he observed you from a distance, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the way your clothes clung to your body—how your sundress gently swayed with each movement, exposing just enough to tease. The sight of your legs, bare and inviting, only served to fuel his obsession. His cock often grew hard and throbbing whenever he caught sight of you, straining painfully against his pants. The thought of you, so close yet so out of reach, drove him to the brink of madness.

One evening, as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, Joel found himself standing by his window, peering out at your house. His breath came in ragged gasps as he saw you stepping outside, your form illuminated by the fading light. You looked ethereal, your face soft and angelic in the warm glow. The sight of you made his cock pulse with need. He gripped the edge of the windowsill, trying to steady himself, but the pressure in his pants became almost unbearable.

He watched, nearly paralyzed with desire, as you walked to your mailbox, your hips swaying with each step. The way your dress clung to your curves made his mouth go dry. His hand instinctively moved to his aching cock, and he found himself pressing against it through his pants, trying to relieve some of the intense pressure. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of dirty fantasies—images of you, your soft lips wrapped around him, your body arching beneath him.

“Goddammit, baby” he cursed, his voice low and strained. “I need you so bad… fuckin’ want you so much…” His hand moved under his pants to his aching cock as he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. He imagined how you’d look at him with your pretty eyes as you took him between your soft pillowy lips. fuck.

The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

With every stroke, he imagined you moaning his name, your body shuddering with pleasure as he took you, over and over again. Pounding into your little cunt. He could almost feel the warmth of your body against his, the way your skin would feel under his hands. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, eyes locked onto your unknowing frame as he stroked himself, his mind filled with filthy fantasies of you. “I bet you’d feel so good wrapped around me, fuck…” 

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind filled with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Later, when Joel finally mustered the courage to approach you, he was a bundle of conflicting emotions—nervousness and raw, unfiltered desire coiling tightly within him.

The encounter had been a fantasy that had played out in his mind countless times, and now it was happening in reality. Every step toward your porch felt monumental, his heart pounding with a frenetic rhythm that echoed in his ears. His palms were slick with sweat, making his grip on the porch railing shaky as he approached.

He could barely contain the tremors that coursed through his hands and legs, the anticipation making his entire body vibrate with a desperate urgency.

You were seated gracefully on your porch, a book resting lightly in your lap, your legs crossed in a demure manner that only accentuated the delicate curve of your soft thighs.

The evening light painted you in a soft, almost ethereal glow, casting shadows that highlighted the gentle curve of your silhouette. Joel couldn’t believe how one could look so… pretty.

When you looked up and saw him standing there, your eyes widened with surprise, and a radiant, innocent smile spread across your face—a sight so pure and captivating that it made Joel’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hello,” Joel managed to say, his voice coming out rough and gravelly, betraying the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.

He struggled to keep his tone steady, forcing himself to act casual despite the intense craving gnawing at his insides.

Your smile only widened further, and your eyes sparkled with a blend of curiosity and warmth.

“Oh, hi! You must be Mr. Miller. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Joel’s gaze fell to your hand as you extended it in greeting.

Immediately his thoughts slipped to your delicate fingers gripping his throbbing member while he called you his goodgirl. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a rush of blood pool in his cock, which was now straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

Every move you made seemed to amplify his arousal, and he fought to maintain control as he forced himself to look up at your face.

The sight of you, so effortlessly charming and engaging, was overwhelming. His cock throbbed again with an urgent need that he could hardly contain, and he struggled to keep his composure as he looked at you. Do you know, what you’re doing to him?

“Call me Joel,” he said, his voice low and strained, barely above a whisper. His hands were clammy, and he had to clench them into fists to keep them from reaching out and taking you right on the floor.

You continued to speak, your voice a soft, inviting murmur that wrapped around him like a velvet glove, soothing yet igniting.

“I was just out here enjoying the evening. How are you?”

Joel’s eyes traced every movement you made, every subtle shift of your body.

The way you leaned forward slightly, the way your pretty pink lips parted in a soft, engaging smile—all of it was a tantalizing display that made his cock strain even harder.

He could feel the wetness seeping from the tip of his cock, staining the fabric of his pants, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to discreetly adjust himself while maintaining a semblance of normal conversation.

“I’m doin’ fine,” he said, his voice barely audible.

All he could focus on was the way you looked, the way your eyes sparkled with an innocent curiosity that heightened his yearning.

His mind was consumed by a storm of lustful thoughts, barely registering the actual conversation. Do you feel this pull, too?

The more you spoke, the more his body betrayed him.

Every smile you flashed, every soft laugh that escaped your lips, was like a provocative tease that made his cock twitch with uncontrollable arousal.

His fantasies grew darker with each passing second, imagining what it would be like to press you against the wall, to feel your body writhing beneath him, to hear your moans of pleasure while he sucked your perfect clit into his mouth and doing that, and more, for hours.

The thought made him shudder with a mix of desire and frustration, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Each accidental brush of your body against his was like a jolt of electricity. You’re talking, but he only grasps half of it.

When you leaned in to grab something from the table, your soft, intoxicating scent enveloped him, making his cock nearly explode with a desperate need.

He could barely keep himself together, his thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of dirty fantasies.

You, looking up at him while sucking on his twitching balls. Licking between them and going lower-

He interrupted himself before he would go actually insane.

You laughed at something he said, and the sound of your laughter—sweet and melodic—was like a siren’s call that fueled his desire further.

He envisioned your eyes filled with innocent curiosity as you took him in. The thought made his cock leak uncontrollably, the wet stain spreading on his pants a testament to his arousal.

Look down, baby. Look what you’re doing to me. Give me a fuckin’ reason.

· · ─────

As the evening drew to a close and you finally excused yourself, Joel was left standing there, his body trembling with a mix of frustration and unfulfilled desire.

He watched you walk back inside, your silhouette framed by the warm light of your home, and the sight only deepened his obsession.

He retreated to his own house, barely able to contain the need that simmered just beneath the surface.

Later, as he lay in bed, his thoughts were consumed by you. Every moment, every touch, every word you had spoken replayed in his mind with relentless intensity.

His hand moved to his aching cock, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his mind filled with filthy images of you. He imagined your soft lips on his skin, your body arching in pleasure beneath him. The intensity of his desire pushed him to the edge as he whispered dirty thoughts about you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. My goodgirl. You’ll be such a good fuckin’ girl.

“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he groaned, each stroke of his hand sending waves of pleasure through him.

I want to feel your tight pussy wrapped around me, hear you scream my name. I need to make you mine.

With each stroke, he envisioned you moaning his name, calling out to him. Daddy, sir, master, anything - as long as it’s you.

The thought drove him to the brink, and he came with a shuddering gasp, his mind flooded with the image of you—innocent and sweet, yet twisted into his darkest fantasies.

· · ─────

Joel knew his obsession with you was consuming him, but he couldn’t stop.

Every sight, every sound, only deepened his fixation. He was trapped in a cycle of desire and denial, the more he saw of you, the more intense his obsession became.

The twisted desire that had taken root in him was growing stronger, and he knew there was no escaping the dark, perverse longing that now ruled his every thought.

“I have to have her,” Joel whispered into the darkness, the words a promise and a curse. His mind was set on claiming you, making you his in every way. The thought of finally having you, of making you his possession, consumed him completely. He was lost in his obsession, and the only thing that mattered now was the need to make you his, no matter the cost.

Soon, we’ll be together - my sweet little hummingbird.

[theinnerunderrain]

The earth destroyed itself [Yan! Capitano x Fem! Reader]

Warnings: yandere themes, minor character death, brief description of violence, Capitano and reader are married and have a son.

+

"...What have you done?"

You stood at the entrance of the throne room, your heart sinking as your eyes fell upon the scene before you. Your beloved husband, bathed in the flickering light of the candles that lined the walls, stood over the lifeless body of your eldest son. His hands were stained with blood, a sword clutched tightly in his grasp. The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the torches and the sound of your husband's heavy breathing. You felt a wave of disbelief wash over you, followed by a deep sadness that seemed to seep into your bones.

You took a tentative step forward, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke again, "What have you done, my love?"

The word 'love' slipped from your lips like a fragile whisper as you took another hesitant step towards him, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest. Capitano remained silent, his gaze reluctantly leaving the lifeless form at his feet to meet yours, though his expression remained veiled by the helmet he always wore. Another eerie moment of silence stretched, the air thick with unspoken words and heavy with grief. You gathered your courage and stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the lifeless form of your son. His hair, once a vibrant hue, now marred by blood, framed his pale face, his eyes closed in eternal rest.

"What have you done?"

You inquired once more, your voice unwavering, as you hastened toward your son and knelt by his side. His blood seeped into the fabric of your white dress as you cradled his lifeless form, delicately brushing his hair from his eyes in a desperate bid to find a glimmer of vitality. Yet, his eyes stared back at you, vacant and hollow, his lips frozen in a silent plea, tears tracing lines down his once-rosy cheeks.

Capitano stood in solemn silence, his grip on the sword unwavering, before he spoke, his voice carrying a quiet resolve despite the heart-wrenching scene before him.

"It was an inevitability."

"What are you even talking about...! How could you do this? He's...he's our son!"

Your voice trembled, momentarily finding resolve, as you cradled your son's head against your chest. Tears teetered on the brink, poised to cascade down your cheeks, as you clung to him, reluctant to release his form. Amidst this tragic tableau, a narrative of his making, Capitano could not help it find you to be a vision of ethereal beauty.

"He was deemed dangerous. The prophecy forewarned of his tyrannical future, predicting he would pose a threat to your life."

He attempted to explain, dropping to his knees and reaching for your arm, yet you brushed him off as though he were tainted. You regarded him, lips pressed in a firm line, eyes brimming with a blend of sorrow and disbelief for the man who was once your beloved.

"A prophecy...? How could you entrust our son's fate to such a thing...?"

Your tone held a note of incredulity as you let out a bitter laugh, struggling to accept the rationale behind his actions.

"I couldn't risk endangering your life..."

He attempted to reason, but you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the air.

"So you chose to sacrifice his life instead..? How could you commit such a grievous act..?"

Your words, though laced with sorrow and accusation, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken questions. They resonated in the chamber, filling the space between you with a palpable tension, like the charged air before a storm. Capitano remained on his knees, his gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable behind his stoic facade. He felt the weight of your words, each one a dagger that pierced through his resolve.

"[First Name]..."

He called out your name with a soft yet commanding tone, reaching out to grasp your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you closer despite your desperate struggle. Your son's lifeless body slipped from your grasp, falling to the cold floor in a pool of his own blood as you wailed and cried, yearning to hold him once more. Capitano stood steadfast, allowing you to scratch and scream at him, though your efforts were feeble in his grasp. He remained unmoved, understanding the depth of your anguish.

"Let go of me..!"

In the aftermath of your son's death and your husband's betrayal, you found yourself overwhelmed with weariness and sorrow. Your futile struggles ceased as you surrendered to a wave of tears, the weight of the tragedy washing over you. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, your hands and knees stained crimson from the tragic events. Despite the wrongness of seeking solace from the man who had caused you such pain, his presence offered a strange sense of comfort in the midst of your grief and shock. Capitano's embrace was a gentle dance, a fleeting touch that spoke volumes of tenderness and restraint. In the depths of your sorrow, he stood as a silent sentinel, a pillar of strength amidst the tempest of your grief. His touch, like a soft breeze, caressed your pain, offering solace in the midst of your anguish.

After what seemed like an eternity, you gathered the strength to speak through your tears, your voice a fragile whisper echoing in the hallowed silence of the room, your words simple yet causing his heart to drop upon hearing it.

"You're nothing but a disgusting traitor to me, may you suffer for the entirety of your life and onto the next one."

[moonastro]

Juno persona chart

venus in the houses

what is a juno persona chart? looking into juno persona chart gives more detailed insight of how the relationship and marriage overall of you and your spouse will be like. it also describes them in a sense as well. The Greek Goddess Juno is described to rule over love and marriage and hence why the asteroid is looked into for that theme.

venus represents beauty, aesthetics and values. within the juno persona chart, venus signifies the love within the marriage, relationship style and the beauty that comes along in the marriage.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

**also this can also be used for signs as well, for example if venus in persona chart is in sagittarius, read what applies to the 9th house as it may resonate as well.

venus in 1st house: lots of embodying of one another. quite literal the definition of worshiping your partner. this placements loves their partners independence, courage and fiery aura. this placement is very protective and encouraging of their partner, they act as if they are their soldier, their guard. are quick to act upon when their spouse needs attention of any kind, are always willing to put their partner first. this placement may love how their partner matches their vibe very well but keeping their identity and staying true to themselves at the same time. they lovee their partner body, yes the appearance may play a big part here also and loving how their spouse looks and presents themselves but its more how they do it and not what they see at that moment if that makes sense.

spouse can have natal venus in aries, 1st house, fire sign or fire house.

venus in 2nd house: this placements way of showing love to their spouse can be by cooking a home cooked meal, buying tiny meaningful gifts to them also. can also be by organising a comfort space for their loved one after they are having a bad day or had a hard day at work. the aesthetic of the marriage is very chill, the couple have a comforting aura towards each other, they can be each others comfort space. income is valued amongst themselves and money matters a lot to this placement. this placement may spoil their spouse and may have a mindset of its only acceptable if i spend lots of money on the person that i love in order to show that i truly love them. this placement may value objects and may have a collection of some sort that they keep, perhaps its crystals, books, scarfs, earrings etc etc whatever it is it is very special to this placement and it is very appreciated when others acknowledge their love for objects and even better when someone adds to their collection.

spouse can have natal venus in taurus, 2nd house, earth sign or earth house.

venus in 3rd house: love is very much shown by hobbies and words. lots of words of affirmation 'you look beautiful today', 'i love you' and so on. lots of strolls through the neighbourhood and doing things and spending time within the neighbourhood. for example the couple could easily just go out on a walk around their neighbourhood and go on a creative venture. sharing love through buying latest technologies and sharing some technical skills to each other, it may be internet influenced approaches as well like going online shopping or buying majority of house items from online. the couples may value the arts of writing and their relationship with ones siblings, perhaps this placement has a solid connection with their siblings and may be a big part of their life and perhaps the other also has good relations with their spouses siblings and so forth.

spouse may have natal venus in gemini, 3rd house, air sign or air house.

venus in 4th house: love between the couple is caring, sensitive and very protective. this placement tends to be very protective of their spouse and almost to the point of they'll do anything for them. literally if their spouse gets upset they get upset and want to fix it. nothing is more important to them than them being happy. the couple value their family traditions and most likely will pass it on onto their kids and will make sure to teach their kids the importance of their homeland and heritage. this placement may love how invested their partner is about their ancestry and is always wanting to find themselves. the couple may connect by relating to they way they were brought up and may agree on many things. this placement may have good relations with their family and therefore may appreciate their spouse doing the same. the aesthetic of their home is very important for this placement, it provides not only comfort but a chance for them to create special memories that they'll remember forever and pass it on for generations to come.

spouse may have natal venus in cancer, 4th house, water sign or water house.

venus in 5th house: this placement may love how fun, independent, well spoken and creative their spouse is. the love between the couple are seen by many, they are not afraid to show their love to each other in public and are proud to show off their partner to other people. the aesthetics in this relationship may be part of an entertainment business, lots of creativity in this marriage, arts, singing, dancing, writing, anything that requires to be creative is valued among each party and may be a very important part of their identity and who they are. this placement enjoys pleasure so expect them to get their way and no other, this placement will do anything in order for them to feel satisfactory and the same goes with their partner, they may want only the best for their partner and will go all out for them to make sure they are happy and satisfied. this placement may enjoy intimacy like no other, being intimate in their eyes is art itself, it connects both parties and this placement may find it beautiful how the whole thing plays out.

spouse may have natal venus in leo, 5th house, fire sign or fire house.

venus in 6th house: this couples way of showing love is definitely through acts of service, this placement is ready to literally do anything for their spouse just to show how much they love them. taking care of their spouse is how they express their love for them for example if they are sick in bed or, if they are back from a long day in work and so forth. this placement may romanticise their lifestyle and put in as much effort into it in order to satisfy their needs and their partners. this also may refer to loving their other half's flaws and insecurities, being in love for who they are and not what they are, not caring what may be wrong with them as others may put it. this placement may provide and show love by factoring lots of labour for their partner also which quite literally can mean that they may perform services for their spouse whether its doing what they ask, going out of their way to do extra work for instance when it may not necessarily be needed.

spouse may have natal venus in virgo, 6th house, earth sign or earth house.

venus in 7th house: the love shared between the couple is romantic, everlasting type of love, the love you see of an long lasting marriage of an elderly couple. the couple may express their love through physical touch like holding hands, hugging, holding onto your arm and so on and anything that requires skin to skin contact. i feel this placement also loves to keep their peace and keep everything within the relationship fair. the aesthetic of the relationship may be very peaceful and full of luxurious items in the home, so the home can be very organised and every single item is picked out precisely to the tee. they love to go out shopping for the tiny luxurious things such as perfume testing or going to shop for artistic supplies. this placement loves when their partner goes all out for them and drops everything for them, the definition of having their full attention.

spouse may have natal venus in libra, 7th house, air sign or air house.

venus in 8th house: love can be shared in secret, i feel like with this placement they show love to each other privately so the public may not see that side of the marriage. the sign its in can tell how the couple may express it privately, so for example in aquarius, there may be lots on and off moments. the couple may get along when it comes to shared money so they may get along more when one one gets a bonus at their work, or if they got extra money and so on. this couple may not be seen in public together either, whether its due to each others work schedule or their routines, most of the time they keep it low. may appreciate when their partner trusts them especially when they open up about their trauma and difficulties in life.

spouse may have natal venus in scorpio, 8th house, water sign or water house.

venus in 9th house: love is shown through interest in topics in what their spouse has to say, for example if they have learned a new thing and they share it with their spouse and this placement is in full attention mode in order to show their full interest in what their other half has to say. this placement reminds me of 'did you know this' and 'did you know that' sort of thing, always sharing what they know to their spouse. this couple may value their higher education and are proud of their success in that field. this placement has a special spot for journeys and if their spouse takes them on a journey they will take that as in that they love them. they love it whenever what they say or teach to their spouse how they use that knowledge and share it with other people, this placement appreciates it and its a sign in their eyes that their partner believes and trusts them.

spouse may have natal venus in sagittarius, 9th house, fire sign or fire house.

venus in 10th house: the couple show their love by working hard and proving themselves to beyond expectations over and over again just to prove how much their spouse means to them. reputation has a lot of value, so this placement will spend lots of money to make sure their partner looks the best and feels the best. they may love it when they are exposed to others and them seeing the love that they have for each other. the couple appreciates the maturity of one another in professional situations, they know when to draw the line when it comes to professional titles. this placement loves and is proud of their partners career choices, they find it very motivating. this couple may like to show off lots, their luxury, their home, their cars, anything that may require competition, they like being on top as it shows their validity as respectful human beings.

spouse may have natal venus in capricorn, 10th house, earth sign or earth house.

venus in 11th house: the love between the two is known amongst social groups, everyone knows them as the couple. this couple may be role models and may be know online (the sign in which venus is in can tell you why, for example if in cancer the internet may view how caring one is for each other and how protective and family oriented they are and so forth). this placement may love how their partner is independent, how different they are from other people so they may feel like they hit the jackpot with their spouse. the relationship may be filled with lots of unconventional things and find beauty in those areas in their lives such as roles that are not usually done in a traditional way, they have their own way of finding the glam and beauty in their marriage, different from the stereotype couples.

spouse may have natal venus in aquarius, 11th house, air sign or air house.

venus in 12th house: the couples way of showing love to each other is dreamy and can make the other nearly read ones mind and make their desires of the way they want to be loved come true which makes it feel like their dreams have came true. but on the other hand there is lots of creativity in this marriage, lots of ethereal aesthetic and lots of desires to make their partners dream come true, so with this placements there is most likely going to be lots of travel surprises such as them buying a ticket and saying to their spouse 'yeah, we are going to this place in two days so get ready' but it might be a dream destination for their spouse. others may view this relationship to be a dream come true, there may be lots of illusions for other people that this marriage is perfect. this placement may love how creative, imaginative and out of this world their spouse is, perhaps their spouse is someone they have always dreamed off and they are the perfect representation of their perfect one.

spouse may have natal venus in pisces, 12th house, water sign or water house.

thank you so much for your time, i hope you have a good day like always>

[areislol]

ㅤㅤAN ACCIDENTAL CONFESSION — AL HAITHAM + KAVEH

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAnd what the hell were we? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTell me we weren't just friends

pairings. al haitham x fem/afab! reader x kaveh

warnings. MDNI/READ WITH CAUTION, lowercase intended, not an established relationship but kaveh/al haitham both harbour feelings for you and vice versa, college! au, best friends, reader is a virgin, accidental confession, both al haitham and kaveh focus on you, 18+ themes, explicit content, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), porn with feelings, foreplay, threesome, p in v, praise, protection kings!! rough/soft kissing, needy kaveh, soft dom! kaveh, dom! al haitham

synopsis. both al haitham and kaveh are fed up with an upset you arriving home at 1 in the morning, eyes red and puffy from crying over your date who turned out to be like the rest of the other guys you've went on a date with, a jerk.

wordcount. 9.3k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfriends

you stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting the folds of your outfit, every detail carefully curated after hours of contemplation. tonight was yet another date—your fifth one.

however, as you made your final preparations, alhaitham's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, his tone laced with veiled annoyance.

"where are you going?" he questioned, his gaze scrutinizing your dolled-up appearance.

with a sigh, you turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of resignation. "i'm going out," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "another date."

alhaitham's brow furrowed in frustration, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "another date?" he repeated, his annoyance palpable. "you know how these always end up. every man you go out with ends up being a jerk."

beside him, kaveh nodded in silent agreement, his expression mirroring alhaitham's. "it's like you're drawn to the wrong kind of guys," he added, his voice filled with concern.

"i know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "but i have to keep trying, don't i? i can't give up hope that someday, i'll find the right one sooner or later."

kaveh's expressions softened with understanding, alhaitham on the other hand wouldn't let this slide. his brows furrowed hidden anger as he continued to stare at you.

after a couple of seconds, kaveh stepped forward, enveloping you in a warm embrace. "just promise us one thing," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "promise us that you'll be careful, that you won't let anyone hurt you."

you returned the embrace, feeling the weight of his words resonate deep within your soul. "i promise," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'll be careful."

alhaitham let out a deep sigh, his eyes screwed shut. "i still don't approve of this but you better keep your promise. just give us a call if anything happens, we'll be waiting."

you nod your head, offering him a tender smile. you make sure that you look perfect before putting on your shoes and waving goodbye to your best friends. they return the wave, wishing you luck.

the door clicks shut, leaving the apartment shrouded in a heavy silence.

"... why did you wish her luck?" alhaitham asked, raising his brow. kaveh groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair. "i don't know, i did it by instinct, i think." he replied.

they had been down this road countless times before, watching as each of your dates inevitably ended in disappointment and heartache.

with a heavy sigh, alhaitham sank into the nearest chair, his features etched with a mixture of frustration and concern. "i don't know how much longer we can keep doing this," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

kaveh nodded in silent agreement, his gaze fixed on the floor. "i know," he murmured with regret. "but what can we do? we can't just sit back and let her do this to herself."

a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. for a moment, alhaitham and kaveh sat in contemplative silence, grappling with the weight of their unspoken feelings for you—their roommate, their best friend.

finally, alhaitham broke the silence, his voice tinged with determination. "we need to do something," he declared, his gaze meeting kaveh's with unwavering resolve. "we can't keep ignoring how we feel about her."

kaveh nodded in agreement, a flicker of determination sparking in his eyes. "you're right," he replied, his voice low and almost airy. "but what can we do?" alhaitham didn't respond, he stared down at his slippers and sat up straight.

"i don't know. we'll just have to wait and see."

standing in front of the elegant restaurant, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

the anticipation of the evening ahead filled you with a sense of eager anticipation as you checked the time on your phone—7:00 PM, right on the dot of your agreed time.

as you wait for your date to arrive, you can't help but admire the appearance of the restaurant, its ornate facade and inviting ambience promising a night of culinary delights along with the loud and enchanting conversation.

yet, as the minutes ticked by and your date failed to make an appearance, a knot of unease began to form in the pit of your stomach.

you glanced at your phone once more, the digital clock mocking you with its unyielding display of time. 7:05 PM. 7:10 PM. still no sign of your date. a sense of disappointment washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore, mingled with slight frustration at being kept waiting.

for a brief moment, doubt crept into your mind—had your date forgotten about your plans? or worse, had they stood you up altogether? amidst the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't help but cling to a glimmer of hope, a small voice whispering that perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for their lateness.

with a deep breath, you resolved to give him a few more minutes, your nervousness was gnawing at your heart. you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights. as the minutes stretched into an eternity, you finally made the decision to go inside the restaurant, with a heavy heart and a sense of resignation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

you made your way to a table for two, the empty chair across from you a stark reminder of your dashed hopes and unfulfilled expectations.

as you settled into your seat, the waiter approached with a warm smile. "good evening, madam," she greeted, her tone gentle and reassuring. "are you ready to order?"

you shook your head in response, a bitter taste lingering on your tongue as you explained the situation. "i'm actually waiting for my date," you admitted, "but it seems they're running late."

the waiter's smile faltered slightly, a pang of sympathy flashing across her features as she nodded in understanding. "i'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, her voice laced with genuine concern. "i hope they show up soon."

the waiter couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip, she had seen this scenario play out countless times before—lovers left waiting, hopes dashed, and dreams shattered. and even so, she couldn't help but hold onto a sliver of hope, praying that your date would arrive.

with a sympathetic smile, the waiter left you to your thoughts, giving you the space and time, you continued sitting there, surrounded by the soft hum of conversation and the tantalizing aroma of delicious food.

as the minutes dragged on and the sympathetic looks from surrounding tables grew more pronounced, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure under the weight of their silent scrutiny.

the whispers and glances sent in your direction felt like daggers to your already wounded heart, with a heavy sigh, you realized that you couldn't bear to endure another moment of the pitying stares and hushed conversations.

you couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment and regret crashing into you, you really should've listened to them. your eyes remained on the clothed table,

pushing back your chair, you rose from your seat and made your way towards the exit, the eyes of the other diners following your every move with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

as you reached the door, you ignored the prying eyes and hard gazes, you stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of disappointment heavy on your shoulders.

with each step you took away from the restaurant, a sense of relief washed over you, the oppressive atmosphere of the dining room gradually fading into the distance.

alone with your thoughts and emotions, you stopped just a couple of steps from the door—reaching into the pocket of your jacket you pulled out your phone, about to call alhaitham and explain, once again, about how your date went.

just as you were about to press the "call" button your finger was just hanging above the screen, was it really a good idea to call him now? you knew how this would play out.

"i told you so"

"what did i tell you?"

"when will you ever learn your lesson..."

the last thing you wanted to hear was alhaitham scolding you and his "i told you so". letting out a frustrated sigh you click your phone shut and stuff it back into your pocket. you decided to just walk home instead.

it wasn't that dark out, the sky was a mixture of dark blue and a slight tinge of orange hue. you tried your best to distract yourself with what was in your view but that was to no avail. you already knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened the door.

it was a reoccurring thing between you, kaveh and alhaitham. every time you went out on a date they would sigh in disappointment and try to talk you out of it but of course, it never worked.

despite your differences, a bond had quickly formed, forged through late-night conversations, shared meals, and the occasional movie marathon.

as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months and months turned into years, your apartment became a sanctuary—a haven where laughter echoed through the halls and memories were woven into the very fabric of the walls.

unbeknownst to each other, alhaitham and kaveh harboured feelings for you, their affections hidden behind smiles and casual banter. and in the quiet moments of the night, as you lay in bed lost in thought, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your own feelings mirrored theirs—a thought that both thrilled and terrified you.

as you made your way to your shared apartment you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt right through your chest, your two best friends who you knew cared deeply about you were always trying to help, and yet here you were, walking back home in the darkness after being stood up by your fifth date.

you heaved a great sigh, disappointed in yourself. once i go inside, i'll definitely apologize to them! you said to yourself before finally arriving at your apartment. you mentally prepared yourself and let out a sigh before shoving the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

you were finally home with... two clearly disappointed and concerned men.

you knew that as soon as you opened the door, a wave of bickering would hit you in the face, not that you really minded most of the time.

—

the memory of that night still lingers vividly in your mind, more so when your dates leave you staring at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong. you’re at the akademiya, seated at a study table under the soft, golden light of a desk lamp.

kaveh sits across from you, gesturing animatedly, a frustrated yet passionate artist explaining his latest design concepts. alhaitham sits beside you, quiet but ever-present, nose buried in a book, his occasional interjections laced with sharp wit aimed squarely at kaveh’s more extravagant claims.

"listen," kaveh says, leaning forward, his blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes. "do you know how hard it is to convince some people that aesthetics and functionality can coexist? alhaitham, for example, wouldn't know—"

"they can coexist," alhaitham interrupts, not looking up from his book. "but not when your design priorities lean toward creating monuments to your own ego."

you laugh, the sound drawing both of their gazes to you. kaveh’s annoyed expression softens, while alhaitham finally looks up from his book, his usual unreadable mask slipping just slightly.

"maybe if you stopped bickering for five minutes, i could help you settle this debate," you suggest, playfully bumping alhaitham’s arm. he looks at where your elbow touched his sleeve, then back to your face, the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips.

"unlikely," he says, but his tone lacks its usual sharpness.

kaveh groans. "honestly, how do you even put up with him? the man has the emotional range of a piece of petrified wood."

"better than being a storm of emotions no one asked for," alhaitham counters smoothly, making you laugh again.

the tension between them eases slightly at the sound, though neither of them would admit it. for a brief moment, there’s a silent understanding between the three of you, a shared connection that feels warm and unspoken. it’s a moment you’d later remember with a pang of nostalgia during one of your many failed dates—a reminder of the comfort and ease you find in their presence, even amid their constant bickering.

the night stretches on, and kaveh’s complaints blur into alhaitham’s occasional quips, you catch them both stealing glances at you when they think you’re not looking. kaveh’s gaze is warm, like sunlight filtering through leaves, while alhaitham’s lingers, as if trying to decipher a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved.

it’s a memory that clings to you, even as you sit through yet another disastrous date.

—

you pushed the side of the door open, being careful and slow with your movements as if that would magically make alhaitham and kaveh not notice you.

the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit interior of your apartment, a wave of apprehension washed over you like a cold, unforgiving tide. and there they were, just as you had feared—alhaitham and kaveh, sitting opposite of each other on the couch, their expressions a curious mix of concern and amusement.

alhaitham, ever the observant one, wore a knowing smirk on his face, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he met your gaze. he didn't need to hear your explanation—he knew exactly what had transpired during your date, and he was more than eager to tease you about it.

suppressing a sigh, you mustered up a weak smile, steeling yourself for the inevitable barrage of questions and teasing remarks that were sure to follow. "hey guys," you greeted, "i'm back."

kaveh nodded his head, his expression more subdued than alhaitham's, yet no less filled with concern. "welcome back," he murmured, his tone gentle. "how'd the date go? judging by the looks of it..."

his voice trailed off as he observed your face, you were clearly upset. "it didn't go well. you didn't call me or kaveh because you knew that we would scold you, right? did you really think that i wouldn't know?"

alhaitham's words were abrupt and caught you off guard. you swallowed the lump in your throat before letting your eyes rest and nod your head hesitantly, you were just going to blurt out everything.

"you're right. i just... look i'm sorry that i never listen to you guys, i know you guys care about me and i never listened to your advice and—"

you were cut off by the sudden sensation of a warm palm cupping your cheek. your eyes peeled open and to your shock alhaitham was right there, right in front of you. his face just inches away from yours.

caught off guard by alhaitham's sudden gesture, you froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as his warm hands cupped your cheeks gently. his touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a flutter of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as you met his sharp gaze with wide eyes.

his eyes held a warmth and intensity that sent your heart racing, a faint blush painting his cheeks in a delicate shade of pink. have you ever seen him so flustered before?

words failed you as you searched for something, anything, to say in response to his unexpected display of affection. the air between you crackled with unspoken tension.

there was a pregnant pause, and before you knew it alhaitham's lips parted, his voice a soft murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "i've been wanting to do this for a while," he admitted, his tone laced with longing.

a rush of emotions surged within you—confusion, excitement, love… lust. you had always harboured a deep affection for alhaitham (and kaveh), a connection that transcended the boundaries of friendship, yet you had never dared to voice your true feelings, fearing that the confession would change your friendship for the worse.

kaveh's sudden intervention shattered the intimacy between you and alhaitham, leaving a palpable tension hanging in the air. as kaveh placed his hand on alhaitham's shoulder, his glare bore into his roommate with intensity.

"i thought we agreed that we would take this slow," kaveh's voice was low and laced with a hint of frustration, "and that i could do the first move?!"

take this slow? kaveh doing the first move? what did he mean by that? were they planning something?

alhaitham remained silent, his focus unwavering as his eyes remained locked on you, his expression unreadable as his gaze roamed your face with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of his scrutiny stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you.

in that moment of hesitation, uncertainty gripped you like a vice, squeezing tight around your chest as you struggled to make sense of the tangled web of emotions unravelling before you. a part of you longed to just smash your lips against his.

but another part of you wants to push him away, you knew someone like alhaitham or kaveh wouldn't be interested in you, absolutely no way and chance. maybe alhaitham just had no sense of space? no it couldn't be... alhaitham was always cautious of the space between the both of you.

as the seconds ticked by, the weight of your decision bore down upon you like a heavy burden, you spoke up, breaking the tense silence that hung between you and your roommates. "i... guys?" you began, your voice trembling slightly. "what..."

your voice trailed off as your eyes flickered between alhaitham's and kaveh's, your eyes said more than enough. kaveh sighed, glaring at alhaitham once more before removing his hand from the pearl-grey-haired roommate's shoulder.

kaveh’s glare softened as he turned his gaze back to you, his expression shifting to something almost… vulnerable. he hesitated, but his eyes held a warmth that sent a flutter through your chest, despite your earlier doubts.

"look," kaveh said, softer now, "i wanted to tell you how i felt for a long time. i was just… scared, i guess." he let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "i didn't want to mess things up. we’ve all been living together for so long, and i thought, if i just took my time, maybe you’d—"

"maybe you’d what?" alhaitham cut in, his voice calm yet firm, though his gaze softened as he glanced between you and kaveh. "kaveh, you were dragging this out. i was tired of waiting for you to make a move." he then looked at you, his gaze piercing, his voice a low murmur. "but you have a say in this too."

both their eyes were on you now, waiting, and you felt a wave of vulnerability crashing over you. part of you was ready to tell them to forget it, to insist it was impossible that two people like them could actually feel anything for you. but that other part—that part that had wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and alhaitham moments earlier—begged you to take this chance.

heart pounding, you took a shaky breath and decided to lay everything bare. “i thought… you two were just teasing me all this time. like this was some kind of game.”

kaveh’s face softened as he reached out, his fingers grazing yours, sparking something electric between you. “it was never a game, not for me,” he murmured, voice low and rough with barely contained longing. “i’ve wanted you for so long. every time i held back, every time i watched you with him… it drove me crazy.” he shot a glance at alhaitham, his jaw clenched, before looking back at you, his eyes intense, burning with something raw.

alhaitham’s gaze was unwavering, filled with a hunger that sent a rush through you. he stepped closer, his fingers brushing your cheek, tilting your face to meet his gaze. “i don’t share easily,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “but for you… i’d rather share than let you go.”

the weight of their words crashed into you, heat pooling in your chest, spreading through your veins as you struggled to process the intensity of their confessions. your heart hammered as their gazes bore into you, each one daring you to respond, to give in to the passion simmering between you.

“i don’t want you to walk away,” you breathed, barely able to get the words out, your voice trembling with anticipation. the moment you said it, their expressions shifted—like wolves finally catching sight of their prey.

kaveh let out a shaky exhale, stepping in close, so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin. “so… you’re really choosing both of us?” his tone was teasing, but the edge of desperation was clear as he reached for your hand, squeezing it, his gaze dark with want. 

alhaitham’s lips quirked into the barest hint of a smirk as he leaned down, his mouth ghosting over yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “good,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur. “because i’ve been waiting far too long for this.” then his lips met yours, not gentle this time but demanding, claiming you with a passion that left you breathless. his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to drown in you.

the kiss ended, but your head was spinning, your breath shallow as kaveh took his turn. he didn’t hesitate, capturing your lips in a heated, needy kiss, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you against him as he let out a low groan against your mouth. he kissed you like he’d been starved, pouring every bit of pent-up desire and frustration into that kiss, his fingers digging into your skin like he never wanted to let go.

as they pulled back, their gazes seared into you, hot and possessive, leaving you trembling and flushed. alhaitham’s hand found your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze again. “we’re not holding back anymore,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “you’re ours now. understand?”

you swallowed, nodding, feeling the intensity of their words settle deep inside you. every inch of you was alive, buzzing with the thrill of finally being theirs.

kaveh’s fingers tightened around your waist as he pulled you closer, pressing his body flush against yours, his mouth moving with a fierce, desperate hunger. each kiss from him was deeper, rougher, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, and couldn’t stand the thought of letting you go for even a second. his hands slid up your sides, feeling, exploring, setting every nerve on fire.

alhaitham’s hand slipped under your chin, turning your face toward him as kaveh’s lips left a trail along your neck. his gaze held a dark intensity, his eyes blazing as he lowered his mouth to yours once more, this time with a slow, tantalizing hunger that made you melt against him.

his kiss was deep and claiming, his hand tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. he broke away just enough to murmur against your lips, his voice low and possessive. “tonight, you’re not leaving either of us.”

they moved as one, guiding you backwards, step by step until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. you barely had a chance to react before kaveh’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and lowering you onto the sheets. he climbed over you, his breath heavy and uneven, his eyes fixed on you with a need that made you shiver.

alhaitham was right beside him, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in every inch with a dark, dangerous smirk that sent a thrill through you. his hand slipped to your shoulder, pushing you back onto the bed as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone, sending waves of heat through you.

“we’ve waited long enough,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his hand drifted over your waist, firm and possessive as if to remind you exactly where you belonged. “and we’re not stopping until we’ve had our fill.”

kaveh’s hands roamed over your sides, his touch both soothing and electrifying, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that left you breathless, completely lost in him. you felt his fingers trace down to your hips, his touch growing bolder, needier, as he let out a low, throaty groan against your mouth. he pulled back, his face inches from yours, his voice husky with desire. “i’m not letting you go, not tonight.”

their hands intertwined as they held you between them, their breaths coming faster, hotter, their gazes locked on you with an intensity that made you feel utterly exposed.

their hands moved in unison, each touch lighting up every nerve as they explored, learning each curve, each reaction that drove you to the edge of your senses. alhaitham’s fingers trailed down your collarbone, pressing firmly as if marking you, his lips following close behind, leaving a scorching path along your skin. he moved with a confidence that left you dizzy, his gaze locked on yours with a look that was both possessive and admiring, making you feel utterly consumed.

kaveh, on the other hand, was all fervent energy, his hands eagerly roaming over you, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips, as though he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t believe you were actually there with him. his eyes met yours, softening for a moment, before he leaned in close, his voice a low, heated murmur in your ear. “i wanted this for so long... didn’t think i’d ever get the chance.”

their hands intertwined as they hovered over you, each touch driving you deeper into a haze of desire, their combined warmth pressing in on every side. alhaitham’s hand slid around to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned down, his lips barely grazing yours before capturing them in a slow, searing kiss that stole your breath.

he pulled back only to press a trail of kisses down your jaw, his hand sliding down to meet kaveh’s as they both moved over you, their touches merging, amplifying, until you were lost in them.

the way they worked together, each knowing instinctively how to push you further, was overwhelming, every movement calculated to keep you teetering on the edge. alhaitham’s smirk flickered at the sight of you, utterly undone, and kaveh’s smile softened, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of wonder. 

“you’re ours,” kaveh whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips grazing your ear before pressing a kiss there. “no more waiting, no more doubts. just us.”

the words hit you like a tidal wave, their weight sinking into your chest and filling every hollow corner of your heart. you couldn’t help but feel your legs tremble, though whether from the intensity of their presence or the truth of kaveh’s confession, you weren’t sure.

alhaitham, ever the steady one, noticed immediately, his arm wrapping securely around your waist to keep you grounded. his touch was firm yet tender, anchoring you to the moment while kaveh’s words pulled you further into an ocean of emotions.

kaveh’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a gesture so gentle it nearly made you break down. “do you know how long we’ve waited?” he asked softly, his honeyed voice trembling just enough to betray his own vulnerability. “how long have we watched you chase after things you didn’t need because you were too scared to see what was right in front of you?”

the words brought forth a flood of memories, moments you’d tried to bury in the recesses of your mind because they felt too intimate, too confusing. you thought back to that time in the akademiya library when you had worked late into the night, determined to finish your research. kaveh had arrived first, arms laden with snacks and tea, a dramatic sigh escaping him as he plopped into the chair beside you.

“you’ll burn yourself out like this,” he had said, offering you a bite of his food as though it was the most natural thing in the world. his hand had brushed yours when you reached for the tea, lingering just a second too long. 

then alhaitham had joined, quiet as always, slipping a warm blanket around your shoulders with an almost imperceptible sigh. “if you’re going to work yourself to death, at least have the decency not to catch a cold,” he’d said, but his hand had stayed on your shoulder a beat longer, giving it a squeeze that spoke volumes.

at the time, you’d chalked it up to kindness, their unique ways of looking out for you. but now, standing here with both of them, you realized how much of their affection had been buried beneath subtleties you’d chosen to ignore. 

—

“i can feel you overthinking,” alhaitham’s voice cut through your haze, sharp yet not unkind. he tilted your chin with two fingers, his piercing teal gaze meeting yours. “stop it. you’re here now, with us. that’s all that matters.”

kaveh let out a soft laugh, though it carried an undercurrent of frustration. “you really do make things harder than they need to be, you know that?” he teased, though the tenderness in his expression betrayed his words. “running off on all those pointless dates... what were you even trying to find, huh?”

heat crept up your neck at the mention of your failed attempts at dating. you looked down, only to have kaveh gently nudge your chin upward with a finger. “look at me,” he said, and his voice was so soft, so unbearably full of emotion, that you couldn’t resist. “you didn’t need any of them. you never did. did you think we wouldn’t notice? that we wouldn’t care?”

the vulnerability in his question broke something inside you. “i didn’t think... i didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i was just—someone to bicker with, someone to tease. i didn’t think i meant that much to either of you.”

kaveh’s eyes widened briefly, shock and something deeper flickering across his face. “you didn’t think—” he cut himself off with a disbelieving laugh, though there was no humor in it. “you’re everything to us,” he said, and the rawness in his tone made your chest tighten. “do you have any idea how much you mean to me? to us?”

alhaitham’s hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding you once more. his touch was steady, reassuring. “we’ve waited long enough,” he said, his voice low but firm, his teal gaze unwavering. “you’re ours now. there’s no need to run anymore.”

the truth of his words settled over you like a blanket, warm and inescapable. memories of their quiet devotion played in your mind like a reel. kaveh dragging you out for “fresh air” after a particularly grueling day, his arm slung casually around your shoulders but his concern evident in the way he kept glancing at your face. alhaitham staying up with you during a storm, his usual stoicism giving way to a quiet patience as he read aloud to distract you from the howling winds. they had always been there, waiting, even when you didn’t realize it. 

—

“you don’t have to keep fighting it,” kaveh murmured, his lips brushing your forehead. “let us take care of you for once.”

“don’t give them a choice,” alhaitham added dryly, though the smirk on his lips was softened by the way his fingers caressed the side of your neck. “we’ve already decided.”

you laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine. “you two really are impossible,” you muttered, but there was no malice in your words—only affection, deep and unrelenting.

“and yet, you’re still here,” kaveh pointed out with a grin, his hand finding yours and squeezing it. “which means you’re stuck with us. so stop running, and let us love you the way you deserve.”

the tears you hadn’t realized were building finally spilled over, but they weren’t tears of sadness. as kaveh’s lips met yours, warm and insistent, and alhaitham pressed his forehead against yours, grounding you in his steady presence, you felt something shift. the weight of doubt and fear melted away, leaving only the overwhelming truth: you were theirs. entirely, irrevocably theirs. 

kaveh’s lips found yours next, his kiss softer but no less intoxicating, filled with an urgency that made your knees weak. his fingers tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing into yours while alhaitham’s hands explored your curves, his touch firm and deliberate. “you’ve always been ours,” kaveh whispered against your lips. “you just needed to realize it.”

“and now you will,” alhaitham added, his voice steady but carrying a dangerous edge. his teeth grazed your jawline, sending another shiver through you. “we’ll make sure of it.”

your body melted between them, every nerve alight as they overwhelmed you with their presence. kaveh’s lips moved back to your neck, and his tongue flicked against a sensitive spot that made you gasp. alhaitham smirked at your reaction, his hands finding the curve of your waist and pulling you flush against him. “so sensitive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

kaveh chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “let us spoil you,” he said, his tone softening but his grip on you unwavering. “let us show you how it feels to be truly adored.”

your hands clutched at their shirts, grounding yourself as the heat between you all grew unbearable. their touches, their words, the way they worked together—it was dizzying, intoxicating, and everything you hadn’t known you needed. with every kiss, every touch, they erased your doubts, replaced them with a certainty you could no longer deny.

kaveh lingers there, lost in the sensation, nuzzling into the soft heat of your belly as if it were his lifeline. suddenly, he lifted his head up, moving closer to your breasts, you watched him impatiently, and just before you could speak, his tongue traced your sensitive buds, and a shiver ran down your spine.

his hot breath tickled your skin as he slowly dragged his lips over each tiny bud. you let out a soft gasp, my hands coming up to tangle in his hair. "fuck, that feels so good," you moaned, arching into his touch.

“wait, it’s my first time…” your hands place themselves over his shoulders, heat rushed to your cheeks at the lewd scene before you.

kaveh gazes into your eyes, his expression softening with tender affection as he cups your face in his larger hands "i promise to be gentle with you, darling. this is a special moment for us, and i want it to be perfect." his thumbs stroke along your cheekbones as he leans in to place a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips. "just breathe deeply and focus on the pleasure... let me take care of everything else."

he quickly dips his head, the soft hums of pleasure escaped his lips as he trails hot kisses along your sensitive nipples, lapping at the hardened nubs with a flick of his tongue. his hand kneads your breast, fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he pinches and rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

as he takes one nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily as he flicks his tongue rapidly over the bud. he grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. his other hand braces against the mattress, supporting his weight as he presses closer, his rigid length grinding against your thigh.

releasing your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connected with his lips to the abused bud. he blazes a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body, nipping and sucking at the smooth skin of your stomach before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants. “wait–”

with a tug, he yanks your pants and panties down your legs, baring your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. he takes a moment to admire the sight, his cock throbbing with need. he watches it for a couple of seconds, completely entranced and mesmerised before diving in to feast on your cunt. his tongue delves between your slick lips, lapping up the sweet essence as he holds your hips steady with bruising force.

all the while, alhaitham watches from the side, his palm resting behind your neck as he turns your head towards him, crashing his needy lips onto yours, brows furrowed as he kissed you impatiently.

kaveh moans softly at the sight of your perfect tits, the way your body shivered and trembled with each lick. his mouth waters at the scent of your arousal permeating the air. without hesitation, he buries his face deeper in your pussy. he licks a broad stripe up your slit, swirling around your clit before plunging his tongue deep inside your tight hole.

muffled gurgles emanate from his throat as he worships your cunt, slurping on your juices greedily. his eyes are transfixed on the mesmerizing dance of your engorged clit peeking out from beneath its hood, begging for attention. he obeys, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly with the tip of his tongue, making sure to catch every drop of your ambrosia.

his hands roam higher to fondle your breasts at the sounds of your praise and moans. "ohhh f-fuuuckkk! yes, just like that!" your shameless moans fill the room as he feasts on your sopping cunt. you writhe against the mattress, grinding your dripping core against his eager mouth. "don't stop, mmmnnn!" you cry out wantonly, throwing your head back in ecstasy. your hand's fist in his hair, holding him tight against you.

your thighs quake around his ears as his tongue works you over, stoking the fires burning in your loins higher and higher. "oh god, yessss!! right fucking there! ahn…!" the intense waves crash over you, threatening to drown you whole. he doesn't let up though, fucking your convulsing channel with long, hard laps of his tongue as your cunt clamps down around him, milking him for everything he has.

before you've even begun coming down, he surges forward and crashes his mouth to yours in a passionate, sloppy kiss. his whiskered cheek slides along yours as his musky scent invades your senses – equal parts salty-sweet from his kiss – bringing back up essence and uniquely man. the mingling scents and flavours of both of you mingle into one delicious medley you'd burn for.

still kissing you fiercely, he rolls your sensitive nubs. he pulls back from the kiss and you can clearly see how he smirks up at you with a wicked glint in his eyes, still savouring your shared flavour on his tongue. you gasp as he pulls back, his saliva mixing with your juices as he gazes hungrily down at your flushed face.

he glances down at your dishevelled appearance, noting the pearly essence dripping down your chin and neck. slowly, teasingly, he traces a finger through your sticky mess, collecting your release before bringing it to his lips. you whimper as he swirls his tongue around the digit, cleaning off the intimate proof of your mutual satisfaction.

without warning, he grips your hips and spins you around, pushing you face-first against the dirtied sheets. your legs wobble slightly from the aftershocks still rippling through you, but he holds you steady with one large hand resting between your shoulder blades.

his hard, heavy cock springs free from its confines, thick and veiny, already drooling with pre-cum. the head smears against your soaked entrance as he kicks your feet further apart. he groans, grinding the leaking tip along your slippery entrance. he teases the tip along your wet slit, coating himself in your slick arousal.

slowly, oh so slowly, he sinks into your welcoming heat, groaning low in his chest as your velvety walls stretch and accommodate his impressive girth. "fuck…” he begins with a shallow thrust, letting you feel every ridge and vein dragging against your fluttering walls, drawing a loud and erotic moan from you. 

once he bottoms out, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. then he starts to move again, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with a lewd squelch. he sets a deliberate pace, taking you slow and deep, relishing the way your cunt squeezes around his length. each thrust rocks you forward, his heavy balls slapping obscenely against your sensitive clit.

you’re pinned firmly against the bed as he fucks you, his hips pumping at a steady, torturous pace. the wet glide of your slick walls hugging his aching cock sends shivers racing up his spine.

"mmmph, unghh… you’re so tight—" kaveh groans quietly against your shoulder, hot breath puffing against your overheated skin. his hands skim lower to grip your full, rounded ass cheeks possessively, rolling the globes in his palm and kneading the flesh. he drives into you harder then, forcing the breath from your lungs with each powerful snap of his hips.

he slams into you harder and faster, his hips pistoning erratically as he chases his pleasure. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes loudly in the bathroom, interspersed with your shameless moans.

"uunf! nngghh…!" he moans and whimpers are broken, lost in the feral rut. he bites down on your shoulder, leaving a vivid mark on your flawless skin as he continues to pound into you like a man possessed.

sweat beads on his brow and he grips your hips so hard bruises form, grinding you down onto his shaft as he rails you relentlessly. “f–fuck! cum for me…!” he demands breathlessly after hearing your moans grow erratic as he nears his peak.

suddenly, his entire body goes taut as a bowstring. with a guttural groan, he slams into you one last time and explodes, flooding your spasming walls with jet after jet. he pulls out of you abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. before you can protest, he flips you over onto your back and settles his weight on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head.

he’s breathless, his chest heaving up and down almost in sync with yours, his eyes trailed around your clit, drinking in the sight of your naked body splayed out.

at that moment, alhaitham places his hand over kaveh’s chest, successfully moving the tired man out of his way, kaveh whines but slumps down beside you, lazily groping your breasts.

alhaitham hooks his hands under your thighs and pushes them back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half and exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze before trailing a single finger through your slick folds and circling your swollen clit. at his touch you whined, legs quivering.

“fuck me,” you breathed, adding a small whine to it. he releases your wrists and grips your hips once again, the tip of his girthy cock nudging insistently at your entrance. with one swift thrust, he sheathes himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his pulsing length. he lets you adjust for only a moment before setting a ruthless pace, pounding into you with animalistic abandon. the sounds of the obscene slaps of flesh and your increasingly high-pitched moans made it all the more lewd.

the new angle allows him to hit that spot deep inside you with each punishing stroke, sending you into complete bliss. at his command, his powerful hips stutter before finding a new, unhurried rhythm. he continues thrusting slowly yet forcefully, working his massive cock deeper into your clinging heat. “nghhhh..."

the renewed slowness allows him to fully explore the intimate clutch of your pussy as it grips his throbbing length. each languorous slide has his shaft nestling against the fluttering ridges and bumps that line your most sensitive canal. he swivels his hips sinuously, grinding his swollen tip against the hidden spongy spot deep within you with every withdrawal and penetration.

a fresh rush of tingling warmth starts building at the base of his spine as he picks up steam once more, the sensations growing more intense by degrees. your eyes practically roll behind your eyes at the euphoric feeling, your moans bounced along with every thrust of his long cock. “fuccckkk, more.. please..!”

he continues his unhurried, sensual rhythm as the last vestiges of your shared climax fade, your bodies still intimately entwined. his shaft pulses lazily inside you, twitching in time with each roll of his hips. slowly, the intensity ebbs, replaced by languid aftershocks wracking your frames.

you both shared your breaths, sweat, juices and cum all mixed together everywhere, on both your skin and the bed, he leans down your face, pressing feather-light kisses along your sweat-dampened collarbone. “you like that?” he groans into your ear as he grips your hips tightly, his claws digging into your soft flesh as he pounds into you relentlessly.

the wet slapping sounds of skin on skin fill the room, punctuated by his guttural grunts and your high-pitched moans."fuck yes, take it all…" he snarls, his voice dripping with lust and dominance."your tight little cunt was made for my cock, wasn't it? tell me how much you love being used like the cum dump you are" alhaitham’s pace becomes even more frenzied, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his release.

he reaches around to roughly grope your breasts, ignoring the whines and complaints from kaveh, pinching and twisting your nipples as he continues to pound into you. "gonna fill you up...breed this hungry pussy...mark you as mine," he growls, his words becoming more disjointed as pleasure overwhelms him.

with a forceful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Leaning in close, his hot breath fans across your ear as he begins to move, setting a punishing pace. his voice is low and husky as he whispers, "you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, such a tight little pussy, gripping me like you never want to let go. you're mine to use, to fuck, to fill. i'm going to ruin you for anyone else." his hips snap against yours relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. he continues his filthy litany in your ear, punctuating each thrust with a growled word. "take. it. all."

your cries of pleasure echo through the room, the thrusts were too aggressive, too harsh, too much. but you liked it. kaveh slides in behind you, nestling his thick shaft between your ass cheeks. he grinds against you teasingly while alhaitham continues to relentlessly pound your pussy from the front. kaveh’s hands roam over your body, pinching your nipples and trailing down to circle your clit.

"such a greedy little girl," he growls in your ear. "two cocks and you still want more? let's see how much you can really take."With that, he lines himself up with your puckered rear entrance and slowly pushes inside, stretching you deliciously as he fills you completely. you're now stuffed full of cock from both ends, caught between two muscular bodies using you for their pleasure. the sensations are overwhelming as they begin to move in tandem, fucking you relentlessly.

alhaitham’s relentless pounding from the front shows no signs of letting up, his powerful thrusts driving you wild with pleasure. meanwhile, kaveh behind you moves at a much more languid pace, savoring every inch of your stretched hole as he lazily pushes in and out. "Mmm, so tight...like a warm velvet glove around my cock," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbles on your lobe.

your moans grow louder and more wanton as these contrasting sensations overwhelm your senses. you can feel alhaitham shaft throbbing inside you, hitting all the right spots with each forceful stroke. behind him, kaveh’s slow drag provokes electric tingles that make you clench reflexively around both cocks. "ohhh fuck yes! just like that!" you cry out desperately. The dual penetration is too much to bear for long.

“‘s—s too much!” tears welled up in your eyes at both the pleasure and pain of both their cocks in you, you were getting overstimulated, it hurt so good. “s—slow down! ah…!” alhaitham’s thrusts slow slightly at your desperate plea, but he still manages to hit all the right spots inside you. he leans down to capture a tear rolling down your cheek with his tongue, savoring the salty taste. "shh, it's okay baby...i know i'm being rough. but you're so fucking perfect like this," he murmurs against your skin as he continues to move within you at a slightly more measured pace.

kaveh behind slows his movements as well, allowing you a moment of respite before picking up again in time with alhaitham’s renewed rhythm. the sensations are almost too much to bear now—the deep stretch and drag from behind contrasting beautifully with the relentless pounding in front. "nnngh...so good..." you whimper, overwhelmed by pleasure and emotion.

as your climax hits, your inner walls clench and ripple around both alhaitham and kaveh still-throbbing shaft. the sensation pushes them over the edge as well. " fuck yes! cumming so deep inside you...!" with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt and unloads, his hot seed flooding your spasming pussy in long spurts. kaveh soon  follows suit moments later, grinding against your ass as he fills you with his own release. his warm cum coats your insides along with alhaitham’s, creating an intimate mix of their essences within you.

alhaitham carefully eases out of your still quivering heat, watching transfixed as his release slowly leaks out to trickle between your thighs. he scoops up some of the creamy fluid and brings it to his lips, humming appreciatively at the taste.

“ah.. alhaitham give me—give me a moment—” you breathed, trying to catch your breath after the intense session. “but i need to clean up your mess, look how dirty you are” he chuckled. He can clearly see how your eyes widen at your words, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. he takes in your thoroughly debauched appearance with hungry, satisfied eyes before nodding.

slowly, he lowers himself off you onto his hands and knees behind you as he reaches beneath you to run two large fingers through the mess of slickness leaking from your freshly-fucked hole. lapping his fingers clean with kittenish swipes of his tongue, he gives your sensitive bud one final teasing flick that has you bucking back into the bed. crawling onto the mattress with cat-like grace, he positions the swollen head of his shaft at your fluttering opening.

alhaitham grins mischievously as he teases your slick entrance with the tip of his cock, spreading your juices around in a tantalizing display. his eyes gleam with dark hunger as he watches you squirm beneath him. "mmm, look at that...my cum leaking out of your greedy hole already. you can't get enough, can you?" he chuckles lowly and slowly pushes forward, sinking into you once more.

“i—i don’t think i can take another round…” you breathed, face flushed with sweat slicken strands of hair stuck on your forehead.

“this is just the beginning," he purrs, resuming his sensual rhythm as he claims you again. alhaitham’s hips undulate against yours in a slow dance of pleasure, each deliberate thrust sending ripples through your connected bodies. "i’m going to fuck this pussy all night long until it's raw and sore from my cock."

kaveh stretches out beside you on the bed, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he watches alhaitham work your pussy over once more. he reaches out to lazily stroke your sweat-dampened skin, tracing patterns along your curves. "you two enjoy each other so much," he muses, his voice low and content. "i think i'll just lie here and watch...for now." He settles in comfortably, propping himself up on one elbow to continue admiring the erotic display before him.

alhaitham seems perfectly happy with this arrangement, continuing his slow but thorough fucking of your willing body. His thrusts grow slightly more urgent as he feels kaveh’s gaze upon them, driving him to make the most of their moment together.

his eyes flash with a predatory gleam as he hears your soft whimpers, his cock twitching within you in anticipation. "mmm, i’ve craved this moment for so long," he growls, his voice low and husky with desire.

"you don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to be in this pussy...every inch of that luscious body. and i'm going to take my time savoring each delicious moment." he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he continues to move inside you at a slow, deliberate pace.

“i'll fuck you until dawn breaks," he promises against your lips, "and even then maybe not be done exploring every sweet spot on this perfect pussy." his hands roam over your curves possessively as he speaks, mapping the terrain of your skin like an explorer claiming new lands.

“all night long…”

—

a few weeks later, the sun shone through the curtains of your cozy shared apartment, its golden rays highlighting the organized chaos within. a half-finished bookshelf project leaned against the wall (kaveh’s idea, naturally), while alhaitham’s books were scattered across the coffee table in a way that made your neat-freak self twitch. it was a scene of domestic tranquility, punctuated by the occasional bickering that had somehow become oddly endearing.

kaveh was in the kitchen, attempting to cook breakfast—a noble endeavor that would inevitably end with alhaitham stepping in to prevent the fire alarm from going off. you sat cross-legged on the couch, watching the spectacle unfold with a mug of tea in your hands.

“this doesn’t need your interference, alhaitham!” kaveh snapped, waving a spatula threateningly as alhaitham leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression as unimpressed as ever.

“i’m merely ensuring we don’t end up eating charcoal,” alhaitham replied coolly, reaching over to adjust the stove’s temperature.

“can you two not start world war three before i’ve had breakfast?” you asked, trying to suppress your laughter.

they both turned to you at the same time, as if suddenly realizing you were watching them with that fond look you couldn’t quite hide.

“we’re not fighting,” kaveh said quickly, though his defensive tone was softened by his sheepish grin.

“it’s just a discussion,” alhaitham added, though the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed him.

you set your mug down and walked over, slipping yourself between them. “whether it’s fighting or discussing, i’m calling a truce. we’re all having breakfast together, and no one’s allowed to sabotage it.”

kaveh gave you a mock salute, while alhaitham raised an eyebrow but gave a slight nod of agreement.

later, the three of you sat around the dining table, sharing a surprisingly decent meal that kaveh had insisted on plating himself.

“this is nice,” you said, glancing between them with a contented smile.

alhaitham looked at you from over his book, which he’d brought to the table despite kaveh’s protests. “i suppose it is.”

“you suppose?” kaveh scoffed, though there was no real heat in his voice.

you laughed, leaning back in your chair as a warm sense of belonging settled over you. it wasn’t perfect—there were still arguments, quirks, and a lot to figure out—but it was yours.

and as kaveh started another impassioned rant about alhaitham’s lack of appreciation for the “art” of cooking, you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

note: wowie this is the first time i've written quite a long smutty fanfic ever, what an experience.

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me (i don't want to be embarrassed)

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） KINDA HOPE THEY CATCH US.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀you and your colleague share a heated moment.

( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ୨୧ f .. r 1OOO. fluff secret relationship ── flirting kissing skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i can’t change themes without dropping a work huhu enjoy, mwahmwah 🎀

there has never been a bigger sigh of relief than the one you let out of your chest a few millisecond prior. 

the feeling of your entire body relaxing, your fingers leaving the keyboard, the sound of its touch finally stopping and your back finally hitting the back chair, there is nothing greater. 

your hands’ muscles hurt from tapping for over an hour and the black your eyelids provide to your eyes relaxes them after a while not leaving the bright screen. you join both of your hands and stretch your arms all the way to the ceiling— it does so good to your back, you let out a soft groan. 

when you finally open your eyes, they are facing the ceiling just like your palms. you put your arms down and do the same with your gaze.

and a heart attack almost causes your end when you see your coworker, sitting on the desk right in front of you, looking at you. 

he smiles when you finally pay attention to him, as if he has been waiting for this for a while. to be fair, you haven’t been paying attention to anyone for three hours. too occupied with your documents.

his glasses slide down his nose in the slightest and with the way his face was originally facing the paper on his table, he is looking up at you with a well too deep look for your liking. 

“what?” you mouth, going for annoyed but the more he looks at you, the more a small grin draws itself on your face. 

he shrugs as he mouths a back a less than convincing, “nothing” with a smirk that says all the contrary. 

you are the one to look away first, going back to your godforsaken document that you have been filling since the beginning of time. you send it to the printer and, before pushing on your heels and getting up, shoot a look to your coworker (that is totally not an invitation to follow you!).

the sound of your heels against the floor resonate in the entirety of the hall. there are other steps that are not yours coming fast behind you after a while. they are fewer yet getting closer, like the person is much taller than you.

you can feel the presence of the individual behind you right after you walk past the tiny room with all the household products. and before you can get too far from it, a strong hand holds your forearm and pulls you in.

a yelp leaves your mouth when your back hits the door and before you can say anything a hot mouth finds yours. 

you can’t help but smile and sigh as you slide your palms on his neck, “sungoon,” before kissing him back. 

he slides one of his arms around your waist, making you have no contact with the door, as he hums against your mouth. he steadies himself with his free hand planted on the wooden exit. 

you think you shouldn’t let a man drag you wherever he wants like that, you also think his glasses are about to crack if he doesn’t take them off. but you would let sunghoon drag you anywhere he wants and the kiss is too good to act on the last thought. 

“i’ve been,” he says between two kisses, your hand sliding in his hair. “thinking about you,” he continues, leaving your lips to trail kisses on your jaw, “all day long.”

he is all over your mouth again before you can even respond to that declaration that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. his teeth sink gently on your bottom lips, asking you to open your mouth for him. 

it is like your legs evaporate when he slides his tongue inside your in between your lips. he explores, licks everything in it and electricity runs all over your body when both of your tongues connect. 

his huge hand on your lower back presses you impossibly closer to him. your fingers grip his hair and the man only smiles as he tilts his head to the side, to get his tongue further into your mouth. 

kissing sunghoon at work must be the best feeling ever. the adrenaline the thought of getting caught creates in your being is amazing. his lips against yours is like a drug that soothes and energizes you at the same time. 

alas, today is way too busy to mess around like that. 

it takes about ninety percent of the strength in your body to break the kiss by turning your head to the side. the fact that sunghoon is completely unbothered and focuses on your neck with no shame and no less fervor doesn’t help. 

“someone is going to catch us,” you whisper to him, still smiling at the hot contact of his mouth on your skin. 

you should know by now that this is the last thing he cares about, “i hope they catch us,” he responds against you. 

you bite down your lip while he keeps leaving pecks on your jaw, down to your neck. one of his hands slowly comes to your buttoned shirt’s first button: you immediately push him away. 

“no,” you firmly state, with an accusatory finger that doesn’t go well with your huge grin. 

he holds his hands in surrender, the same grin mirroring on his face. his hair is messy, his glasses aren’t in a straight line and there is lipstick all over his mouth. the last ten percent of your strength is put in not kissing him again.

“no more kisses for me?” he asks as he steps one step closer to you, too close.

he is overing you again. he smells like fresh coffee mixed to his cologne. his badge hangs around his neck like a necklace, following the line of his black tie.

you push him away— again— before you can even think of wrapping your fingers around this tie and pull him in another mouth to mouth, “no.” 

then you leave the small room. the fresh air hitting your lungs as soon as you step outside of it. sunghoon has the capacity of taking your capacity to breathe normally away. 

with a hand on your fast-beating heart, you walk toward the printer to take your papers, “we are not done,” you hear his voice loud, you stop in your tracks and take advantage of the fact he doesn’t see you to smile. when you start to move again he adds : “you’ll see tonight!”

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