#SOMETIMES BOTTOMING IS TOO MUCH OF A PRODUCTION
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Annoyed Series
San
Pairing- San x Named Reader
Word count- 1.4k
Includes- Everything is consensual, established relationship, slight hand job, rough blow job, deep throating, face fucking, taunting, throat bulge, cum swallowing, alludes to pussy eating, slight fluff
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @amyz78 @marvelfamily3000 @bykeynote
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"Come over here and get on your knees", I snap, pointing to the spot in front of my computer chair
She looks down as she comes over and goes on her knees in front of me
She knows she's in trouble
All I wanted was for her to cuddle me while we watched a movie with the guys
Instead she whined about how clingy I was and called me a baby for wanting her to hold me
Yeah I know I can be overbearing and clingy sometimes but she didn't have to say that shit in front of the guys
Who laughed at me
When I glared at her, leaned forward and asked her "What did you say?", she knew she was fucked
I stood up and started for my room, knowing she'd follow
She tried to apologize when we got to my room but I stopped that shit right away
I don't want to hear apologies right now
"You want to have such a smart fucking mouth, how about you use it in a productive way?", I snap
She swallows, nodding
"You know what to do"
Her hands reach up, fingers going in my sweatpants and boxers, pulling them down, freeing my cock
I lift my ass off the chair so she can pull my pants all the way down
"Get me hard"
Her hand wraps around my semi hard length, stroking up and down
A hum of pleasure spreads through me, my cock becoming harder with each jerk
She spreads the cum at my head, her hand moving faster, twisting as she does, feeling so good
"Suck on my head"
Her pretty mouth wraps around my head, her tongue lavishing licks right before she sucks softly, her hand still moving
"Fuck", I groan, tilting my head back, "Take more"
Her mouth opens wider, pushing down on my dick, her tongue on my underside as her sucking gets faster
"Good girl", I praise her as the pleasure increases
One thing about my naekkeo, she's good at sucking cock
It shocked me when she told me it's one of her favorite things to do to me
And I get all the blow jobs I want
She looks at me as she blows me and I point down
She understands and sinks her mouth lower, my head poking into her throat
She chokes, making me smirk
I love hearing her choke and gag and she likes it too
She knows that if it's too much she can just get off my dick, I won't stop her
I have a big dick that's on the thicker side and I don't want to hurt her
I never want to hurt her
"More", I snap, pushing her hand off me, "Take it all"
She slowly moves, and I watch my cock disappear into her mouth
Her throat open for my length and it feels phenomenal, her eyes flooding with tears
She bottoms me out, holding herself on my cock, her throat spasming around me
"That's it", I murmur, holding the back of her head, "Now bob"
She slides up until she's almost off my cock, then I shove her back down, fucking right into her throat
She gags, spit flying everywhere
Letting go, she slides back up and I shove her back down, bottoming out in one move
We move this way, me pushing her back down, taking my cock deep in her throat
She grips my thighs hard, her choking sounds so fucking beautiful, her eyes pouring tears
"Now you're putting that mouth to good use", I snap, loving the sight of her head moving up and down, the bliss so intense
She moans around my cock, the vibrations running up my spine, making a tingly feeling in my body I enjoy
"You have the fucking nerve to call me a baby and clinging when I just want to be near you, now you can choke on cock", I snarl, shoving her down and holding her there, "Choke right now"
She does, her throat spasming around me, her nails digging into my skin as her eyes squeeze shut
She breathes in through her nose, trying to get her throat to settle but it's not working
I pull her head up, letting her breath for a few seconds
She looks up at me with her watery eyes but I just scoff, "Again"
Driving her head down, I enter her throat fully, making her choke on my cock again
I do this a few times, the sight and sound of her gags such a turn on
Deciding she needs a small break, I pull her off my dick, globs of spit everywhere, some connecting my cock to her mouth
It's so hot
"Lick my cock", I demand
She leans forward, her tongue running up my length slowly, my body trembling from the pleasure
She licks all the way to my head, flicking the underside then moves back down licking up again and again, pressing kisses and sucks against my dick as her tongue moves
"Taste", I tell her
She nods, her tongue lapping at my slit, licking up my leaking cum
"Good?"
Her drenched eyes find mine, nodding, her tongue flicking over and over
"Want my cum?"
"Yes", she croaks
I nod, "Open and go down halfway. I'm gonna fuck your throat"
She nods, doing exactly as I instructed
"Good, now keep that fucking mouth open"
Holding her head in place, I thrust my hips up, burying my cock in her throat, bliss taking over
"All I wanted was to give you affection", I grunt, fucking into her throat with each word, listening to the wet sound of her throat along my cock, "I just wanted some affection and you were being so mean about it"
Leaning forward, I move my free hand against her throat, feeling it bulge with each thrust of my cock
Fuck, I love that
"Making fun of me in front of the guys. Not very nice"
Tears are cascading down her face like a waterfall as she takes the throat pummeling I'm giving her, her eyes apologizing to me
"I know you're sorry naekkeo", I tell her, "But you shouldn't have done it in the first place"
I drive my cock into her throat, each stroke getting me closer to snapping
"You're gonna be a good fucking girl and swallow all the cum I give you. Got it"
She moans, nodding, her mouth watering around my dick
I shove up, burying down her throat, ecstasy blinding me as I cry out, my entire body shaking, my cum spurting
She swallows on my coming dick over and over, the tightness of it so overwhelming but so fucking amazing
I can't think, I can only feel
My hand loosens in her hair as I finish but to my surprise her mouth starts sucking desperately
Overstimulation hits me, slight pain mixed with pleasure but it feels so fucking good, I don't want her to stop
I watch her suck my dick desperately, feeling myself getting harder and harder in her throat
After a few minutes, I'm fully hard again, in awe that she actually got me hard after an orgasm
Normally I need like ten to fifteen minutes but this was more like five
She's amazing
I stop her, pulling her off my dick and she sits back on her heels, looking up at me with those perfect eyes, breathing hard, her face a mess of tears, spit and cum
"Have you learned your lesson?", I ask her
She nods, biting her lip
"Are you gonna fuck with me again?"
She shakes her head, croaking, "No Sannie"
"Good girl", I tell her, reaching to my desk and getting the bottle of water I left there last night
I give it to her, "Drink naekkeo"
She takes it and downs the whole bottle
"Did I hurt you?", I ask worried
She shakes her head, "No Sannie"
I nod, relieved, "I think you deserve to cum now"
She nods, excitement in her eyes, "Yes Sannie"
"Get undressed then lay on the bed with your legs open", I tell her, "I'm gonna eat your pretty pussy, then after you cum, I'm gonna fuck you and you'll cum on my cock"
Her eyes widen and she nods, immediately standing up
I watch her strip for me, then get on my bed, her legs open
Standing, I pull my shirt off, then go to her, leaning over her
"I love you naekkeo"
"I love you Sannie"
Bending down, I kiss her, pouring all my love into it with her kisses me back the same way
Then I kneel on the floor, keep her legs open and bury my tongue in her sweet pussy
#choi san fanfic#ateez san fanfic#san fanfic#choi san smut#ateez san smut#san smut#ateez fanfic#ateez smut
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Iconic. Beautiful. No notes.
A chapter that legitimately prepares you for a healthy relationship for once. Cuz sometimes adults have plans that fall through and it is enough to just spend time together.
Hiroki knows he's got a real one.
#Hiroki is the only character who sucks dick a reasonable amount of times in this manga#Realistically they should all be at it as much as he does#The lack of 69ing is also a glaring issue#SOMETIMES BOTTOMING IS TOO MUCH OF A PRODUCTION#Sorry I'm saying too much#junjou egoist#junjou romantica#nowaki kusama#hiroki kamijou
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piano lessons - cl16
Pairing: charles leclerc x femstudent!reader
Summary: in which the tension between you and your music teacher finally breaks
Warnings: smut, oral (f-receiving), 18+, not proofread, bad French!
Word Count: 1474
Author's Note: idk I really just felt the need to write this. please correct my french if you can
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
EVER SINCE YOU were a little girl and your parents placed you into piano lessons, you knew you were destined to play and write music. It became your sanctuary, a place to escape from the demands of reality and a medium through which you could mold reality into art. Now, it propels you into a university music course, where your path intertwines with that of one of the most attractive professors you’ve ever encountered. Scratch that, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever encountered.
You weren’t oblivious to his stares. The way his green eyes sometimes lingered on you much too long as he spoke in front of the class. Today, for instance, his gaze seemed fixated on the end of your short skirt, where your fingers fumbled with the fabric. He tended to single you out frequently, using you as a shining example to illustrate correct procedures for everyone. His praise for your efforts seemed never-ending. It would send you leaving the class all blushed and flustered constantly.
You weren’t completely innocent either though, and it didn’t help that he was so fucking hot. His hair perpetually tousled from running his hands through it, and the veins in his fingers pronounced whenever he played the piano. You found yourself often fixating on his hands, imagining what they might feel like on your body. It was a tantalizing thought, wondering if he could play you as skillfully as he played the piano.
His hands were artwork in themselves.
At times, you sensed the mutual attraction, a subtle dance of connection that left you questioning whether it was real or a product of your imagination. Doubts lingered until today, when Adam, the person seated beside you, relentlessly pressed to take you out. His persistent advances bothering not just you, but apparently your professor as well.
“Adam, Je te suggère de te concentrer sur ton devoir.” I suggest you focus on your assignment. Towards the end of class, it appeared that your teacher had reached a point of exasperation. “Elle ne te veur pas.” She doesn’t want you. “Arrête de perturber tout le monde.” Stop disrupting everyone. You could sense the annoyance in his tone and the way his body tensed when Adam first asked you out.
What he really meant was:
You don’t deserve her
You couldn’t give her an ounce of what she really needs
Stop pissing me off
The class responded with snickers, accompanied by a round of “Oooo burn” echoing throughout the room. You felt your cheeks turn red of embarrassment for yourself but more so for Adam.
“C’est assez aujourd’hui!” That’s enough for today! He dismissed the class. “Profitez bien du week-end!” Enjoy the weekend!
While the other students hurriedly exited the classroom, you hesitated, lingering behind. Restlessly tapping your foot, you watched as your music teacher casually leaned against the desk. His arms, robust and defined, stretched the seams of his t-shirt sleeves as he folded them across his chest, fixing you with a curious gaze.
“Est-ce que je peux vous aider?” Can I help you? His lips tugged up into a sheepish smile.
You felt yourself fidget with the bottom of your skirt as your eyes met with his. “Oui, besoin d’aide avec ma chanson Mr. Leclerc,” Yes, I need help with my song. “Je n’arrive pas à trouver la fin correcte.” I can’t get the ending right.
It wasn’t a complete lie. You genuinely needed help with your ongoing composition. Each conclusion you attempted just didn’t carry the sense of completeness you were aiming for. But you also just wanted to be around him more.
“Joue pour moi.” Play for me. As he extended his arm, gesturing towards the piano, you couldn’t resist the pull, finding yourself moving towards the piano and taking a seat. His attentive eyes tracking your every movement stirred a nervous excitement within you, simultaneously igniting a passionate fire. The shared moment at the piano became more than help; it became a dance of anticipation and unspoken connection.
He found himself utterly captivated by you – the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth in intense focus, the moments when you lost yourself to the music. The cascade of your hair falling behind you revealed the delicate curve of your neck. He wanted to ravish you.
As you were engrossed in playing your song, you felt him slowly edging closer until he was standing directly behind you. The sensation of his front against your back sent goosebumps racing across your exposed skin. The contact led to one of your fingers slipping, hitting an incorrect key.
You couldn’t see, but a smirk played on his lips as he noticed the small mistake. It was subtle and almost imperceptible. Yet, the knowledge that he, someone aware of your exceptional talent on the piano, induced even a minor slip, fueled his ego.
You were aware he had heard the mistake, but he didn’t interrupt you. Consequently, you carried on playing, immersed in the fragrance of his cologne, losing yourself in the music until you struck the very last note. The moment your fingers left the keys, you slid off the piano bench and directed your gaze towards him. You leaned against the side of the piano, your elbow propped up on it.
“Tu es magnifique,” You’re magnificent. The words alone caused a visceral reaction in your stomach, a tightening with need. You couldn’t pinpoint when or how he had gotten so close to you again, but in that moment, you didn’t care.
In that moment, you forgot that you even needed help with the song. All you could do is stare at his eyes, noticing how they would occasionally drop to glance at your lips.
“Oh merde, embrasse-moi, s’il te plait,” Oh shit, please kiss me. You whispered it so softly, it was barely audible. You didn’t care if you put yourself out on a limb. The constant back and forth had worn you out; it felt like an endless game of cat and mouse.
You could barely finish your sentence as his lips crashed down on yours and his tongue slipped inside of your mouth. He was gentle, but also demanding with it. Your fingers graze his hair, something you have always wanted to do, pulling him closer as his hands find a place on your hips, lifting you onto the piano.
The fingers of his right-hand sneak under the hem of your skirt, his fingers fumbling with the same spot of the skirt yours did moments ago.
“Puis-je?” Can I? You eagerly nodded, allowing him to push your skirt up and pull your underwear to the side. He paused for a moment, just staring at your heated center. His eyes darkening in hunger at the sight of you.
“Merde,” Shit. He groaned. Literally groaned at the sight of your bare pussy on display for him. You were already wet before he placed the pad of his thumb directly onto your clit, rubbing tiny circles before he brought his lips to you.
“Je rêve de ça constamment,” I dream about this constantly. He moaned into your pussy, the vibration and confession pushing a needy cry from your mouth.
He wrapped his lips around your clit, immediately moaning at the taste of you. You let out a sharp cry as your back arched in response to the suction on your clit. One hand held your body up-right while the other fisted his hair in a tight grip.
He lifted his head for a mere second just to look at you, locking his eyes with you as he pushed two fingers into your heated center. His eyes were dark, and his lips were so glossy, coated with you. You almost came at the sight of him right there.
You were moaning so loud as he curled his fingers, rubbing the spot you ached the most just right. “Tu es tellement putain de belle,” You’re so fucking pretty. He moaned before bringing his lips down you your center and pressing kitten licks to your clit. His fingers still pumping in and out of you rapidly.
It was too much. His fingers, the kitten licks, and the pressure of his nose on you was becoming overwhelming.
“Please don’t stop sir,” you moaned repeatedly. Your legs wrapped tightly over his shoulder, suffocating him into your pussy. “Ça fait tellement du bien.” Feels so good.
You came unexpectedly with a loud cry, your thighs squeezed tightly against his head as he didn’t let up on the assault of your pussy. He took every drop of your orgasm like it was his source of oxygen.
Your body fell limp on top of the piano as Charles placed gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs.
“Puis-je le refaire?” Can I do it again? “Tu as un gout délicieux.” You taste so good.
Yes. Yes you can do it again.
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#f1 imagines#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#charles leclerc
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You take care of their hair
You x One Peice Characters
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Luffy, Buggy, Mihawk, Sanji, Zoro, Usopp
Buggy
Buggy hair is long and truthfully very beautiful. He takes pride in it secretly even if he doesn't let anyone know- When you get there and start taking care of his hair it flourishes.
"You have such pretty hair!" Yoj gush as you moisturize the long blue locks
"SHUT UP!"
He is like a l'oreal model at this point and will step out to do shows with his hair down sometimes. Loves it when you wash his hair too and will make cute noises when you scratch his scalp. Enjoys the nice scents you add to his hair as well.
"Oi- I like the Candy Apple scent more-"
Sanji
Oh Sanji is a sap for this, Taking your willingness to care for his hair as a show of love- however that's for you to decide if it is.
"If this is how we say we love each other I gladly accept~"
His hair can be a bit tricky, It's a lot thicker then most would assume and can hold scents of whatever he was cooking. Paired with the fact his hair will be lighter on top compared to the bottom due to the sun bleaching it. However he does love it and finds cleanliness important.
"Vanilla please my love~"
Luffy
He is a struggle- Getty Luffy lanky ass in the bath is a pain in the ass and washing his hair is even more troubling. His wide curls like just act as a magnet for everything it seems and you have to go picking through it.
"Is this a damn cookie?!"
Once you get his hair to be a untangled it's really pretty. Dark shiny curls that reflect the sunlight like a halo. While he still fussed he's more willing as time goes. Will randomly talk about whatever comes to mind, or eat snacks as you comb through his hair.
"I like the Ocean Breeze soap more (Y/N)"
Zoro
Oh Zoro- He tries to dodge you every chance he gets. It takes you catching him when he was hiding in the storage closet and ended up falling asleep.
"You smell like a barn- Move you ass..." You will threaten. Making him grumbled but comply non the less.
He's just as bad as Luffy but will just sit and pout as you wash his hair. Luckily it's short but it can get very oily- especially with how much he trains. You will also help him trim his hair, keeping it as even as possible. While he doesn't say it, he does appreciate the care. Will fall asleep as you do his hair.
"Mint- Mint is fine..."
Usopp
While you do wash his locs for him most of your time is spent separating and retwisting them. Buying good oils for his hair and spending a least and few solid hours retwisting the new growth on his hair.
"How does your hair grow so fast?!"
You question as you sort through the locs one by one and every two weeks washing them and reapply products to them. Usopp appreciates the help truthfully, since it takes away something he has to do for himself. He will tell stories as you do his hair, talking about made up adventures and tell jokes.
"Hmm I am tied between the Coconut scent or the Passionfruit both remind me of this amazing adventure I had once-"
He picks both.
Mihawk
Mihawk is used to doing his own hair, smoothing it back to fit under his had with ease. However when your jolly ass appears it seems you must take control of the situation.
He doesn't mind however, enjoying the pampering. Enjoys the sensation of you running your fingers through his hair. His Hair needs some serious moisture so you add a small bit of oil to it, Especially since his hair is surprisingly thick, dense and likes to frizz. It's not surprising to find some fuzzies from his hat in his hair as well.
"Your hair spikes up so much- Like a chicken ass-"
Will grumble in disagreement of the comparison however continues to let you handle his hair, will also take care of his beard and adds nice beard balms as well as line it up for him- If he feels like letting you. Will read while you do it and sip his favorite wine.
"The bergamot scent is very nice-
#x reader#one piece imagine#one peice live action#one peice x reader#one piece zoro#one piece sanji#one piece luffy#one piece usopp#dracule mihawk#zoro roronoa x reader#sanji x reader#usopp x reader#luffy x reader#buggy the clown x reader#buggy the clown#one piece mihawk#hawkeye mihawk#mihawk x reader
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Simmer #2
CH.2 Ice Box | The Menu
[4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
The first week at Jim’s went somewhat smoothly.
You figured out a bus that would take you out of town and to the diner when it was raining or too dark, a rusty old thing that rattled the entire journey but it meant you got there a few minutes before your shift started. The summer was still present, a growing thing that became hotter and bigger as June turned to July, the sidewalks baking, the skies an endless blue between storms that you didn’t really mind.
You got to meet the rest of the team that first morning, bumping into a girl as you made your way through the side door meant for staff. Robin was another waitress, a little blunt, really pretty and more than helpful. She took over immediately, waving away your explanation of having to report to Eddie, leading you into a back office that was crammed with a desk and a line of lockers. It took a while for her to find a key to one in a security box but eventually you had a locker, a name badge and a uniform that Robin promised was the cleanest one she could find.
It was a powder blue thing with red trim, a little on the short side for a dress and it had you pulling at the hem until it covered your thighs more. The collar was white, starchy, the apron that tied around your waist matching. Robin grinned when you reappeared with it on, straightening your name badge for you before handing you a new pad and pen.
“C’mon,” she tilted her head towards the kitchen, the smell of coffee and maple already pouring out of it. “I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”
There was Nancy, another waitress who helped Jim manage the diner’s taxes when she wasn’t back at college in Indianapolis. She seemed sweet, a little quieter than Robin, more eager to keep her head down and garner the best tips.
Argyle was the boy you’d seen in the kitchen the day before, a smiling boy with the sleekest hair you’d ever seen. He offered a fist bump and a warm greeting, telling you to let him know of any medicinal preferences that he could help you out with. He was on prep duty in the kitchen and Robin claimed he could chop a full onion in ten seconds when he wasn’t busy eating the product.
Then there was Jonathan. A quiet guy who mostly worked the coffee bar and helped on dish duty when the kitchen was busy. He made a mean latte, you were told, and if he liked you, he’d use his special coffee beans that he kept hidden in the back.
Steve was front of house, mostly waiting tables, sometimes sitting at the rarely used host desk. Handsome and polite, he waved at you from atop a kitchen counter, already chewing on a slice of toast that he ended up sharing with Robin.
Going by the staff schedule that was pinned to a board in the office, there seemed to be more employees you’d yet to meet. A Chrissy Cunningham, Jason Carver and someone called William although it was scored out and had Billy written next to it. There was Dustin too, pencilled in at the bottom as a weekend busboy.
All in all, the staff at Jim’s diner were pretty cool. There was a man you hadn’t met yet, someone called Murray that was supposed to be the kitchen manager but apparently, he preferred a more work from home type of schedule. Then there was Eddie Munson.
Line cook, although in a diner this size, he was pretty much the only cook. Territorial over his kitchen, you’d been warned that the boy tended to keep to himself, liked to communicate in grunts and grumbles, and was usually perpetually moody. He had a lot of opinions over music, over food, over the right spice to use in apple pies. And he didn’t tend to take to new people, much to your dismay. The morning you arrived ready to work, Eddie greeted you with a grunt from behind a coffee cup, dumping your uniform into your arms with a name badge that had “Chicago” written in permanent marker, a sure sign that Jim had forgotten your name.
So the first week went without much talking to Eddie, you keeping to your space between the tables and him keeping to the kitchen. Music blasted through most of the shift, with the boy working with his head down, curls escaping his bun, his apron tied right around his waist. Every now and then, when you came to the hatch to collect plates and orders, you’d hear him hum along to the radio, an upbeat tune that never matched the frown on his face. And if he happened to catch you staring, well, the lines between his brows only deepened.
And despite the sour faced regulars who only grunted and held their cups out when you offered more coffee, working at the diner wasn’t the worst job you’d had. Tips were okay, Jonathan made you a latte every morning you shared a shift and the sizzle of the stoves became a comforting background noise as you pottered around the tables, smiling shyly and taking orders with the utmost concentration.
It was fine, good even. Up until your first run in with Mr Creel.
The older man frequented the diner regularly, coming in early mornings and late nights, leaving whatever job he did to spend hours at a time at the end of the diner bar. He sat under the television screen, a dead eye stare on whatever it was showing, only holding his mug out for coffee refills.
He was particular about being left alone and even more particular about his coffee being black. So when you accidentally topped the caffeine up with creamer, you finally heard the old man’s voice. He yelled something awful, his voice croaky from hardly being used, a raspy, horrible thing as he uttered ugly words.
“Stupid girl,” he hissed, knocking over the cup of coffee until the insides ran along the bar and dripped onto your white sneakers. “Are you dumb? Huh?” The man glared at you as you tried to form words, mouth tripping over an apology you weren’t sure he deserved anymore. “How difficult can this job be?”
Steve came to your aid, brow furrowed and tongue bitten as he held back the things he wanted to say to the customer. But he saw the tears in your eyes, your gaze a little unfocused and glassy, his hand on your elbow as he coaxed you into leaving the situation.
“I got this,” he muttered, a rag in hand, ready to mop up Mr. Creel’s mess as he pointedly ignored the old man’s whispered insults. “Take a breather, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”
You didn’t hesitate, scampering away with coffee sodden sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. You’d have to thank Steve later, the tears were close to falling and you were adamant they wouldn’t escape while you were still on the diner floor. So you barrelled into the kitchen without much thought, not bothering to yell ‘doors’ or ‘corner,’ just desperate to get out of sight. It was a slow morning, a few pancakes on the griddle, some leftover waffle batter in a bowl by the stove, another one full of eggs beside it. Apart from the sounds of food cooking, sizzles, pops, the sound of the radio, it was quiet.
Pushing your back to the tiled wall, you weren’t able to do much to escape the heat that always filled the kitchen. The back of your uniform scratched at your neck, an itchy warmth that stuck to your skin and made the tears come a little easier as Mr. Creel’s words echoed in your head. You knew it wasn’t worth overthinking - everyone had warned you that the man was a perpetual thunder cloud, always gloomy, always looking for an excuse to yell. But still, you blinked one too many times and your glassy eyes spilled over, lashes sticking together with tears as you stuttered over a heaving breath. Your face scrunched, falling with too much emotion and you made a noise akin to a whimper, a wet sounding thing that you could keep in.
You didn’t hear someone come back in from the fire exit, the brief smell of cigarette smoke mingling with the heat and the fiery barbecue scent of lunch hours brisket cooking. Eddie scowled at the sight of you by his station, back to the wall, hip pressed to the stainless steel table. Your head was bowed, the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes and when he turned down the radio - just slightly - he could hear you sniff.
The boy frowned, somewhat uncomfortable, that crinkle that was always between his brows deepening. He used his wrist to sweep the hair out of his eyes and he gestured to the walk-in behind you, even though you couldn’t see. "Uh, normally we cry in the freezer."
You looked up, mortified. Your cheeks were red hot, a burn from the embarrassment of being caught and the frustration from the customer who was surely still at the bar, uncaring of the state he’d put you in.
You sniffed, swiping hastily at your cheeks. "What?"
The boy sighed, an impatient noise that Robin had already told you not to take offence to. He nodded at the freezer again, lowering the heat on whatever it was he was cooking in a comically large pot. "In there. That's where we have our breakdowns."
You stood, aimless, wondering what you were supposed to do with that information. The freezer? Wouldn't Hopper be looking for you?
The boy scrunched his face in annoyance and you thought he was going to return to his recipe, but he turned off the burner and rounded the station. He tilted his chin at you, signalling you to follow. "C'mon, come wi' me," he murmured.
It was the most he’d said to you since the day you’d turned up with your resumes and some hope in your chest. You blinked, watching Eddie stomp down the aisle between the stations, big combat boots a strange congrats to his chef whites. You ran a little to catch up, hip catching the corner of a cart filled with fresh fruit and a bowl of proofed dough, trying not to stumble into the back of the boy. You almost did when he stopped dead and pulled at the door of the giant walk-in, a wall of cold air hitting your both square in the face.
Stacks of frozen food sat on metal shelves, lines of cut meats, boxes of iced over vegetables, already cut and prepped. Eddie waved a hand inside, gesturing for you to enter. Your breath turned visible as the temperature dropped by twenty degrees, ice cold and raising goosebumps on your arms. You half expected Eddie to shut the door and leave you alone, but you were surprised when he walked in after you, the soft thump of the door closing after him.
Silence enveloped you both, the noise of the kitchen, the broken AC, the diner all disappearing. You breathed out a sigh of relief, breath crystallising between you and the boy who was eyeing you warily, wondering if you were going to keep crying. He didn’t say anything, he just leaned against a shelf and tugged a rag from his back pocket, wiping off his hands.
It was easier to breathe without the heat of the diner, the constant steam from the kitchen, the way the sun hit the windows and made the whole place too hot. The boy watched you, still cautious, waiting for your chest to stop heaving and you to stop sniffling. When you did, he peered at you through his bangs.
“Better?”
Still embarrassed, you swiped hastily at your cheeks and tried to pretend you weren’t crying, wiping the evidence of the apron that held your pad and pen- and now splashes from Mr. Creel’s coffee tantrum. “Yeah, m’fine. Thanks.”
The boy nodded, lips pressed together as if he didn’t know what else to say. Neither did you, still hot cheeked and mortified, staring wide eyed at the freezer door and for a brief second, you wondered if the rest of the diner would hear you from behind the thick freezer door if you just so happened to let out a yell. Maybe that’s why Eddie said this was the breakdown space. You guessed you’d find out sooner than you thought.
And just as you were getting ready to push the door back open, Eddie peered up at you from where he was busy inspecting a silver scar on his wrist. “Creel’s a real asshole, don’t let him get to you.”
Surprised, you stopped in your tracks and turned. The leftover tears on your cheeks weren’t quite ice, but they left cold trails across your face that felt too obvious. You pushed against the apple of your cheek once more, fingers digging in a little too meanly as you tried to get rid of the evidence that Eddie already saw. “I know,” you nodded. You sniffed again. “Just— took me by surprise, that’s all.”
Eddie nodded slowly, like he was thinking over your words. “You gotta toughen up, kid.” He swept by you, lemongrass and some cologne that was hidden behind the smell of basil and spice. His shoulder knocked yours. “Told you you wouldn’t last in the kitchen.”
—————
Some would call it stubbornness, others would call it spiteful, but you were more determined than ever to fit in and work hard at the diner. Eddie’s comment made a lasting effect on you and you tried every day to smile through the shit and be a little bolder, leaving the shyness behind with Chicago and every other failed opportunity. Plus, the tips came a little easier if you flashed a smile and some flirt.
You cleaned up the smashed burgers and soggy fries that were smeared into the floor after a family of tourists swept through the restaurant, you wiped down tables, refilled the salt shakers and when you collected orders from Eddie at the kitchen hatch, you made sure to use the towel to pick up the hot plates. The last time you’d suffered a burn, Eddie had rolled his eyes and scoffed. But when you came back for the next order a few minutes later, an ice pack was sitting waiting.
“You okay?” Robin’s side nudged up against yours in greeting at the cutlery station, familiar and friendly.
You smiled, nodding, wrapping napkins around knives and forks. Robin picked up a bundle to help and you could tell by her unsettled fidgeting, she wanted to ask something. “Are you okay?”
The girl made a face and squinted at you, all nervous charm and nervousness. “Yeah, yeah— I’m good. So good. It’s just, uh—”
You blinked, waiting, both of you moving out of the way when Jonathan appeared with a set of headphones over his ears, grinning at you both as he dumped more clean cutlery into the drawers.
“—you know how it was both of us on the late tonight?” Robin continued once Jonathan disappeared. You nodded, still sorting out the utensils, frowning when the freshly cleaned sets burned your fingertips. “Well, I kinda got asked on a date tonight and oh my god, okay, like, I know you’re new but I’ve been waiting on this girl literally forever and—”
It was easy to smile at Robin’s enthusiastic rambling, your shoulders losing the tension they usually held as you listened to her talk. “Who is it?” You asked curiously.
“It’s like, holy shit? She’s interested in me? I mean— oh.” Robin cut herself off after she realised you’d spoken. Her cheeks burned, pink covering her freckles and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed at her own excitement. “Nancy.”
You beamed and nodded, already knowing about the flirting that went on during their shared shifts, the way Robin looked at the other girl, the way Steve rolled his eyes fondly behind his friend's back.
“That’s sweet,” you told the girl, happy for her. “You guys goin’ somewhere nice?”
“Uh, yeah,” Robin smiled, bashful, before she flicked her gaze to you again, nerves kicking back in. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask. Would you mind if I left early?” The girl gestured to the quiet diner, a little more peaceful now the dinner rush was over. “I know I was supposed to stay until close with you, but this show starts at like, nine? So I was just wondering if it’d be okay with you if I—”
You cut the girl off with a hand to her forearm, stopping her nervous gesturing. You smiled again. “Hey, it’s totally okay. I can handle it.”
She grinned, face lighting up with genuine happiness as she squealed and grabbed your arms, pulling you into a crushing hug despite the bundles of cutlery you held to your chest. But her excitement was contagious and you grinned too, happy to have made Robin happy, happier to feel like you had a real friend.
“I owe you!” She gasped, “thank you so much! You’re on with Eddie ‘til close, and maybe Jonathan? It’ll be fine! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She gushed as she pulled off her apron and rushed to the office.
The rest of the time went quietly, as did most of the graveyard shifts. Families and couples left after eight and as the evening headed towards night, the clock approaching twelve, the diner was empty apart from one lone trucker in the corner nursing an extra black coffee and a cinnamon roll. So you headed into the kitchen with the last of the plates, proud of the way you balanced all five of them over your forearms, only wobbling a little. You even remembered to call out as you pushed the door open, even though there wasn’t much happening.
The hustle and bustle had slowed to a lazy stroll, the radio still on but much quieter, another sixties song crooning from the speakers. Eddie was washing down his station, knives sharpened and put away, the stovetop grills seeping in the sink full of bubbles.
“Floors have just been mopped,” he told you without looking up. “Careful.”
You nodded, always startled when he spoke, his voice much softer than he looked. It was honeyed whisky, syrupy smooth. You managed to slide the dishes into an empty sink without much fanfare - nothing spilled, nothing smashed - and you were planning on refilling the ketchup dispenser when your stomach growled, unreasonably loud.
You clamped a hand over it, an awful flush crawling up the back of your neck that you knew too well. Embarrassed, you tried to laugh it off, avoiding Eddie’s gaze when his head shot up. Wide eyed, he appraised you, watching as you gave him a wide berth as you shot for the door. Before you could make a break for it, the cook dropped his cleaning rag and sighed.
“Have you ate?”
You stopped, almost tipping over your own feet as you spun back round to face him. You wondered if you misheard him, if he was maybe talking to someone else in the kitchen you hadn’t noticed but Jonathan was whistling outside of the kitchen hatch, cleaning down the coffee machine and no one else was on shift.
Still, you asked, “what?”
Eddie frowned, like he was upset about repeating himself. But he was already pulling a chopping board out from the racks underneath the workbench. “I said, have you ate? You sound like a dying whale.”
If you weren’t so mortified, you think you would’ve been offended. You hadn’t eaten though, not since you’d managed to shovel a bag of chips into your mouth between a bus load of tourists stopping off for a milkshake and Jim’s famous wings. But you weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to know so you shrugged, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t showing on your face.
The boy just sighed, like he always did, and gestured to a stool that sat across from his station. “Sit,” he ordered gruffly before pulling out half of a baked loaf from earlier. “You like mustard?”
“What’re you doing?” You hadn’t moved, standing shell shocked by the door, your stomach still yelling at you.
Eddie turned to you with that same frown, forever looking annoyed at your presence. Now he was brandishing a butter knife, more curls than ever escaping his bun. He really should wear a hairnet.
“What’s it look like?” He grunted. He pointed at the stool once more. “C’mon. Mustard?”
You walked over slowly, like you were approaching something wild and unpredictable. Maybe you were. The stool squeaked as it scraped across the tiles, and you eyed the boy warily as you pushed yourself onto the chair across from him. “Sure,” you mumbled, watching as he slathered slices of sourdough with mustard and a little mayonnaise.
“You should eat properly.” Eddie scowled. “You don’t eat nothin’, gonna make yourself pass out in this heat.”
You seemed to forget your shyness as you frowned right back. “How would you know?” You demanded.
Eddie scoffed and suddenly you forgot altogether that you and this boy didn’t really talk. He was rolling his eyes at you as he layered on some cheddar cheese and salami, not asking you before he added some prosciutto and lettuce. “Because you scramble in and out of here all day chasin’ your own tail. I watched you inhale that bag of chips earlier like a goddamn raccoon.”
You squirmed not loving the comparison but knowing that he probably wasn’t far off in terms of likeness. But still, your frown matched his. “I don’t scramble,” you murmured.
Eddie scoffed, a breathy, disbelieving thing that made him raise his eyebrows. He was moving around his station with a grace you couldn’t fathom, speedy and gentle with each movement. He drizzled a little honey over the second slice of bread before stacking it on top, an impressive display of flavour in each layer before he sliced it down the middle.
“Oh, yes you do,” Eddie shot back. “Like a squirrel.” He placed the sandwich on a plate Jonathan had already cleaned and pushed it towards you before deciding to add another little pot of honey beside it.
“I thought I was a raccoon?” You asked him before you could help yourself. “Thank you,” you added quickly, looking down at the plate. Your stomach grumbled again, your mouth watered.
Eddie shrugged, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “Either rodent will do,” he told you. “And you’re welcome. Now eat.”
You didn’t argue anymore, tucking into your snack with a shy sort of wariness. You’d hardly spoken to the boy before now and yet here he was, preparing you food. Just a sandwich, but it took more effort than any snack you’d ever made yourself. You took a bite, eyes closing at the flavour and you hummed in appreciation. When you opened them again, Eddie was at the sink, his back to you but you could see from the tilt of his head that showed off how he watched you from the side of his eyes.
“Oh my god—” you cut yourself off, humming again, a delighted little noise that you couldn’t help let out. “This is amazing.”
You ate until Eddie was done cleaning, using your crusts to dip into the honey, mopping up everything off your plate until it was empty, your legs swinging happily from the stool. If you were alone, you would’ve danced. You were sure you saw him fight a smile as he returned to the bench, brows raised at your full cheeks, your happy eyes, the crumbs on his once clean station.
“Squirrel to chipmunk,” he noted, gaze trailing over your face. You swallowed quickly, cheeks heating up once again and you dropped your eye line to the table as you wiped your hands on your apron. “Good?” He asked.
“Delicious,” you told him with a nod. “Thank you. Again. You didn’t have to do that.”
Eddie swung a dish towel over his shoulder and ducked his head, curls falling loose around his face and you watched as he slid his clean equipment back into their rightful place. “Was just a sandwich, no big deal.”
It was just a sandwich. But you’d soon come to realise it was something so much bigger than you’d ever have thought.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb
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solar flares & soft lips
𝆹⭒ re4r!leon kennedy x gn!reader
⏜ ◯𝆹⭒ synopsis — teaching leon how to apply skincare before he leaves for a mission is a domestic setting you both need. when he comes home, he finds he missed it more than he thought.
𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ content — fluff, i wrote this very very sleep deprived, post and pre re4r, no uses of [name], tried a different writing style i think, this is just really soft, leon is a rich man
⏜ ◯𝆹⭒ word count — 1.4k
𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ note — i love leon kennedy so much :( literally so so in love with him. this was so soft i love it
𝆹⭒ masterlist
When Leon first saw you doing your skincare routine, he found it unneccessary. Luxuries, even ones as simple as skincare items, were scarce in his house. Despite him owning a mansion, the inside was bare. It only looked decorated from the outside— A husk.
Leon was on the move most of the time. Settling down was an odd feeling. Adrenaline pricking his skin, waiting for the next time he'd have to move. Especially on missions. He's accustomed to carrying around only what was necessary. He discarded what wasn't, leaving him with few items.
This translated over into his personal life, too. He keeps only what he deems necessary, having very few items that are for his own enjoyment. Sometimes, he'll splurge on a new cologne or a jacket for himself, but it isn't often.
But he doesn't mind spoling you.
Leon has more than he knows what to do with. Anything he sees you looking at, he's not hesitating to buy it. A new skincare set had been a recent buy. He had bought you all new products after you told him yours were running low. You protested at first, but Leon is tenacious.
He sees how excited you are to use it, anyway. He thinks he's more excited to see you excited. Leon's always thought you were cute whenever you show off the new items he bought you. A ghost of a smile curls on his lips as he nods, soaking in every word. Listening to you talk is something he could do all day, every day.
What he doesn't expect is for you to ask to try the new skincare products out on him. He's taken aback, a furrow in his eyebrows. Nude-colored lips part, eyes narrow. "Me?" He asks, as if he didn't hear you right. A roll of your eyes accompanies a brush of blond hair out of his eyes. "Yes, you, silly." You grin up at him.
Leon shakes his head, a huff of a laugh escaping him. "Why not on yourself?" He asks. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, one that he isn't immune to. "I want to see how well they'd work on your skin," You answer. A narrow of your eyes at his smooth flesh has the corner of his lip twitching up in a smile. "Even if it is perfect."
He huffs out another laugh. Perfect skin had always come natural Leon, much to your chagrin. "Alright," He agrees. As if he was ever going to disagree. Your exclamation of a cheer has him rolling his eyes in affection.
You guide him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, pulling out a headband. He quirks a brow, looks between it and you, and sighs. Rejection doesn't come as you thought it would. Slipping the headband over his neck, you tug it to pull his hair back. The sight causes a giggle to spill from your lips. Colbat eyes shoot you a playful glare.
"Is this necessary?" Leon asks, glancing up at the headband and then back towards you. You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips, and nod your head. "Of course it is, Leon," You answer, attempting to keep a serious tone. Your poor attempt at stifling a giggle doesn't go unnoticed by Leon. "Don't wanna get any product in your hair, right?"
He grunts, the only answer you get, before you're opening the moisturizer. You dollop small dots onto his cheeks, his chin, the edge of his nose, and then his forehead. You rub it into his skin, making sure to be gentle. You know Leon could handle rough touches, but you don't want to hurt him. Even if he can take it.
Leon can't deny how calm this feels. The gentle domesticity of it all, of you putting moisturizer on him; the moisturizer he bought you. He leans into your touch, chasing it when you pull away. He stays still, doesn't speak. Instead, he observes.
You've always been gentle. He thinks it's a trait you were born with. Leon can't imagine you as anything but gentle. Even when you're teasing him, playful banter you two shoot back and forth, you're gentle. You never say anything that would set him off. You're careful with what you say, avoiding words you know will upset him.
Born and raised as careful, delicate.
You're the polar opposite of Leon.
He was not brought up delicate. Rough enviorments have been normal to him since childhood. In fact, if his enviorment isn't rocky in some way, he's skeptical. It's one of the reasons he was hesitant to go further with you in your relationship. Scared that it'd be rocky like everything else in his life.
Like you'd leave him as everyone else has.
He's taken out of his thoughts at a cold serum on his face. It drips down his cheek, pursuit cut short as you wipe it with your thumb. You massage the serum into his face, smooth skin easy to maneuver under your hands. A gentle sigh leaves Leon's lips. When you pull away, he's in an almost daze.
"I could get used to this," He muttered. The confession has a grin curling on your lips, a mischevious twinkle in your eyes. "Oh, yeah?" You ask. His slight nod is all the confirmation you need, pressing a thumb against his jaw, gentle. "If you were home more often, we could be doing this every day."
You knew he was busy, though. You didn't know the true nature of his job, much less what he did while he was away. Leon was only allowed to tell you so much. But you took it in stride. Missing Leon had become a feeling you'd grown accustomed to. An ache in your heart soothed by the sight of Leon at your front porch.
Before he left, you were always trying to spend as much time with him as you could. Cleaning with him, cooking, washing the dishes. Any task to get you a little extra time. Each morning before his departure, you cuddle in his arms, get yourself as close as you can. You try to remember his heart beat, the pattern of his breathing, the river of veins flowing along his skin.
The last time he left, you had bought him a gift of your own. Mini travel-sized bottles of your skin-care, all fitting in a small bag. "Something to remember me by," You said, smile on your lips. Leon, ever so grateful, smiled. His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
"How could I forget you?"
You didn't expect Leon to continue the small routine without you. Being away for missions, ones he couldn't tell you about, gave you an idea that he had little to no free time. Still, he does try. He uses it late at night when he can't sleep. He knows it won't fall asleep, but he misses you, and this is the closest he can get for now.
He tries to mimic your fingers, calloused pads massaging his skin the way he remembers you doing it. His don't feel as good, though. Your hands are more gentle than his are, not rough from years of work experience. His hands have rough callouses, despite his use of gloves.
Still, you're happy to smell your products on his face when he gets home. Your small laugh is a welcomed reprieve from his thoughts of the mission. "You're wearing my skincare," You muse, eyes trailing over his skin. There was no difference, but the light smell was there, and the knowledge that he had used it.
"Of course I am," Leon replied, as if it was obvious. Intertwining a hand with yours, he brings it to his mouth. Faint stubble scratches against the back of your hand. The smile on his face is clear, and despite having seen it many times, you'll never get over it. He kisses each knuckles of yours, chapped lips pressed against the flesh. He's missed this. Missed you and your touch.
Spain was difficult. It had been long and treacherous, testing his commitment (as if there was anything to test) to his country. He can't tell you what happened, but none of it matters now. Not when he's holding you in his arms, faint smell of moisturizer linging on your cheek.
He'll never get tired of this. Coming home to you, holding you. Loving you.
If there's one thing Leon is more sure about than anything in his life, it's his heart that beats for you. His soul that has pieces of yours in the sound of your laugher and the feeling of your hands.
His heart beats to the rhythm of your laugher. Loving you is muscle memory. He doesn't think about it. He doesn't question it.
Leon Kennedy loves you, and he will love you for the rest of his life.
#𝆹⭒ vi writes!?#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x y/n#resident evil x reader#resident evil x you#resident evil x y/n
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141 Headcanons: Going Shopping
Grocery/Food Shopping
John Price loves being the one in charge of the buggy/shopping cart. He loves being the one pushing it, holding the list, and watching you walk ahead all pretty, plucking whatever you'd like to buy onto the cart. He also has a natural eye for deals and sales, and knows when something is actually for sale or when the shop is trying to lie to you.
Johnny MacTavish is a menace when he's shopping. With or without you, he's definitely straying from the list and the budget. He's definitely the type to go shopping while hungry and ends up getting too many snacks, or buys seasonal products that you don't need but that "will get rotated out" of the shop so he better buy them Now.
Kyle Garrick makes a whole day out of going shopping. He'll disappear while you're getting a cart and come back with Starbucks or a cold drink of some kind for you to sip on while you go along and buy whatever you need for the house. He's also very efficient, so he bags everything very well, heavy stuff on the bottom, light/fragile on top, and, especially, all the cold/frozen things together.
Simon Riley is too efficient. It's almost scary. He goes in and out of the shop in record time and doesn't even let himself be affected by sales, new products, limited-time-only displays... Nothing. He follows the list to a T and would rather go inside alone than have you follow him and slow him down. But that also makes him an ass and he'll definitely realize you forgot to add something to the list, but will STILL not stray from his 'route' to go get it. If you wanted it, you should've written it down.
VS.
Clothes' Shopping
John Price is of the opinion that all his clothes are fine and, therefore, he doesn't particularly need new ones. That being said, he does know all his sizes and measurements, and won't be opposed to getting news shoes or a new button-up every once in a while. He's also very much the type that'll give you his honest (and sometimes hurtful) opinion on the fit of the clothes you're trying on and sincerely suggest you try the size up/down.
Johnny MacTavish doesn't really like buying new clothes, though he can be convinced... if you promise him you'll go to a lingerie shop and pick out something sexy to wear just for him, he'll let you take him to Levi's or what have you to get him new clothes. That being said, he is the type who, when you're trying to find his size, will fuck off and disappear, only for you to find him by the till, looking at the male jewelry displays and analyzing all the chains and bracelets and cheap watches.
Kyle Garrick is a sweetheart to shop with. He has a good sense of what looks good and what doesn't, and knows the basic of 'big prints work well with small prints and with plain colours', even if he doesn't really wear much of either. He also knows about colour blocking, funnily enough. He loves when his sweetheart tries things out in the dressing rooms just for him.
Simon Riley is the worst person to go shopping with. Be it for yourself or for him. He hates waiting around as you skim the clothes' racks... He'd rather sit outside in the Husband Chair™️ until you're done. And if you try to drag him to a male clothing shop to buy him stuff? He'll complain the whole time about the price and the quality. "Why would I pay 15 quid for a t-shirt when I can put in an order and get 5 shirts from the Army for free, da'lin'?"
#ikea writes 💚#masterlist#headcanon#simon ghost riley#captain john price#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#shopping headcanons#cod headcanons#141 headcanons#soap headcanons#ghost headcanons#price headcanons#gaz headcanons
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Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 1)
In which Isekai!Reader becomes a merchant, and unintentionally Link's benefactor.
Even more self-indulgent trash. The usual.
PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
Alternate Extras: Embrace
Masterlist
TW: Nothing worth mentioning.
Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.
---
Being transported into a video game was not as dramatic as the media had led you to believe. For one, there was no bright, all encompassing light nor the feeling of a thousand worlds ripping themselves asunder. Instead, you had taken one step out of your door and crossed the threshold into an endless field of tall grass.
Panic should have taken hold by that point, but it didn't. You'd later learn it was just postponed by the shock of it all. At the time though, you'd simply taken stock of the situation, scanned the horizon for civilization and started in on the first plumes of smoke you found in the distance.
You'd been lucky. So incredibly lucky it had been a village that you'd landed near and not something more sinister. That you had decided against going near the waterfall or towards the forested area where a clear path was etched into the hillside.
You hadn't known that yet though. Instead, you'd taken the most direct route and hiked up the steep grassy slope heading towards the plumes.
Near the top you'd taken a short break beside an apple tree, admiring the perfect shape of the fruit hidden throughout it's low hanging branches. How large they were, and how brightly colored.
You'd taken one, struggling to pull it from it's stem. You were surprised by just how heavy it was when it finally did give way; more akin to holding a watermelon than an apple and as large as a grapefruit.
It was strange, but you figured it was just a variety of apple you were not familiar with, or perhaps you were heading towards a farm that was working on a new type of apple for the market.
You decided to save this one for later, in case the place you were heading didn't have resturants or take card payments. The surrounding land looked pretty rural, so you wouldn't be all that surprised if they didn't.
As soon as you'd thought it though, the apple disappeared. No light or sound or anything to indicate the unnatural occurrence, just popped out of existence.
It should have startled you, and it did, but you didn't panic. Not yet. That would come later. Right then, it was almost like you were dreaming.
In the top left corner of your vision a flicker of red came into existence. A simple line of words ended in an explanation point that pinged at your subconscious.
[New Item!]
And you'd thought, 'What a strange dream.'
---
Four years later, and you knew this was most certainly not a dream. The panic had passed, the initial pain of loss and separation had eased. The confusion of a new language and culture had settled into smooth integration.
The easy acceptance of the Hateno people helped a great deal with that.
Honestly, it helped that the population was as small as it was. While some cultures would shun outsiders upon contact, the scarcity of new blood had made your arrival quite the welcome event. Even if you were a human.
Perhaps even because you were a human. It was hard to tell sometimes. Your round ears were equal parts admired and awkwardly avoided in polite conversation.
You tried not to think about it too much.
The bottom line was that you had been transmigrated into Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Your head now contained the equivalent of the Sheikah slate and the differences in product quality here and your world was, to put it frankly, wacked. The metabolism and durability of the region's residents was even more so.
The apple you had picked up the first day had lasted you two days. Each bite was equivalent to eating two apples. Eating a whole apple was enough to make you sick. You'd watched a hyrulian child munch down three of them with no issues, and then ask for dinner.
Your conclusion; Magic. Hyrule was very similar to your own world, but the addition of magic had fundamentally altered the biological makeup of it's inhabitants.
It wasn't a difficult conclusion to come to. Hell, one of the farmers had even given you a brief rundown on the magic quality in the soil once, explaining the emergence of Hearty foodstuffs. It was an eye opener for sure, though a welcome one.
However, things got complicated in your case. The addition of gamer like attributes seemed to alter the world around you to an alarming degree. Nothing too noticeable thankfully, but still noteworthy.
Things you picked or put in your inventory had a way of coming back within a few days. This, you'd learned, was not the norm. A harvested field stayed harvested until it was replanted. A picked apple stayed gone until a new one grew from another bud.
Things did not just reappear after enough time away from them. Hyrule did not have that type of magic, though it would seem you did. Which, honestly, was fine by you. It helped you make a living at the beginning.
Food, you found, was a precious commodity. The game made it seem easily accessible, but in reality it was a hit or miss depending on the season. Late spring through early fall was bountiful, but the rest of the year was downright miserable.
People here lived on what could be grown locally. When things stopped growing, people started struggling.
Not to say most residents starved, but the cost of a bale of wheat went up drastically in the winter. Nevermind the cost of fresh fruit, meat or anything not pickled or preserved.
The game never showed this side to Hyrule. The part where these magical people with their high metabolisms suffered during the lean winter months. How they worked and saved all year just to break even through the cold season.
Winter might have been the time of hardship, but it was your golden goose. It was how you made a living, how you came out ahead.
Anything stored within your mindslate stayed perfectly preserved, untouched by time nor the effects of decomposition. And added to your unusual effect on the world, it allowed you to amass a literal shit ton of resources.
At first you'd make daily trips around the village gathering enough materials to ensure a place at the inn every night. Anything would do. Wheat, crickets, apples, the occasional fish, even fairies.
(Strange that one, how your mindslate just stored living beings like that. They were the one thing you didn't mess with. Just let them sit in there, as far from your mind as possible.)
You cut grass with your rusty sword, hacked down small trees with your equally cheap and rusted ax, roamed the nearby woods for mushrooms, beetles or lizards. Occasionally, you'd even find a more unusual item. Like a sword or shield just laying in the grass.
You'd try not to think of how it got there.
You gathered resources for a living, and the shop owners came to know you as the Apple Merchant. It was sweet actually, and it seemed to endear you to some of the residents.
Perhaps they appreciated that you were trying to make a life for yourself among them, not just begging for handouts. Or maybe it was pity for the foreign human who didn't know hyrulian common well. Hard to tell.
When winter came that first year, is when you realized the full breath of your situational advantage.
One year. That's all it took. One year to become one of the wealthiest people in the village.
And they didn't even realize it.
A bundle of carrots purchased cheaply during the height of harvest season sold for five times that amount in the winter. A bundle of wheat, nearly seven. And meat was something else entirely. Rare enough during the warm season, it became worth its weight in gold the moment winter set in and creatures ventured to warmer regions.
Winter was a literal Godsent.
And the next winter was even more profitable. Now armed with the foresight of experience, you planned your life around it. Bought overflow harvest in bulk, bought out traveling merchant's wares without a second glance.
You prepared, and you thrived. Your bare threat clothes became wool, your worn shoes became comfortable soft leather. You bought a horse, then three, a wagon. Hired guard detail.
Became a merchant. The Apple Merchant; written in clear hyrulian script across your wagon.
By the third year, you were in Lurelin, Kakariko, and every stable and small settlement in the southern reaches of Hyrule. Damn near made it to Gerudo too, before the logistics of such a trip set you back.
You made it though, on your forth year. Reaped the benefits of being a well stocked merchant in an inhospitable place like Gerudo desert. Never made it to Gerudo town though, but the outlier villages more than made up for that.
Life was good. It was profitable. You could even say you were happy.
Then it happened in the early spring of the fifth year. The Shiekah towers rose.
It was nothing that should have concerned you. Link had finally awoken from his 100 year slumber as he was meant to, and his story would continue on without you. Your paths would probably never cross. You were just one of the thousand's of merchants making a living all across Hyrule.
You were nobody in the grand scheme of things. You were someone completely removed from the big picture.
Until you weren't.
And it started with a missing apple.
---
Now I return to the shadows to rest.
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The crows hanging out together, the couples cuddling with each other
Kaz laying down : i am bored…
Inej: no…
Kaz: yes…
Inej: Kaz,no
Kaz: Kaz yes
Kaz sits up
Kaz: Zenik,you and your boyfriend are disgusting, we are not interested in seeing your cutesy display, no other couple can disturb me this much with their cuteness. So disturbing there,sharing the seat like the co depending pair you are, sickens me
Jesper: i beg your pardon?
Nina: In Kaz’s language: he said we are the cutest couple he knows, loser
Jesper: Wylan and I are sharing the seat too
Kaz grabs the popcorn
Nina : Matthias and I are so cute, we share our desserts
Jesper: well, Wylan and I share our breakfast
Wylan: more like we kind of fight for it-
Jesper: you shh!
Nina: Matthias and I share our passwords
Jesper: Wylan and I share our pijama, and I am not saying we exchange them, we literally pick one and I wear the bottom only while he wears the top only , the remaining half exposed
Wylan seeing Kaz opening his mouth: don’t!
Nina: Matthias and I share our tooth brush!
Matthias: we do what?!
(Twenty minutes later)
Jesper: we share the bath!
Nina: so do we!
Wylan: Jes! (Matthias: Nina!)
Nina: we share hair products!
Jesper: we have shared undies!
Wylan: Jesper for fuck sake!
Jesper: well,i couldn’t say hair products, it’s obvious we don’t share that one
Wylan: just for the record, it was only once and my closet was set on fire
Nina: Matthias and i share dreams! We sometimes dream the same thing
Jesper: new flash! dreaming that Kaz is abducted by aliens is not a cutesy couple thing, we all have been there!
Jesper: also, to convince you who are the actual best couple, I’ll go to a lawyer, change my name and birth certificate to match Wylan’s and we’ll be sharing an identity…
Nina: not if I get there first to change Matthias’s certificate to match mine!
(Both run away from the room,Inej stands up)
Inej: I’ll get them
Kaz: the best entertainment is free
Wylan : Jesper did have a point in saying that dreaming Kaz getting abducted it’s an universal thing
#shitpost#netflix shadow and bone#six of crows#leigh bardugo#kaz brekker#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#grishaverse#nina zenik#crooked kingdom#inej ghafa#matthias helvar
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MC Grooms the Boys! Part 2
MC finds themself watching as only a few of the boys actually regularly take care of their demon appendages and thats fine, but self matinence is hard sometimes so after reading all about it, you decide that they need help!
Diavolo
Diavolo is a busy and powerful man, when you ask if he grooms himself or if he has attendants like Barbatos groom him, Diavolo quite literally freezes in his tracks, shocked.
its a second before he reboots and gives you a sheepish grin.
honestly, hes busier than he looks and doesn't often get the time to properly groom. sometimes he gets a hand from barbatos or Lucifer, but they're both quite busy too, and while he'd lvoe to accept, no one else besides his parents has ever offered to help groom him before.
you find that shocking, but yeah, actually when you think about it, that makes sense.
instead you change tactics and tell Diavolo you'd asked because youd read about demon grooming and asked him if he would let you groom him.
he turns to you so excited so fast that you get whiplash from it.
did you think he'd say no? this man is so happy he drags you to his palace and sticks you in his office before leaving you for a mniute, returning after a literal minute with a sixable bag of grooming tools and oil options to choose from. he then, like an excitable puppy, moves to his desk and snaps his fingers so his chair no longer has a back.
the wings and giant horns emerge and once you recover as he waits happily for you to get started, you look through the bag and start with a stiff brush to run over the top of his wings first.
you can see and hear Diavolo doing paperwork as you groom him, but he's not going very fast and keeps letting out happy little sighs whenever you hit a really nice spot on his wings or a very soft little growl-adjecent noise when you put too much pressure or scratch too hard somewhere.
all in all it's very chill and he seems to be productive as you work on his wings, but when youre done and need to do his horns, you pause and wonder if you should interrupt his work-
diavolo's not doing work, he's just making random doodles on a piece of paper. when he realizes he's been caught he gives you the most chill look and sheepish little grin. bro almost looks like hes been drugged with how calm the normally very excitable man is.
hes not, he can assure you, but it's been so long since he got groomed to such an depth extent and he really couldn't focus, it simply felt too good. but would you still do his horns even if he wasn't productive?
as weak as they are to you, you really can't say no to those pleading and wide eyes of melted gold, so he turns his chair around and you take just as good care of his horns as you did his wings.
at the end, when you're putting his things away, you have a very happy demon lord at your back and if you ask for something, if it's in his power at all, you could get it if you dared to ask.
dont be surprised if he blurts out, at some point, a question about you doing again. he'll pay you for your services of course, but you were really very good at it.
Barbatos
sorry you would like to what? Barbatos is dumbfounded at your forwardness as you ask him to let you groom him.
you have a book on grooming habits of demons under your arm and a bag in your other hand with the supplies one would need for grooming. you came fully prepared to make good on your question.
Barbatos is busy, he appreciates your offer, but-
you grin at him and hold up a paper from the bag, a note from Lord Diavolo to take the day off with his signature at the bottom. you look very proud of yourself, barbatos isn't sure if his brow should be twitching at your smugness or if he should be blushing at your forethought and kindness.
but if he has to day off, well he can't remember if he's ever gotten help before with grooming, and it had been some time since he did more than keep up his appearance. he could do with a proper in depth grooming. and he simply can't say no to those eyes of your and the hope in them.
he escorts you to his room where he quickly sets up a few pillows and blankets on the ground for comfortability and asks how you would like to do this.
goes bright red at your suggestion that he either sits almost in your lap or laid across it so you can properly reach all of his tail.
in the end he decides decides that netiher will do and lays on his stomach to have you sit on the backs of his thighs, feeling thats the least embarassing option here as he's never been groomed by another before and 1, wants to make sure he has a pillow to bite on is nessecary since his tail is sensitive so you can't hear him should he make any noises, and 2 he would rather you sit on him than lay himself across your lap, the implications are simply too sexual for such a simply matter.
(you think otherwise, this is a perfect view of his a-)
you're not going to argue if this is what hes comfortable with, so you get starts by rubbing down his tail in circular motions with a boft brush to get rid of any old loose scales. by the time you work from the base to the split in his tail, Barbatos has gone limp under you and is making a noise in his throat that sounds a hell of a lot like purring.
sexual implications and nice view nothing, he's blushing a bit only because the gentle pressure and relief that comes with someone else grooming him is something both new to him and amazing.
the split in his tail causes you pause and in that moment of clarity Barbatos gives you a few instuctions before going limp again when you get right bakc to it.
through the next brush and then rubbing oil into his tail, that's a purring mess of a happy demon beneath you.
youre laughing to yourself and trying not to show it as you poke Barbatos until he snaps out of his stupor so you can do his horns.
those are . . . very complicated, and now he smiles, sits up, and leans down as he guides your hands and shows you how to scrub and clean them off, the purr still edging his voice as you do as instructed as carefully as possible.
despite his warning that his horns are sturdier than they look, it seems so fragile so you're being very cautious to not accidentally break it. that would hurt him a lot after all.
when it's over hes right back up, but he did get a whole day off, so hes quick to offer you a hand off the floor and ask if he could treat you to a cafe he really enjoys in thanks (it could be platonic or romantic, but either way, its a date, who says no to barabtos when he invites them out?!)
Simeon
Simeon chokes on his tea when you ask if he needs help grooming. Once he can breathe he asks what makes you think that.
You tell him you'd read a book about demon grooming habits and got curious about angels, so Solomon gave you a book on angels and you knew they had a shedding season. One of the signs of shedding for an angel not using their angelic form, is the repeated shifting and rolling of the shoulders.
Simeon . . . Can't exactly deny that he's sort of agitated and it is very itchy. Normally angels help each other out during shedding season but Luke's too young to know how to really do be helpful in the way Simeon needs.
He tries to brush it off saying it's annoying but he can take care of it himself, it just takes more time. You're not having it and drag him out to go shopping and get grooming supplies, but the stores you get Simeon to agree to go to don't have what you need, so what do you do? You call Lucifer.
He's not a total dick, as the only one of his brothers who still goes through a shedding season, he has everything and is willing to let you borrow his things for the time being.
But it does mean that you have to groom Simeon in Lucifer's room, and he's not up for that. He's trying to avoid it and you can't understand why until Lucifer sighs and leaves the room, locking it behind him. Simeon then reluctantly let's you pull him to the bed and shows you his angelic form.
Once you start, he relaxes, sighing happily at the relief that comes from your mistrations and the perfect amount of pressure to soothe his wings. The brushes are a bit different than what he's used to and the oil you use smells muskies than he tends to prefer, but Simeon's not going to complain. He's very relaxed and making small happy noises until he notices Lucifer back in the room and goes tense, but your sudden tighter grip on his wing stops him from pulling them back into him.
Lucifer has to tell both of you he doesn't care about seeing Simeon's angelic form like he's so worried about, st which point you understand but then you're forcing him to calm down by undoing some of your hard work to scratch his wings.
By the time you're done, Simeon still looks a but guilty but is very grateful to the both of you. He's surprised when Lucifer offers his things and room again if he needs help, but gives a shy smile when you offer to help with the actual grooming and says he'll let you know next time he molts.
Luke
What?! You wanna help his groom his wings?!
Wh-wh-what?! But that so- but he's plenty capable of doing it himself so don't treat him like a kid!
You're not, you just want him to be comfortable! And it's easier with help, plus you like spending time with him.
Well, Luke guesses it's ok if that's the reason why.
You two settle on his bed and Luke let's his wings and halo show as you run your fingers through them, straightening feathers and pulling old loose ones out.
Luke absolutely melts at how good it feels and you two chat lazily as a baking show plays on the TV
Luke, after a while when you're almost done, is nodding off. It's been a while since anyone groomed him since he doesn't like being treated like a child (especially down here in the devildom) and usually Michael helps him.
You settle the sleeping Luke down and quietly clean up as he sleeps, but you stick around and watch over him while he sleep since he's just too cute.
Little D's
The babies need grooming too, and though they tend to help each other, they love you and love it when you offer to help them with it instead
As you groom one the others entertain you amd it's a grand old time!
Solomon
Can suck my [REDACTED]
Bro he don't need grooming!
But he'll try to get you to brush his hair and pamper him anyways!
If you like him - you might agree to it, so long as it's a mutual agreement and he'll help take care of you too.
If you do you'll find he's actually really good at braiding long hair/making short hair nice and neat and shiny.
If you don't, well you tell him to get Asmo to pamper him and watch him pout about it for a week.
Bonus Edition I Guess?
if you do this for a bunch of the boys/all of the boys, then 1, dont be surpirsed if they start bugging you for grooming more, and 2, better start charing for that shit cause it eats up your time.
and if you really wanna make good money, get the brothers or someone to just stick close and keep an eye on you and offer your services to other demons with their good reviews at your back.
Mephistophles is one of your first customers and it was Diavolo who forced him to chillax and go get groomed. however you feel about it, you're getting generously paid (and it doesn't hurt to be on the guy's good side), so he leaves loathe to admit that you are very good at it.
and if he thinks you're a decent person or whatever (i havent met the guy yet, gimme a break) you might find an endorsement in the school newspaper on how good you were.
Part 1
#did i imagine kitsune-oji's wonderful MC when i wrote Barbatos?#yes#I love Chris and would die for him and his husbands#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me memes#obey me headcanons#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me luke#obey me solomon#obey me mephistopheles#again i havent met him#but i think hes a bastard cat#will push a glass of the counter#just so he can watch you clean it up#that just seems like him if he doesn't like you much#he hates luci?#whatever#like you can touch him bitch#hell kick your royal ass#you aint diavolo#no balls btich#he got no reservations whipping your ass#i cant wait to meet those three in the distant future tho#raphael looks like such a clueless sweetheart#thirteen is obviously my kinda queen tho
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Male Omega hc
I wrote these a while ago and never posted them. Male omegas and female alphas are my favorite dynamics and my favorite pairing fr so I wanted to do an entirely separate post on my boys
Pretty long so bear with me under the cut also its fairly nsfw at some points reader beware
🍥 Omegas in general are considered a rarer dynamic but when adding primary gender to the statistic male omegas are one of the rarest of the 6 gender/dynamic combinations
🍥 Male omegas typically cannot impregnate. It can happen in extremely rare cases but it’s so unlikely no one really considers it a thing. They are biologically built to conceive and bear pups even tho this is a little more challenging for them
🍥 Male omegas have wider hips than an alpha or beta male, but narrower hips than a female beta or omega. This can make it difficult to give birth naturally. It’s possible and happens all the time! But sometimes it’s just too narrow and a c-section is needed
🍥 Male omegas have lower fertility rates than their female counterparts. They’re more on par with betas fertility wise which means they aren’t likely to have litters (3-4 pups) like females can. Males usually carry 1-2 pups at a time and anything more is considered a high risk pregnancy
🍥 Over the course of their pregnancy they do develop breasts
🍥 They’re much smaller than the other dynamics, more on par with a female alphas, but they do lactate
🍥 This is a permanent change! They do not reduce after the first pregnancy
🍥 This physically marks males who have carried a pregnancy at least until 3rd term, and those who haven’t
🍥 Unfortunately male omegas suffer from body dysphoria at a higher rate than other gender/dynamic combinations
🍥 There’s a lot that goes into this and it differs from omega to omega, but it boils down to masculine body parts that function and a more masculine stature vs how feminized the omega identity has become and the feminization of bearing children.
🍥 Pregnancy and the development of breasts makes this a lot worse
🍥 Binders are rather popular and easy to find because of this. It’s highly recommended to use these instead of resorting to your own tactics to avoid any bodily harm
🍥 Top surgery is also available for male omegas who feel strong or crippling dysphoria, but they won’t be able to lactate afterwards. More traditional packs/religions frown on the surgery for this reason and prefer binders as a solution
🍥 Pharmacies, department stores, lingerie stores, anywhere you can buy a bra or healthcare products will probably sell some sort of postpartum binder!
🍥 Speaking of lingerie stores, stores that specialize in omega lingerie typically carry two styles of bottom for every top. One that accommodates afab anatomy and one that accommodates amab anatomy
🍥 Some omegas feel the opposite kind of dysphoria tho, where we just talked about those who are unsettled by their more “feminine” parts there are other’s who identify with their omegean side more and find their more masculine parts more upsetting
🍥 Tucking is a common solution, though this is kept kinda on the down low in omega only circles. You won’t find this sort of thing advertised in common media
🍥 I mentioned earlier that male omegas are p much sterile, so this makes them really popular hookups especially for other omegas going through a heat
🍥 In some areas male omegas are more demanded than alphas when an unmated omega wants a partner for heat
🍥 Not only is there really no pregnancy risk with them, but some argue they make better lovers in general since they understand the vulnerability of penetration/heat and how to work the anatomy since they’re built similarly
🍥 The concept that male omegas do not get as much pleasure out of penetrating compared to receiving is a myth! Both kinds of orgasms are equally pleasurable and some males only enjoy penetrating just as others only enjoy being penetrated. Its a personal preference!
🍥 The omega micro penis is also a myth. Omegas are smaller on average but they’re really not much smaller than an average beta
🍥 Keep in mind that when concerning length most alphas are showers and most omegas are growers. Your omega man might end up bamboozling you :))
🍥 Omega cum is clear or opaque. No/little sperm = no white
🍥 Male omegas are at the very bottom of the unspoken hierarchy. Normally the male takes place above the female, but it’s not the case with omegas who’s primary biological function is to conceive. Since female omegas are better at that they’re considered above males
🍥 Male omegas are very rarely represented in leadership positions because of this. Even within packs it’s extremely rare to find a male omega in a place of power/respect
🍥 This also contributes to a lot of the adversity they face. Males are at a higher risk of mental illnesses, suicide, sexual abuse, drug use, and face higher incarceration rates
🍥 Lightening the mood a bit…
🍥 Males have a deeper purr than females. It tends to be quieter too, but that can vary from person to person
🍥 Male omegas growl at anything. Any small inconvenience or discomfort grrr… they can whine and keen like all omegas but on average they tend to be more gruff with vocalizations.
🍥 Male omega fashion varies widely from place to place. They can be more masculine coded or more feminine depending on the dominant culture of the area. Neck covering is popular with all omegas, so high necked outfits or matching chokers are always in style.
🍥 Weddings and mating ceremonies are similar in variation with options for more feminine coded or more masculine coded outfits. Jumpsuits with pants partially concealed by the top flaring down is the style for male omegas.
🍥 feminine coded examples:
🍥 A more masculine coded example thank you kpop ur visuals are unparalleled bc i could not find more masculine ones for the life of me until i remembered ab6ix the future world tour in seoul donghyun booby titty outfit:
🍥 Male omegas can be referred to as wife/mom or husband/dad depending on the preference of the individual. If someone needs to clarify which of their dads gave birth to them they’ll use the terms dam and sire, otherwise parental names are a toss up
🍥 All omegas have nesting instincts, if they don’t suppress them, but males and females have slightly different habits. Male omegas tend to pick very closed-in areas with one entry/exit. They also keep their nests extremely hidden, it’s unlikely you’ll know where it is unless you’re mated to or a child of theirs.
🍥 Males need just as much affection, attention, and physical touch as females do. If they’re aloof don’t let them fool you
🍥 If alpha male dude bros can be compared to overexcited dogs then omega males can be comparable to cats
#a/b/o#omegaverse#alpha beta omega#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o verse#omega#worldbuilding#alpha/beta/omega verse#male omega#omegaverse headcanons#omegaverse worldbuilding
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HAIR
in which klaus is taught how to braid his son’s hair.
PAIRINGS: 21st century klaus and adrienne mikaelson. (malachai is around 2 years old)
WARNINGS: FLUFF
___
“It’s different to how you were taught handsome. I know you used to braid your hair and Rebekah’s when you were kids but our son’s hair texture is different.” Adrienne paused as she sat up in their bed. “It’s a mixture of both yours and mine and that just means you need to be more gentle with it because the curls are thicker and tighter but can be loose in other places.”
Klaus just listened, knowing that was best… for now.
“And the oils for his scalp will work wonders.”
“He’s always itching his scalp,” he murmured, recalling the times his son was in discomfort.
“Our scalps dry out quickly. But I tend to wash his hair more often because of his hair type.”
Klaus’ eyes raked over the many products sitting on their bed. Sure he noticed how much his wife would go through back when they started dating, then when they got married and even more so when she was pregnant with Malachi. He was invested in the time she spent doing her hair and often asked questions, sometimes the wrong ones, but she never grew angry… mildly irritated yes, but not angry.
He saw how long it took for her to gather her kinks into buns or part them into cornrows or twists. Pregnancy had made her hair even thicker and he loved it, and only was allowed to touch when she gave permission. When his hair grew out, she often recommended products that would help define or strengthen his locks which he deeply appreciated.
But there were times that Klaus watched Malachai sit in front of his wife, toy in one hand and snack in the other whilst his hair was parted and put into cornrows, Klaus was slightly envious. He couldn’t help it, it was who he was. Their child only verbally communicated if he was comfortable and Klaus realised that whenever Adrienne did Malachai’s hair, he spoke the most, babbling away in his soft southern accent about his day. Which was adorable as Malachai was only two years old, but Klaus had enough and decided to ask his wife for some tips.
When raising Marcel, he always kept his hair short as a prevention, it felt wrong yet it was the norm. Even now Marcel rarely allowed his hair to grow out and everyone knew him for it.
“You ready?” Adrienne’s voice broke him from his thoughts.
Klaus slowly nodded as their toddler shuffled into the room, with his box of snacks — a mixture of healthy and unhealthy of course, but somehow he would always sneak chocolate into his vast room.
“Mama,” his cyan eyes settled on his mother first, making her smile as he was pulled up onto their bed and found his place around the dozens of products. “Hi dada,” he waved at his father who gently smiled at him.
They were all wearing loungewear, Adrienne sported one of her husbands Henley’s, as did he, but she wore nothing but shorts underneath whilst he wore jogging bottoms purely for her satisfaction. Malachai was in his pyjamas and had been all day, only changing into another pair after his morning bath. His socks were off and thick curls down to his tiny shoulders.
Klaus pulled his son onto his lap, and pressed a kiss to his head that would instantly gain a squeals in response.
Malachai didn’t focus on anything else that was happening now his mother gave him a toy to play with.
“Make sure he stays distracted,” Adrienne advised and passed him a bottle full of water.
Klaus hummed, heart hammering in his chest not wanting to distract his son as soft music began playing in the background. Adrienne had told him to gently spray water in his hair and he did, the action didn’t halt their son in any way, although his face scrunched up at the feeling.
The toddler remained quiet, not like he would say much.
“Now the comb…” Klaus listened to his wife as he followed her guidance.
He winced whenever he tugged too hard or heard his son whine. He knew he wasn’t hurting but to him it felt like he was.
“And hairbands, just keep them on your wrist.”
“You have an endless supply or so it seems,” Klaus remarked, as he gathered one side of Malachai’s hair up so it wouldn’t flip on the other.
“And so will you,” Adrienne snorted. “Now detangle,” she saw the apprehension in his eyes as he did. “You’re not hurting him.”
Klaus said nothing in return and just nodded as he combed out any knots in his hair. There was slight shedding but it was expected.
Each time Malachai would groan he would stop but Adrienne would distract the toddler, dazzling him with magic or just plain words.
A tender smile tugged at Klaus’ lips when his wife spoke, captivating both Mikaelson males even whilst he attempted to plait his son’s hair. His hands had to be gentle yet firm.
His heart beat grew tame as he got the hang of it, the cornrows were looser than he wanted but Malachai didn’t fuss as he continued.
Adrienne reassured him with another nod.
“And now the other side…” Klaus let out a sharp breath when he realised he was almost done.
Spray, part, detangle, oil scalp, braid… his mind was stuck on a loop, and he was grateful for it. He was grateful for Adrienne’s words and his son’s unexpected patience.
Mikaelsons had none and everyone knew it.
“Daddy’s almost finished,” Adrienne cood, “did you want to watch ms Rachel before bed Mally?”
“Not that aggravating woman,” Klaus grumbled.
“Nik. It helps with his speech.”
“He has selective mutism. That woman would more likely regress his bloody speech.”
“Niklaus —“
“ — done?” Malachai croaked out, looking up at his father who plastered on a grin when he stared at his work.
It could’ve been better, Klaus thought to himself but he nodded.
“I’m done little Fenrir,” he voiced.
“T-thank me,” Malachai beamed, scrambling his words up, making his parents laugh.
“It’s you, Mally,” Adrienne corrected but he didn’t understand.
“Thank me,” Malacahi repeated and bounced off the bed and skipped over to his box of toys.
“Malachai, no running,” Klaus’ words fell on deaf ears because their son did the exact opposite. “Authority doesn’t register with him.”
“Because you spoil him,” Adrienne claimed.
Klaus softly scoffed, “It’s the Lumiére genes, he doesn’t listen.”
“Fuck you,” Adrienne muttered, aware of how their son would listen at the worst times.
“I’d very much let you,” Klaus sent her a wink, as Malachai’s eyes darted over his toys, thinking of which one he would play with next.
“Mikaelsons are spoilt. Look at you.”
“What?”
“We’re getting distracted,” Adrienne sighed, waving off the argument and grabbing ahold of his hand, “you did his hair.”
Klaus’ face lit up, “I did his hair.”
“Now, only 16 more years to go,” she laughed at his deadpanned look, “And Nik…” she leaned closer, lips trailing his ear, “Good Job.”
His smile grew once more as he pulled his wife into his hold, careful of the hair products surrounding them. Adrienne’s praise meant the world to him, as did his son’s happiness.
The very son who was none the wiser as his parents beamed at him playing.
—-
this just reminded me that wash day is coming up soon and I cannot be asked. I got inspiration from a mum on tiktok who was doing her son’s hair and thought about how klaus would help malachai with his.
#wattpad#fanfic#black reader#black girl#adriennelumiere#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson x black reader#witch#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaleson imagine#black hair#black girl magic#klaus mikaelson x black!reader#klaus mikaelson fanfiction#a dark twisted fantasy#fluff#klaus mikaelson being a dad#adrienne mikaelson#hair
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♫ i can see you x sparks fly | y.jw
as your eternal academic rival, you and jungwon have always been at odds - that is, until he becomes the one person you want to trust your heart with in spite of it all. after all, all’s fair in love and war, no?
read the rest of the series here! (for taglist)
pairing ➭ academic rival jungwon x reader
genre ➭ academic rivals to dubious to lovers, hurt/comfort, academic validation craving, jungwon is reader’s sole comfort
w/c ➭ 5.4k
warnings ➭ slightly suggestive (they’re adults but no nsfw y’all), reader and jungwon both have terrible coping mechanisms for stress, there is a detailed scene where y/n loses her shit in a bathroom, both are academic validation simps, theyre not enemies they just. envy each other and sometimes wanna kiss kiss fall in love, y/n has an inferiority complex and has a tendency to think jungwon’s better than her, she hates herself as much as i hate myself
a/n ➭ to my acad validation peeps…look no further! jungwon and y/n…their ways of coping with themselves are mine. i just split myself in two for them, don’t come for my lonely ass lmao. for more context, look at the bottom a/n!
“done?”
the sun’s beginning to set, its dimming rays beaming through the glass windows of the library. a quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 6.30pm, and that you’ve been studying for the whole day. talk about a productive saturday.
you remove your headphones, glancing over your shoulder. you were planning on staying till the librarian shoos you out. jungwon seems to have other plans, though.
yang jungwon, your rival in just about everything since you were kids. tied with you in every single subject, even PE. he’s everything you are and more – good-looking, funny, and a genius, to top it all off, and he never lets you forget it, what with all the achievements he’s gotten over you. it’s not that he doesn’t work hard and you’re jealous of some natural academic gift he’s got, it’s the fact that you study just as hard as he does, do as much as he does, and yet people will always see him before you. and now, even when you’re at university, he’s still fighting with you for the top spot, for every position available. your circle of friends have remained the same, so like it or not, you’re stuck together.
you begin to stuff your notes into your backpack. “well, i might as well follow you back to the dorms. yunjin’s been lecturing me to stop walking back alone.” gathering your things, you leave, waving to the librarian as you attempt to put some distance between you and jungwon.
very quickly, jungwon moves beside you so his shoulder is almost pressed up against yours. “you sure took your time. if i hadn’t come to find you, the last bus across campus would’ve come and gone by the time you finished.”
“oh, don’t exaggerate. why’d you come here in the first place, when all you do is complain?”
you want to say you hate the boyish grin that breaks out across his face, but that would be a lie, and you’ve done way too much lying today to yourself. “what else? i came here for you.”
“ugh, you-!”
“you ears are red, haha.”
your bus pulls into the stop, and in a thoughtless attempt at revenge, you grab his arm and yank him up the steps so he’s even closer to you than before. you don’t miss the way his skin flushes hot. “now yours are too.” leading him to a seat in the back, you pinch his side. he returns your…affection with a jab in the cheek.
it’s a game of cat and mouse with jungwon, although neither of you can say for sure who’s chasing and who’s ducking away. whatever this is, it’s safer.
at least you’re not actually fighting anymore.
here’s the thing: yang jungwon has this journal. every time he’s upset or on the verge of a mental breakdown, he trauma dumps into that journal. it’s the only way he doesn’t cave from the stress, and you and your friends learned very quickly that if that notebook was out, everyone had to leave him alone for at least ten minutes, then he’d be himself again. one day, you’d been studying together when a draft blew the pages of his journal open, straight to the page where he’d written something that was definitely not for your eyes — or anyone’s for that matter.
“i hate her, so so much i wish she was dead. maybe in a different lifetime, i’ll be better than her, have her beat for once.” you didn’t even need to finish reading what he wrote before you were clawing at his throat, because who else could it be but you?
and it hurt to read it, because what could it mean than yang jungwon was jealous of you? what could it mean that the one person you simultaneously hated and envied, hated you back for all the same reasons? it wasn’t fair that you couldn’t even hate him peacefully.
it only got worse from there, because all it took was a couple minutes of yelling at each other before that ass of a human being decided it was a good idea to tell you it was “three years ago”, and that it shouldn’t matter as much as it did, as if that was supposed to help. and you’d screamed at him, screamed and cried and shoved him and-
his lips were against yours.
you would’ve pushed him off, but as soon as it came it went, and he’d pulled away faster than you could think. “i don’t hate you,” he’d managed to make out, his voice shaky as he tried and failed to recollect his thoughts. “i just…i can’t hate you. not anymore.”
hell, maybe it was the attention, or some sort of sick stress outlet. you wish it were the latter, because then that would’ve been a hell lot easier. either way, you haven’t spoken about it since then, reason being you’re totally out of your comfort zone when it comes to this guy. plus, he’d taken your first kiss, although he didn’t have to know that. having put your all into your academic life, you haven’t really thought about dating anyone at all. sure, there were a few people whom you’d thought were fairly attractive, but you had never cared to do anything more than that (much less with yang freaking jungwon). your ultimate goal has always been to have jungwon beat. you sort of achieved that, you suppose. the boy’s now a mess when it comes to you.
since then, you’ve been using each other as stress relief. stupid, really, but with that annoyingly good kiss still hanging between the two of you, you could only keep coming back for more, waiting for lulls in your timetables to meet up. one thing would lead to another, and…well.
“finished your revision yet?” you probe. if he says no, you’ll just drag him off to finish it. but he’s jungwon. if he says he’s gonna do something, he does it. although it’s sort of disappointing if he just parts ways with you, even after he came all this way to find you so far away from the dorms.
jungwon sighs. “what do you take me for? of course i did, or you’d get mad at me. and i know you’re free for the rest of the day too.” he rummages through his backpack, before handing you a cap and mask. “put these on, i need a big brute to help me buy and carry groceries back to my dorm.”
“and who better than me, huh?”
jungwon grins, waving a matching set in your face. “you’re the multifaceted necessity in my life. my swiss knife, if you please.”
you end up at a mall just a few kilometres away from campus. apparently, he needs laundry pods, vegetables and some sort of microfibre cloth that “can only be blue, mind you.” according to him, if a hand towel doesn’t match his dorm’s colour scheme, the whole world falls apart.
(for the record, his dorm room does look nice. but no one has to know that you know.)
pushing a shopping cart along the aisles, a bag of spinach catches your eye. “how’s this for vegetables?”
he shakes his head. “lettuce is better for hotpot.”
“since when did you plan on having hotpot?”
“it’s our dinner, y/n.”
“…”
he sighs. “i’m paying for the groceries.”
“well in that case…” you move to grab a few packets of meat from the fridge. “you won’t mind if i add these, will you?”
you don’t miss his odd gaze on you as he pushes the cart towards the checkout counter. “not at all.”
so much for the grocery shopping.
dinner is long forgotten as you find yourself pinned up against the walls of jungwon’s dorm, his grip on your waist oddly comforting. your fingers are tangled in his dark locks, pulling him in deeper, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough.
it feels so, so wrong, to be rendezvousing with him, and maybe he knows it too, because when he finally pulls away, there’s a guilty look on his face. “strike two…?” he grins sheepishly. he’s a little out of breath, and you hate to admit it, but it’s kind of hot. (actually, it’s the fifth time this week, but who’s counting? definitely not you.)
how? you’d maintained the status quo for more than a decade. hell, you two are supposed to loathe each other. knowing yang jungwon has some sort of feelings for you must be messing with your brain.
jungwon’s lips latch onto your earlobe, fingers trailing down your nape. it’s crazy, the way every brush of his lips sends your head reeling. over his shoulder, you catch a glimpse of his roommate’s neatly folded quilt, and a thought pops into your mind. “when’s sunoo getting back?”
“he just left for a party, he won’t be back for a bit,” jungwon murmurs. sunoo happens to be part of a circle of close friends consisting of yunjin, sunoo and ni-ki (and jungwon, although you could never admit he’s a friend). you’re a close-knit group, withholding no secrets with each other. more often than not, they’ve been caught up in your fights with jungwon, although those haven’t happened in a while, for obvious reasons.
you hum against his lips, fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into his skin as you try to steady your breathing. “think the water’s boiled by now, get off.” it’s a half-hearted order, and you’re pretty sure jungwon sees through your bullshit. what was it, something about glass houses?
“don’t wanna.”
“jungwon come on-” the sound of a lock in a key slices through the air, jolting you and jungwon apart. panic flares in your chest, and you scramble to shove jungwon far away from you. “hurry up, hurry up.”
sunoo’s voice drifts past the door. “must’ve left it in here somewhere, don’t know how i could’ve forgotten my id of all things.” the door opens to reveal a sheepish-looking sunoo, flanked by your friends yunjin and riki, who don’t look very pleased. their expressions, however, change the moment they spot you in the corner. “y/n?! what are you doing here?”
one look at the tiny hotpot contraption on the table, paired with the small portions of food is all they need to put two and two together. yunjin frowns, marching past sunoo. “ohh no, you two in the same room alone is a big no from me. by the time we get back, the whole place is gonna look like hell, with all the screaming and fire.” her disapproving glance at you makes you want to shrivel up and die on the spot.
“we’ll be studying, don’t worry. we never fight when we’re studying,” jungwon shrugs, shooting a discreet glance in your direction, practically screaming help me.
“yeah see the thing is, you shouldn’t even be fighting-”
“yunjin, don’t.” sunoo takes her by the shoulder, dragging her back out the door. “keep our dorm in one piece, please. we’re off!” while yunjin still believes in peace between the two of you, sunoo’s learnt long ago that interfering with your rivalry only makes things worse. not that you don’t feel a little bad about it.
the door slams shut, leaving you and jungwon alone in the room. it’s an uncomfortable silence, the awkwardness of the interruption still lingering.
“y/n, i-”
you hold out your hand. “give me a moment, gosh.” burying your face in your hands, you groan. “that was probably the worst thing ever. we lied in their faces, they’re gonna kill us if they ever find out.”
you suppose it’s your despair that elicits a sound awfully like a snicker from him. some things never change. “did you see the looks on their faces? they’ll never see it coming.” you finally raise your head, watching as jungwon smirks at you with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. paired with that loose-fitting hoodie of his, and the sweatpants (grey, no less), you’re simultaneously insanely smitten and utterly appalled by said attraction. why’d he have to be so good-looking? he wasn’t this handsome when you were growing up. yang jungwon is going to be the death of you.
it really does take all your efforts not to just shove him onto the couch and claim his lips for yourself again. and then you nearly faint from the prospect of having that thought at all. hastily, you shove a wad of meat into the boiling pot on the table. “we-we should start eating. don’t want the food to turn bad.”
he shrugs, pulling up a chair opposite you. “don’t mind if i do.”
and if you pop open a couple beers afterward, no one has to know.
shit. shit.
days later, you’re at a study cafe with all your friends. you’ve spent the past hour on this topic, and it’s taking everything inside of you not to smash your laptop in half and bash your head into the debris. what the hell is this? you’re not supposed to be bad at this. a glance at jungwon tells you he’s not having nearly as much trouble as you are, and that’s your breaking point.
panic rises in your throat, your lungs, as your vision blurs. words on the screen start to blend, and you think to yourself, you’re a failure again. worthless no matter how hard you try, breaking apart even while trying to hold yourself together. you can feel every tear leave a searing path down your cheeks, nails clawing for skin to carve red lines into. your eyes burn with the buildup of tears, a telltale sign you’re about to lose your shit. in front of jungwon, no less. just great.
you stand up abruptly, the legs of your chair screeching as they drag across the floor. “bathroom,” you manage to make out, as you dash across the cafe full of people, praying no pne notices. you fling the bathroom door open, turning on the tap at full blast. you don’t realise it, but your fingers are gripping the edges of the sink with an intensity you didn’t think was possible.
your eyes flutter shut as you try to calm down, focusing on the flow of the water. it’s not working, but the white noise is more soothing than anything right now. that is, until you hear a clicking sound, followed by arms wrapping around you from behind. judging by the shallow breaths, and the mellow scent of baby lotion, it’s exactly who you think it is.
in your rush, you forgot to lock the door. wonderful.
you lean away from jungwon’s embrace, trying to untangle yourself from him, but he stubbornly holds you tighter. “go back, i’m fine.” you don’t even believe yourself, from the way your voice trembles in between gasps.
he hums, and with your back against his chest you can feel the little vibrations as his speaks. “you don’t say.” he doesn’t continue, and in the silence, your mind stays on the warmth of his body against yours. slowly, you let yourself relax into him. it’s funny, how he can be the problem and the cure at the same time.
you can feel yourself melting in his arms, your breathing evening out with every second that passes. your heartbeat’s finally slowed to a calmer thrumming, no longer pounding in your ears. suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of his soft sweater against your cheek, and the way a thin piece of fabric is the only thing between your skin and his.
“how do you do it?”
jungwon frowns. “do what?”
“hold up the world and make everything seem fine, when you know it’s not.”
he falls silent, resting his head in the crook of your neck (it’s becoming a habit of his). “well…it’s easy when it’s for someone else.”
“that so?” you muse, peering back up at him. “even for me?”
the way he averts your gaze is insanely cute. “don’t push it.”
but you know he hasn’t lied to you. since you were kids, jungwon’s never been the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. he holds everything together, holds everyone together. even now, he’s keeping you from falling apart. but what about him? who’s watching him to keep him from losing it all? you know for sure he’s had his fair share of breakdowns, but your stomach churns at the thought that you’ve never witnessed it. not once. being yang jungwon is lonelier than it seems.
once you’re sufficiently calmed down, you untangle yourself from his embrace. “i’ll, um, head back first. you should wait a few minutes before you go back.”
“right.” glancing down at his feet, jungwon nods. “just…you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
you turn to leave, but a question burns all the way down your throat.
why? would you take it from my hands and bear it with me?
(and what if you wanted to bear his burdens too?)
true enough, your performance on the latest assignment was more than decent — the highest score in your class, in fact. and as always, jungwon’s not far off. your hard work did pay off. funnily enough, you don’t go to rub it in his face like you always used to do.
it seems you’ve changed.
these days, jungwon seems to linger in your head a lot more. and it’s not just the intimate gestures that stay, but the feeling of his arms around you just won’t disappear. every time you’re about to panic, the mere memory of his gentle touch only serves to ground you back to reality. he’s not even physically here, but you don’t need him to be there for him to be your lifeline. how did things even turn out like this? your greatest rival, also your greatest source of comfort.
today, your friends have made plans to head to an amusement park (read: disneyland. because yunjin’s a disney adult in the best sense of the word). you, jungwon, sunoo, yunjin and riki, along with his girlfriend. the dynamic’s great, really, with everyone carrying the mood well so nothing ever feels boring. you’re able to grab a few rides with them, and eventually the group splits for different attractions, and it’s just you, riki and jungwon, waiting for the others to get back from some quirky river ride. you three didn’t bring spare clothes, so you’ll have to sit this one out. parked under a shady tree, you don’t feel the heat nearly as much, but sweat’s starting to make your shirts cling to your backs.
thirty minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of them. riki’s phone pings. “oh, the ride’s delayed. they’re gonna queue for another forty minutes.”
“forty?”
riki shrugs. “it’s a popular ride.”
you rise to your feet. “okay, i’ll go get us some water. you guys stay put.”
fortunately for you, the shop’s got plenty of water bottles, although the marked-up prices do make your wallet cry a little. what you aren’t prepared for, however, is walking back and spotting riki and jungwon huddled under the tree, deep in conversation. quickly, you press your back up to the other side of the tree trunk, hiding in plain sight.
“…you want relationship advice from me?”
jungwon hums. “well, i can’t very well ask sunoo, not when he’s only just stopped partying away to handle his own breakup.”
“true. we need to find him some better coping mechanisms. though i think he’s back in contact with her on instagram. i swear i saw a notification on his phone the other day with her user and all. that webinar he’s going for next tuesday? think it’s her.”
“oh.” you can hear the wince in jungwon’s voice. “that’s a little…”
riki glares at him. “don't change the subject. shoot.”
he sighs, his lips twisting in concentration. it’s a habit he’s had for a long time, one that you’ve come to notice. “so there’s this girl.”
“uh-huh.”
“i can’t stop thinking about her.”
“uh-huh.”
“but i know she hates me-”
“shit, you like y/n?!” riki yells, slapping jungwon on the back before he can even finish. “of all the billions of people on the planet?”
“how’d you guess?”
“she’s the only one who hates you, buddy. no prizes for guessing who.”
jungwon groans, burying his face in his hands. “i don’t know anymore. she just can’t get out of my head. don’t tell the others, i’m begging you. i’ll never live it down.”
“okay…” riki trails off, and you can imagine how confused he is. “why her though? and why now?”
jungwon’s practically fumbling for an answer, running his hands through his hair (another nervous tic of his). “it’s just…i guess i get her, and she gets me? we understand each other’s problems really well. it’s like looking into a mirror.”
you nearly choke at his words. he gets you, that much is clear. but for him to feel like you know him inside out, that’s a completely different thing altogether. it’s always been a struggle for you to read people. coupled with the fact that jungwon’s the most emotionally intelligent and regulated guy you know, you’ve been worried you’re not giving him enough.
besides, he’s so much more than you’ll ever be. you, the mentally unstable top student, and jungwon, the other contender for your spot, but with something more: people skills. everyone likes him, everyone wants to be him. the battle’s lost before you can even fight it. he’s a good person, and you’re…nothing like that. people trust him, including you.
so why would he dare to leave his heart in your hands like that?
it’s not fair. he knows exactly what to do, and you know nothing. he’s dated other girls before, not many but enough to be more experienced than you. how would you know anything, other than to clumsily take his affection with a heap of salt? you’ve failed him.
oddly enough, riki seems to understand. “i think i catch your wind, but you’ll have to elaborate. what’s the dynamic with her right now?”
“i, uh.” jungwon flounders, his cheeks turning pink, no doubt at the memory of everything you’ve done with him. “th-that’s not…well.” he laughs nervously. “how much can i say before it’s too much info?”
as you watch him with his toothy grin, with those eyes that crinkle in the corners, you know one thing - you absolutely adore him. it’s sudden, but how could you not? he’s everything. much as you hated him, it takes little of your pride to admit he’s been your lifeline for a while now. but you wonder, why would he pick you? for the sole reason that you know him well? that isn’t enough, is it? you may have never understood romance, but you’re guessing this isn’t the usual kind of reason people fall for other people.
besides, there’s nothing special about you.
you end up waiting for the conversation to drift to small talk before joining them back. as always, jungwon’s quick to revert to his usual, teasing self. and despite it all, you find your gaze to be on him the whole time.
it’s dark out when you guys finally make your way back to the dorms. with the others off buying water and snacks for a late-night hangout, you’re left alone with jungwon to head back. he’d conjured up some lie about you leaving some study material in his dorm and needing to grab it before going back to your own, and they seemed to buy it. so here you are, walking along a concrete pavement with the boy you can’t seem to understand, with rain practically beating down your backs. the weather really hates you.
with your path being lit only by the orange glow of the overhead street lamps, and the air filled with nothing but the sound of pouring rain, there’s nothing much you can say. nothing really feels right to say right now, because how do you even begin to address anything in the past month?
jungwon’s grip on the umbrella is tight. you swear it’s leaning slightly towards you. in his other hand is a plastic bag of merch you got from the amusement park, full of junk like headbands and shirts.
wordlessly, you sneak your pinky into the palm of his hand, hooking your fingers together. there’s an odd sort of intimacy in the little gesture - a silent reassurance that concedes a lot more than you’re usually willing to. to your relief, jungwon doesn’t mention anything about it.
suddenly, his footsteps slow to a halt. he whips out a pair of sparklers from the bag you’d gotten from the amusement park, slipping one into your hands. “quickly, before they come back.” as he fumbles with the lighter, a familiar endearing look of concentration on his face makes you giggle a little. the lighter clicks a few times, and the sparklers come to life.
despite the pouring rain, the sparks of violet flash brightly, illuminating your view of each other. with his face glowing a pretty shade of purple, you can see the ridges in his face, from the dimples in his cheeks to the curve of his mouth. “and why exactly are we lighting fires in a downpour?”
“oh shut up, i’m trying to have a moment with you here.” the retort comes easily, a little too easy, seeing as he slaps his hand over his mouth almost immediately. “you heard nothing.”
“mhm.”
and then he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk, the faint crackling filling the silence as you continue on. you can sense jungwon’s gaze on you, so you pinch his arm. “something on your mind?”
he exhales softly, patting your shoulder. “if i say it’s you?”
“then you’re a cheesy bastard. what’s really going on?”
he laughs, but you know there’s something lying under the surface. there always is. (huh, maybe you do know him better.)
“it’s nothing, really. just thinking about…us, i guess.” he pauses. “well, mostly you, if i’m being honest. i don’t really know where to start.”
you shift closer to him under the umbrella, till your cheek is pressed against his arm. “i think i do. your journal?”
“ah.” he grimaces, his laughter a little less nervous. “that much i’m sure you’ve already guessed. i don’t think i ever hated you, y/n. not really. i guess i just got scared that there was someone who saw through me so well.”
“and…are you still scared?”
he shakes head firmly. “no. it’s a good thing, because, well. you feel safe. like a place i can go to and let my guard down. i imagine doing things with you i’d never do with anyone else.”
“not naughty things, i hope,” you joke, but the brilliant red that blooms so bright across his face you can see in the dark is extremely telling. “yang jungwon! get your mind out of the gutter!”
feigning a cough, he looks away, fighting for whatever dignity he’s got left. “my point is, i can’t go on as your rival. i…i need you.” he swallows, and in his eyes there’s a vulnerability you know is saved only for you. “i don’t know why, but knowing you’re the only one who understands me is all i’ll ever need. selfish as it is, i want to keep you here forever, so i don’t have to feel alone again.” he says it all with a conviction that’s so strong it almost scares you. he’s putting all his trust into you. does he not think it’s terrifying, to leave all his sorrows with a person like you?
“are you confessing to me?” you whisper breathlessly. you seriously hope he can hear you over the crashing rainfall. “because i’m not sure if i’m-”
“yes. i’m confessing to you, like right now.”
oh. oh.
but there’s an ache in your chest that swells as you try to meet his glassy eyes. “but if you know me so well, you’ll know that i’m not all that. i’m an emotional wreck who can’t live without her ego, and i’m just…me.” and you’re so much more, more than i’ll ever be.
at this, he stops dead in his tracks, not giving a damn about the fact that the rain’s only getting heavier. “i-okay. what do you think of when you think of me?”
“how is this relevant?”
“just answer the question.”
you lick your dry lips, scouring your brain for a reply that can tell him exactly what you want him to know. “it’s like you can see who i am, like you know exactly what to do to make everything okay again. we’ve been under the same pressure to be good our whole lives, and when you try to make me feel better i can tell you mean it. and it works, and i honestly don’t know how i could possibly live without it, now that i know what it feels like to be loved by you.” if you’d told your younger self that years into the future, you’d get to bare your soul to your greatest rival, she’d probably laugh in your face. but here you are, and it’s comforting to know that he’d never judge you for it.
finally, yang jungwon grins that radiant grin of his, the tip of his sparkler meeting yours. “isn’t that reason enough, then, to keep me here? let’s be selfish for once, you goody-two-shoes.” the soft gaze he has on you has your already-weak resolve crumbling away, and it’s as though a hole’s been filled in your heart. one you didn’t even know existed.
“we’ve been too good our whole lives, haven’t we?”
“all the more a reason to be a little more reckless.”
but you let the sparkler fall to the puddle-strewn pavement as you cup his face in your palms, pressing your forehead to his. “for you? any leap of faith would be worth it.”
and you kiss him, with the force of every unsaid word, every apology and confession of the past eighteen years. as much as you’ve done this before with him, every other time he’s kissed you pales in comparison, because for once you see why you wanted him so badly. why you wanted him to have a piece of your soul. maybe, just maybe, pieces of you are already a part of him, and him of you. fragments of each of your shared pasts had embedded themselves in your hearts long before you’d learnt that the sting was one of longing, and not jealousy alone.
his grip on the umbrella loosens, his palm wraps around your nape, a thumb caressing your jaw in a movement both reverent and yearning. with the umbrella now blown far, far away, you’re completely drenched, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore. as his other hand moves to hold your waist, you’re surprised at how naturally it comes. you tug him closer, and it’s both everything you’ve ever wanted, but at the same time never enough. breathing in the lingering scent of his lotion, you decide that this, this is home.
“...what we had was special, you know, and i can’t just let - am i seeing things? oh shit, you guys have to see this, oh my-” sunoo’s voice rings out in the night, and this time you just giggle against jungwon’s lips, not bothering to even look at your rightfully flabbergasted friends. this time, you want them to know.
riki sneers in disgust as he flings your stray umbrella towards you both. “i’d congratulate you, but i’ll be too busy puking in that corner right over there.”
“as if you and your girlfriend aren’t worse,” jungwon teases, catching the umbrella with one hand, the other still on your hip. gosh, that was attractive.
oh gosh, this guy’s your boyfriend. yang jungwon is your boyfriend.
by now, your friends have caught up with you, and you’ve got a feeling they’re about to circle you like starving vultures for a good story. but you can’t even bring yourself to mind as jungwon takes your hand into his, interlacing your fingers as he reopens the umbrella. “ready to go?”
anytime, if it’s with him.
a/n ➭ so yall…the promised context. this started off as a secret romance thing where ynwon were more touchy feely (in fact this is the fic that started the whole series lmao). but along the way i decided to use this fic as my projection + built-in jungwon character analysis. tbh the final result of this fic is…very different from what i had in mind at the start, but i’m okay with how it turned out in the end! as always, thanks for reading till the end! if u have the time do reblog/comment so ik what i can improve on haha have a good week! ALSO DID YALL SPOT THE SUNOO X YN CRUMBS
#yang jungwon#jungwon x reader#jungwon x y/n#jungwon x you#enhypen jungwon#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen fanfic#enhypen ff#enhypen fic#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen sunoo#enhypen niki#kim sunoo#enhypen nishimura riki#ni ki#nishimura riki#huh yunjin#le sserafim#le sserafim huh yunjin#yunjin#jungwon fanfic#jungwon fluff#jungwon#jungwon angst#enha
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I saw requests were open and I have one☺️. How about one when you are like Brad Pitts daughter or anyone famous daughter and you just started dating and his team or Friends like make fun of you and hurt your feelings or just say he is using you.
hi hun!! thank you for sending the request!! i hope you like this!!!
Word Count: 2.4k
Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader
Warnings: cursing, kissing
masterlist!! | send requests!!
“He’s just using you because your dad is an A-lister”
Those were the words Y/n wished to never hear. But, she always did, in her every relationship.It was when her friends began to say that, that she knew the relationship was reaching its end.
Y/n. Y/n Pitt. The daughter of Brad.
She was almost as famous as her father, if not less. A successful model and actress, a philanthropist and currently, the girlfriend of Harry Styles.
Her fame and success didn’t come handy, despite her father being a prominent name in the industry. Her career got a big break when she won a prestigious beauty pageant, and she has never looked back ever since. She made her way by herself, from the bottom to where she is now.
Still, whenever she hears the phrase “he used you”, it hits like a dagger deep into her heart, and that makes her question if she would ever be loved by anyone for who she is.
Which takes her back to today, sitting in a cafe with her friends, which was supposed to be a hang out. But, soon it turned into a relationship discussion, full of petty gossips and hate. About her and Harry.
“Dude, you know that he is with you because of your dad, right? I mean, come on, Y/n! You can’t be this naive!”
“That’s totally true! I mean, like, think about it, next month is the opening of your family production house, which was announced 6 months ago. And, Harry started dating you just around that. That just can’be a fucking coincidence.”
She sighed, as she listened to the both of them trash talk Harry. She knew they weren’t true. They hadn’t met 6 months ago. They had met a year ago, and occasionally saw each other at awards and openings. They did some harmless flirting for so many months, but then, one day, they were drunk and hooked up. After that, they started to date. It was Harry’s idea, because he didn’t want her to feel like he did all that flirting to get in her pants one day. He genuinely liked her, and was hoping to ask her out. And that had felt like the perfect opportunity.
They had been happy ever since. Harry didn’t inquire too deeply about their family’s business. He wasn’t interested in her money and fame. He was interested in her. He liked her. Right?
“Y/n! Are you even listening?” she was broken from her trance of thoughts by her friend, and she immersed herself back into the conversation.
“You have got to do some background check on him. See what he does on meetings with his team. He just finished a tour, he wouldn’t be planning another one so soon. You know, snoop around, find out stuff.”
“I am not going to do that! That would mean I don’t trust him! And I do! I trust him. And what he does on meetings with his pr team is his Harry!!!business. I don’t want to put my nose in between.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Yeah. Say him hi from us if you see him soon. Or if you see him at all”
That hurt her.
True, they both hadn’t seen each other since a few days. Weeks, if you will. But, he told her that he was busy and had to visit his mum for a while. And how could she argue with that?
She decided to not answer them back, terminating any further arguments. They changed the topic soon after, talking about some other gossip.
. . .
Throwing her stuff on the floor, she slumped down on the bed. The workout was good, but sometimes, it drained the whole life out of her.
After catching her breath, she got up and pulled out her phone, pulling up Harry’s contact.
They had texted three days ago, and the messages made her smile,
Harry: Okay, so, do you like tea or not?
Y/n: I like tea. But not that much hat you will bring me a while shop of your “Special England tea”!!
Harry: It’s not even that much. Plus, I will drink it with you.
Y/n: But still???
Harry: Come on!!
Y/n: Alright, fine! But you will make tea for me. Every morning and evening.
Harry: Done! Always at your service, ma’am! 🫡 Plus, you know, tea has antioxidants. And it boosts immunity! I can make a cuppa for you everytime after we fuck.
Y/n: Harry!!!
Harry: What?? It really boosts energy. After one round, you feel so tired and—
Y/n: Alright, stop! You’re such a menace.
Harry: I’m your menace!! You took responsibility of this menace those months ago.
Y/n: Don’t make me regret that!
Harry: Aww :(( I’m sad now.
Y/n: Wanna facetime?
Harry: Yess! But I’m still sad :(( 🙁
Y/n: Yes, Harry. I will make it up to you! Now call before I change my mind.
Harry: Yes, ma’am 🫡
They used to text regularly, but called rarely. The last call had been about a week ago, when he was drunk and had butt-dialled her. They had talked, and she managed to safely halp him get to his room, drink water and go to sleep. And he slept without hanging up, and so did she. Harry woke up at midnight, and started sneezing, which woke her up. She wanted to check him for fever, but he promised he was okay, and was going back home soon after, so she didn’t have to worry afout him. She was a bit assured by that, but still, she couldn’t stopped worrying.
He hadn’t called ever since. Even the last one was a accident.
She wasn’t the clingy type, or someone who needed calling and texting every minute and every hour of the day. They both had professional careers that mattred to them profusely. But, she missed him. So, she decided to call.
He picked up, and was clearly in the middle of something.
“Y/n! How are you?” she didn’t hear them clearly, over all the talking in the background.
“Harry! Where are you?!”
“I’m in a meeting!”
“But-you were supposed to be at your mum’s!”
“Yeah! I came back early. I had a meeting her in LA. It’s about an upcoming film.”
“A film!?”
“Yeah. It’s in the talks. I haven’t signed it yet, though.”
“What is this about?!”
“I’ll tell you, I’m coming back sson. Then we can go on a dinner or something. And hey! I almost forgot! The production is done by your dad’s firm!! Isn’t that great!”
Shit.
“Oh! You-you didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, your dad asked me not to. But, it’s gonna be on the media soon, so I thought you hear it from me rather than the press.”
“Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk later.”
“Sure, love! Bye!”
And she cut the call.
Were her friends right? Did he use her for all these months just for this?
Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t.
She felt sad. Sure, the offer might’ve been by her dad, but, no one talked to her? No one even bothered to even tell her about it, till the last moment. Till the paparazzi were gonna know so that she won’t feel bad for herself by hearing it from them.
Maybe they were right. Maybe he did date her to get the advantage, and will soon breakup with her, as soon as his job from her is over.
As soon as he has finished using her.
. . .
He was coming back today. But, she wasn’t bothered. He could come, and go back to his own house. Not bother talking to her, or even seeing her face. She didn’t want that.
Despite that, she picked up his call.
“Y/n? You didn’t pick up my call yesterday. Was calling you before I got on the plane.”
“Yeah-I was kinda busy yesterday.”
“Oh. So? I’m back. I’m gonna get my baggage and then…maybe I can come over?” he smiled, she could tell.
“Uh-I don’t know, Harry. I’m tired. I had a shoot yesterday and I haven’t eaten much.”
“So? Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’d rather stay ion tonight”
“So I–”
“Alone.”
“Oh. Alright. Okay. Call me if you need me.”
I won’t. She thought to herself.
“Bye, Harry” not “Bye, lovie” or “Bye, H”
Maybe she was tired. Harry decided not to think about it too much, and instead, went to his house.
. . .
“Harry!! How’s my man?”
“Hey! I’m good! You know, same old-same old.”
“Yeah! Where’s Y/n? She isn’t here?”
“No, man. She actually wanted to rest today. She had a shoot yesterday”
“No, she didn’t. She was with us yesterday. We went shopping, and then drinks, even.”
“Oh…”
“Maybe she was tired? Or hungover?”
“Or maybe she didn’t want to be with me.”
“Hey! Don’t say that. She actually likes you. Talk to her.”
“Yeah. I will”
He didn’t talk to her.
. . .
Y/n was scrolling through her phone, when she heard the door knock.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Harry.”
She wanted to pretend she wasn’t here. But, it was too late for that.
“Coming!”
She opened the door, and was welcomed with white peonies. A lot of them.
“Good morning, love”
She couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face on seeing him in the morning. The glowy face, the handsome smile.
“Good morning! Come in”
He walked in, removing his shoes, and to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.
He came back, and she was sitting on the sofa.
“I put them in water. Hope you don’t mind”
“No! I don’t. Come on, sit.”
He sat, to hug her, and sling a hand over her shoulder.
But, she slid away.
So, he sat away too, both ending up on the opposite ends of the large sofa.
“So? How you’ve been?”
“I’m fine, thank you! How was your shoot that day?”
“It was alright.”
Lie. He didn’t bother asking her more, not wanting to hear more lies.
“You free today?”
“Yeah…I think so?”
“So, can we go out? A coffee or something?”
“Or, we can hang out here.”
She smiled. He caught it, and scooted closer, wanting to kiss her.
She didn’t protest, allowed his lips on hers. It was when he deepened it, and his hands went to her shirt buttons.
“Harry–Harry!”
He pulled back, confused.
“Yeah?”
I-I don’t really feel like– you know”
“Oh. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s alright. I just don’t feel too up for it”
“Sure.” they both looked down, an awkward silence engulfing the atmosphere.
“I should leave” he said after a few seconds, taking the hint that she clearly didn’t want him there.
“Oh. You don’t wanna stay?”
“Not really.”
Saying that, he saw his way out.
“She dosen’t like me anymore. Maybe found someone else.” he thought
“He got what he wanted. Why is he staying? He should leave already.” she thought.
Harry was sad. As he walked towards his car, he felt anger. She didn’t like him anymore. Could’ve just said to him at his face.
He couldn’t live like this. So, he decided to got back to confront her.
Before Y/n could close the door shut, Harry was back.
“Harry?”
“Yeah. Me.” he growled, so angry, his eyes were red, and fists clenched.
“What happened?” she asked, a bit scared.
“You tell me what happened. You don’t like me anymore?”
“That’s not–how can you say that?”
“You don’t talk to anymore, you don’t call me, or even text me. You don’t want to hang out with me, hell, you can’t even stand kissing me anymore.” he was hovering over her, and she was scared now. He realized that, and backed down, throwing himself on the couch.
“That’s not true! And you can’t talk like that to me!”
“I’m sorry. But you could just tell me. Instead of making me suffer like that. Or do you like that?”
She too was angry now.
“Maybe I do. Right now, I fucking do. And that is much better than what you did to me!”
“And what did I do?!”
“You used me. You fucking used me to get contacts with my family. You just wanted to get close to my dad so that you could use his money on your stupid new movie!!”
“What? Fuck! You think that low of me?!”
They both were yelling now.
“It’s not “thinking low” of you. It’s what’s true.. You didn’t even tell me anything. Hell, I didn’t even know you were doing another movie.”
“I was planning on telling you over dinner. After I came back.”
“But, you couldn’t. You feared that I would learn everything from the media, so you told me haphazardly over a fucking call!”
“Oh, so would you rather have heard it from them?”
“Could’ve been better. Better than hearing from a fucking liar. A fucking loser who just used me to get my father’s money.”
“Watch your tone, Y/n. I haven't gone that low. And you know that.”
“Maybe I don’t. Maybe you did, and once you got it, came back here to break up with me.”
“You’re so fucking childish!”
“Oh. Break up with me, then. Do it”
“Maybe I will” he mocked her. And walked out the door, slamming it shut.
He went back to his car, and made his way inside this time. Once the anger had subsided, he cried. And so did she.
. . .
“Harry styles rejected a movie produced by Y/n Pitt’s father. A coincidence or a desperate attempt?”
She slumped, when she read the article. and then about ten more, about how he had backed down in order to save his relationship. Some said that it was a publicity stunt.
She pulled up Harry’s contact, calling him.
"Why?"
"To get it off your mind that I did not use you."
"Fuck, Harry. What do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything from you. I want you."
"Really?"
"Yes, y/n. really. I did not give up a million dollar project for just "really""
"You didn't have to, you know. And that wasn't a good bargain either. What did you get? Me? Should've taken the movie instead."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah"
"You want me to break up with you. And take the movie instead.?"
"Yes. if that's what you want."
"What I want is you. How do I say it so you believe me?"
"Take me on a date."
. . .
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watching doctor slump at the moment. i love how relatable ha-neul is to me. but jeong-woo is as much relatable.
i love the 'now that we hit rock bottom let's rest for a bit.'
as someone who was swayed to the ground, and stayed there before feeling strong enough to stand up again, it's nice to see part of my story somewhere else. 'cause not moving forward, sometimes, is not well perceived by the people around you, even though it is what we need.
i love that ha-neul sacrificed her youth for her studies, and now has to learn that living is also not being productive and successful but lazy and having fun outside are valuable experiences too. i love that jeong-woo is learning that success and reputation are intangible and mean nothing if no one cares about you.
the lead pairing is so complementary in that aspect. she had to work harder than him because she's a woman. and he never had the emotional support of a family. she was so obsessed with work she gave up on discovering herself, and he was so obsessed with being acknowledged for who he is that he did not see how pretentious that made him look. they both failed, and the world failed them both.
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I have 7k+ on a fic that was supposed to be 4k max, I am letting my delusions go wild, a spoiler:
here's the final product :p
idol namjoon x f. reader, f is latina and poc (and this is completely unedited i mean it )
Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PHD, you knew it was going to be hard, but god it really was testing you, of course you were happy for NamJoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on Joseon era artwork focused on its influece of todays art, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because namjoon happiness was part of your own.
The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was namjoon’s gift, it might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of this months, going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on you mind. You would be lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you.
“Y/N?” he called for you, you were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair, you purchase for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty, of the balcony, namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompany by artworks and souvenirs that both of you have collected through the years, some on your travels together some alone.
“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, namjoon was a handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple bottom up was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and say,
“My parents are here, they're asking for you” are they? was the only thing in your mind
You walked to him with a smile taking his hands, to greet them, a most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?.
“Y/N! His father greeted you “You look beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line? "His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?
“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.
After polite talks and greetings for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.
Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter, letting namjoon in the living room, talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, namjoon was out of your sight.
Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PHD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of seoul, just what you wanted, but was namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.
#namjoon#yoongi#smut bts#bts fluff#bts imagines#kim namjoon#kim namjoon fic#kim namjoon fluff#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x you#namjoon x reader#namjoon imagine#kiv3
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