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astonmartinii · 6 months

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big reputation | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

they may have a big reputation and they may be end game, but sometimes you need a push from your girlfriend to enter your reputation era

(also no hate to vasseur and sainz, it's just the way the fic had to go)

MASTERLIST | TIPS

f1newsandgossip

liked by user1, user2 and 13,209 others

f1newsandgossip: after ferrari's continued chaos and inability to get anything right it seems, do you think charles leclerc will stick around and renew his contract?

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user3: i love him and i love ferrari but if he wants any shot of winning a championship he has to leave

user4: i would die to see him at red bull or even mercedes

user5: would he want to be a second driver though?

user4: babes they treat him like he's the second driver at ferrari at least there he'd have a competent car and team

user6: yes ! he has to leave, no one at that team respects him anymore

user7: he should've left a long time ago but this season has to be the final nail in the coffin

user8: all he does it protect ferrari and ferrari don't even give a shit about him it's actually sad

user9: they don't even protect him from his teammate and his teammate's parents being rude about him in the media

user10: for real the man needs to stop being a team player and tell him how it is

user11: i feel so so bad for him because his childhood dream is turning into a nightmare and through no fault of his own

user12: i know y/n is absolutely seething and the only reason she hasn't said anything yet is because charles is so in love with the team that he won't say anything bad about them

user13: i need her to give him a lil slap around to get his head in gear

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,309,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: you and me got a big reputation

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user14: me being delusional: OMG THIS MEANS CHARLES IS FINALLY ENTERING HIS REPUTATION ERA

user15: and then we remember rep is an album about love first and revenge second :(

charles_leclerc: is this a taylor swift reference?

yourusername: yes it is !! i knew you were actually listening when i gave you the full eras breakdown

charles_leclerc: i'd listen to you talk about anything

yourusername: even the things you don't want to hear?

charles_leclerc: i think it has gotten to that point, yes.

user16: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN ^^ ???

alexalbon: when will i be freed from the shackles of having to take cute photos of you two

yourusername: NEVER

charles_leclerc: is a seat on my jet not enough?

alexalbon: YOUR JET? i have clearly missed something here

maxverstappen1: alex is always free to fly air max (MY jet, factually)

yourusername: when did this become a dick measuring contest? (charles would win, you can all go home)

maxverstappen1: i don't want you to see my dick

charles_leclerc: i should think not verstappen

alexalbon: i don't know how i hang out with you morons

user17: gosh y/n is so sexy

user18: i am allowing myself to live in delusion and after the shitshow that was austin, y/n is initiating the reputation era and charles will either give ferrari hell or actually leave

user19: idk that man might be completely in love with y/n but he's even more in love with ferrari

charles_leclerc: nothing compares to her

user20: WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,204,509 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: hola mexico! can't wait for the weekend to start

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user22: post your team or car? no. post a random picture of your girlfriend? yes.

user23: he should post an explanation as to why his gf was being wined and dined by christian horner

yourusername: ZOOWEE MAMA

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

yourusername: instagram would ban me if i really said what i think

charles_leclerc: oh i'm blushing

yourusername: but always above all you are a cutie patootie

user24: i see posts like this and i wonder why do they always have break up rumours if they are this in love?

user19: bestie we simply cannot be believing everything we read, especially when it comes from a certain spanish paper

liked by yourusername

user24: wait what is this supposed to mean?

user19: any "insider source" at ferrari that has anti-leclerc info is usually the sainz family lol that's why other than ferrari being clowns in general charles needs to get the fuck out

pierregasly: rivalling me with just how much you post y/n

charles_leclerc: ummmm you've met her, and you wouldn't?

charles_leclerc: WAIT don't answer that

user25: so are we just ignoring that y/n was at dinner with CHRISTIAN HORNER?

user26: the red bull!charles dream a bit more feasible now and i am appropriately feral

user27: obsessed with how he's just ignoring the horner thing

user28: i am similarly obsessed with how the media are spinning this to an affair between y/n and horner LMAO

yourusername: he made us split the bill after ordering a really spenny wine :/

user29: I'M CRYING

user30: horner's like if i don't get a driver out of this dinner i will be having a nice glass of wine he's so real for that

scuderiaferrari: let's get it 💪

user31: GET A JOB. LEAVE HER ALONE

liked by yourusername

user32: lol she's so tired of being subtle

user33: TELL THEM SIS

liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 1,450,667 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1: BREAKING: charles leclerc signs for red bull racing for 2024 on a four year contract

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user36: they're MUGGY for the first picture omg

user37: SOMEONE CALL THE EMERGENCY SERVICES FOR ME I CAN'T BREATHE

user38: wait so like who do i have to thank for finally making this happen?

user39: this has y/n y/ln written all over it - the dinner with horner finally makes sense

pierregasly: WHAT ?????????

user40: HE'S FINDING OUT AT THE SAME TIME AS US? DID ANYONE KNOW?

user41: THERE WILL BE NO EXPLANATION JUST REPUTATION

liked by yourusername

user42: okay since y/n and charles have referenced the reputation album so much during this whole fiasco .... taylor swift x charles leclerc piano ballad collab when?

user43: so this is il predestinato who has betrayed his team and completely blindsided him? this is why carlos has always been the superior driver

liked by carlossainz55

user44: not carlos liking this comment

yourusername: i wish he would say something with his chest, always hiding behind his parents and the spanish media ... yeah we know about that and we're no longer under that stupid contract so i can and will say this all to your face

user45: HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTT

carlossainz55: you got the move and attention you wanted stop trying to drag me into it

yourusername: babe there's a difference between you and i, you create fake cheating rumours to try and shake your teammate while your PR team is fulltime constantly having to threaten legal action over you not being able to keep it in your pants

user46: ERM QUEEN THEY STILL HAVE RACES TOGETHER

redbullracing: anyways.... WELCOME TO THE TEAM CHARLES

user47: admin what is going on?

redbullracing: i have no clue but as soon as that man is in a navy race suit i will get the tea trust

user48: so real of you

maxverstappen1: ☕️

user49: LMAO KING

yourusername: i have a feeling we might get on (no more inchidents though)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 1,344,099 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: they said i did something bad, why does it feel so good?

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user51: momma does not play oh my

taylorswift: proud 🖤 🐍

yourusername: approved by our lord and saviour, thanks mother

charles_leclerc: do you need a pianist?

taylorswift: i'm sure we can work something out

landonorris: ^^ this is so unfair i thought i was the swiftie on the grid :(

danielricciardo: my rendition of our song says otherwise

user52: she really said FUCK FERRARI AND FUCK YOU TOO

user53: as she should

charles_leclerc: i'm not a playboy but i do LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you even more

charles_leclerc: NUH UH I LOVE YOU MORE

yourusername: i would literally fight every person on earth for your hand

charles_leclerc: oh wow ... mark me scared AND horny

alexalbon: okay that's ENOUGH

user54: i'm so glad she shook him out of the ferrari daze he. might finally have a chance at the championship now

user55: i'd be afraid that ferrari may build a good car next year but then i remember it's ferrari LOL

user56: so y/n mentioned under the f1 post about a contract? was she not able to say anything about ferrari while with charles?

yourusername: yes. i was not able to say anything they considered negative. many times when i expressed disappointment in how charlie has been treated i was reprimanded by ferrari and was banned from the paddock for weekends following any statements

user57: wtf that is crazy ??? makes sense as to why charles always blames himself when it was clearly a pit/strategy issue

yourusername: ferrari have attempted to keep charlie under wraps since his second season at the team. they were worried about him becoming outspoken like seb. this goes all the way down to his music which they tried to prevent him from releasing. i'm glad he'll be given the chance to show his talents next season

user58: thank the lord charles finally left. this is insane. the reputation era was well and truly needed.

maxverstappen1: kelly wants to know whether now you'll be wag teammates that you can raid each other's wardrobes?

yourusername: of course !!! i can't wait to see her more often coffee dates are a must ( + p of course)

charles_leclerc: i'm gonna beat your ass at padel i WILL be the padel king at red bull

maxverstappen1: i will show NO MERCY

yourusername: maybe this was a bad idea ...

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,332,909 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it saddens me to my core to be leaving the team i always dreamed of racing for and winning with, but there comes a point in your career when it's time to put your ambitions above tradition. ferrari has always been the dream for me, but the last couple of years have been a nightmare. i never thought i'd be put in a position where i'd have feelings like these about the team i love, but the constant disrespect, betrayal and the treatment of my loved ones leaves me no other choice. despite this sad ending, i am looking forward to new opportunities at red bull, racing alongside an old friend and under a competent leadership. finally, thank you to y/n and my family for being there for me during this time despite the way we were all treated. i know i will get questions, but there will be no explanation, just reputation.

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user59: he really left comments open so we could drag ferrari

user60: and drag i shall do... that man despite the absolute tomfoolery got that shitbox on the podium and NONE OF YOU SHOWED UP

user61: for real, they're out here trying to show charles as petty but then KEEP PROVING HIS POINT LOL

yourusername: i am so unbelievably proud of you. i know this was a hard choice but it's the one you had to make. today and every other day i will always be there to support you even if no one else is

user62: subtle DRAG

charles_leclerc: i love you to the moon and to saturn

yourusername: you're my invisible string

yourusername: also this is what i mean when i say reputation is a love story with a side of shade

user63: i know binotto let out a sigh of relief that he dodged this shit storm

yourusername: that fraud is SO lucky i was under contract while he was there otherwise i'd drag his ass so bad he'd be bald

charles_leclerc: i don't know how he made it out of silverstone alive after the whole finger wagging saga, i had to hold her back

sebastianvettel: i hate to say i told you so .....

charles_leclerc: SEB ????? BUT I'M DOING IT NOW, I'M NOT WASTING IT (tell christian to give me the better strategies i know you're still the o.g golden boy)

maxverstappen1: you know i can see this right?

christianhorner: and me?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername baby please take the fall for me

yourusername: I COMMENTED THAT

maxverstappen1: you guys really aren't slick... you're lucky i already love you two

christianhorner: i feel like i need to brief PR already

yourusername: if it makes it any better i'm a great baker and very generous

redbullracing: WE'LL TAKE IT

user64: @netflix make sure there's a camera in that garage at ALL TIMES

pierregasly: proud of you calmar, i hope this works out better for you than it did for me

yourusername: NO ROOM FOR PITY PARTY HERE SIR

yourusername: wait that was rude, we love you pierre

charles_leclerc: thank you pierre

pierregasly: ummmmmm tell y/n she can't say that ???

charles_leclerc: she made me see the light kinda owe her everything rn, so sorry?

christianhorner: definitely brief PR

note: teehee here it is. MY GOD my writing block has been insane - i also went on a trip to london and got horrendously drunk and made AWFUL decisions. alas, i hope you guys enjoy this and the race later !!

EDIT: I AM SO FUCKING ANNOYED AT THIS RACE ONE DAY WHERE CHARLES IS NOT FUVKED OVER IS ALL I ASK WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc

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cherryfennec · 2 months

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So this was originally supposed to have a kickass artwork of the bros using the power- up and stuff but then I got sick and then I realised Im out of time and here we are so uh hieee everyone and welcome to my post-

Happy MAR10 Day! For the occasion, let's go back to the (not discussed in a long time) Power-Up headcanons. This time I'll focus on the Ice Flower (most of the lore under cut like last time)!

This was surprisingly requested by some (3) people. I'm going to be honest, I barely remembered this one at first. I kinda know how it looks and generally what it does, which will have to be enough to base this entire thing on. With that being said, I did some thinking and here's what I've got:

General headcanons;

This one has difficulty surviving outside of it's original environment. If you want to keep a batch in the house your best bet is to use the fridge/freezer, otherwise it looses both it's blue look and the stored energy. See, the Ice Flower originally wasn't (and still technically isn't) it's own flower species. Let me elaborate:

Nowadays the conditions there are not as harsh, however a rather long time ago travelers heading towards places like the Snow Mountain needed to be both be specially trained and very well equipped to even attempt a climb. A heat source was a big must, and it so happens that it often consisted of Fire Flowers. They'd put some in their coats to keep warm, as well as store a few in the backpack just in case they needed to protect themselves from monsters. When setting camp during their journeys these hikers would use the Power-Ups energy to start fires and cook food. After the flowers were depleted of their energy and entered their hibernation stage (I talked about it in my Fire Flower post), they would be simply thrown away like trash. Waiting for them to recharge was often not beneficial, especially in conditions like this, so there was ultimately no point in keeping them. However like I mentioned before, Fire Flowers are very adaptable, which actually wasn't that known at the time. Instead of wilting, these stubborn plants would try gathering energy like the usual, but since it was very cold and direct sunlight was limited, they decided to collect something else. While not all flowers made it, a few managed to amass the eminating frost and turn it into a new kind of energy which proved to be enough for their survival. With time even their petal colour changed to blueish hues. And thus the Fire Flowers in the area became Ice Flowers and over the years started populating the mountains and snowfields.

The Ice Flower is a multiple use Power-Up in theory but more often than not you'll find yourself without a place to freeze it after using one. If it's not placed in a cold environment during it's hibernation it'll either die or, more uncommonly, simply revert back to being a Fire Flower after a long process.

Mario and Luigi specific headcanons;

While the idea of being able to freeze stuff sounded cool it wasn't very fun to learn.

In Marios case imagine: you're good at something, really, REALLY good at something. Okay great, now imagine being told that your knowledge doesn't matter because now you need to do the opposite of what you've learned. Back with the theme of "elements don't mix", Mario absolutely hated how much effort he needed to put into focusing the newfound energy to barely make a tiny projectile. Even before he got the Firebrand he had enough difficulty with it, so it only got worse from there. This was one of the rare times where learning the bare basics instead of mastering a Power-Up was enough for him.

Luigi didn't really mind. The main complications came more from the vague instructions he received during training rather than his own inability. Suprisingly or not the Thunderhand didn't make this one much of a pain either, I guess anomalies attract eachother. While he doesn't consider this Power-Up as a favourite he still finds it pretty fun that he can freeze and walk on water. Did you know, he used to be pretty good at skating in high school. If you didn't he'll make sure to bring it up at a given occasion. Back to ice powers, he definitely outdoes his brother on this one, even if not by much.

There's probably one more thing I should mention. Despite the contrary belief the Ice Flower does NOT increase ones tolerance to cold temperatures. To be frank it might even decrease it by lowering the bodys natural temperature, making the chances of frostbite higher. And so, they learned it the hard way.

In conclusion, this is more of a situational Power-Up. It's neither easy to find or preserve which can be annoying but despite all this it's hard to deny that it's ultimately a useful tool.

Few bonus headcanons!

I don't know how much sense I conveyed through my broken wording and less than average writing skills but it's not that shabby if I say so myself. Just like last time some details might change in the future but for now that's the general idea that I have considering the Ice Flower. Once again thank you to whoever took the time to read this!

#super mario #mario bros #smb #mario #luigi #myart #mar10 #mar10day #super mario bros #mydesigns

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

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Remember You Even When I Don't (1)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 2.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: I'm so excited and so nervous to be posting this. It was originally going to be a one shot, but it got a little out of control and so I've decided to try and split it up into multiple parts.

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

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He woke up feeling like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls and an ice pick had been taken to his head over and over and over again. The pain was blinding. The grimace on his face must show, because suddenly there was a squeeze to his hand and a soft voice by his ear.

“Bradley?”

That’s him, he recognized, maybe taking a little bit longer than he should have to realize that fact.

“Oh, Bradley. Can you open your eyes for me, honey?”

His movements felt slow to him, delayed and lethargic and like he’s fighting against more g-forces than he ever has. It takes him a moment to pry his eyes open, but when he does, he immediately flinches and squeezes them shut again.

“Shit, oh my god I’m sorry,” that voice speaks again. The pressure on his hand is released and he hears what must be the squeak of a chair being pushed back. A soft click sounds through the room, but it felt like another clink of the ice pick on his skull. It’s a little less bright beyond his eyelids now, though. In another moment, his hand is warm as it’s encased in another again. “Lights are off now.”

It felt like a tremendous effort to open his eyes again, and the process is slow. As he came into consciousness a little more fully, he registered the pain in more than just his head. And oh, there was a lot of it. He tried to shift just the slightest bit and immediately regretted it. It felt like every centimeter of him hurt. God, even blinking hurts.

The room comes in and out of focus, and even when it mostly clears, there was a slight blur around the edges of his vision. He recognized enough to know he was in a hospital. The white walls, the iv running through the crook of his elbow, the continuous beep beep beep of the monitor on one side of the bed are a giveaway to that.

“Baby, baby, hey, don’t try and move, okay?”

The voice on the other side of the bed must belong to whoever is holding his hand. Despite the request, he couldn’t help but slowly, slowly turn his head in that direction. The voice was captivating, melodic, almost, and he wanted to see who it belonged to. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus on you, but when they do, he’s blown away.

“Wow,” he breathed out in awe, his voice scratchy and sore, “you’re beautiful.”

The breathtaking woman holding his hand laughs, and the sound is beautiful, but then tears well in your eyes. He doesn’t like that, he decided. He’s confused as to why he cares as much as he does about that fact. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you responded as you wiped under your eyes, “it’s just so good to hear your voice and see those eyes, baby.”

There’s something he’s missing. The nagging feeling in the back of his head tells him that it’s something important, vital, imperative to his very survival. He racked his brain to try and find what it was, but the pain was so severe and his vision was starting to go in and out again the more he tried to figure it out. God, what happened to him?

“Let me call your doctor,” you insist, and you’re standing to press the button on his bed when he tries to speak through the pain again.

“Are you…not my doctor?”

His voice was low, but he knew you heard him by how your entire body froze and your watery eyes snapped to him. Tears were welling again, he noticed in his blurred vision, but the look you have in your eyes was different this time.

He felt like he did something wrong.

You pressed the call button over and over again, more times than is probably necessary, before sinking back into the chair that he was starting to think you’ve been in for a long time. It felt like your hand was holding onto his a little bit harder now.

“Bradley…do you know who I am? Do you know my name?”

The pain in his body was ricocheting through him so viciously that he felt he may throw up, but he tried to push through it and think anyway. It felt important. You felt important, but he couldn’t figure out why. And he couldn’t think of your name, either. It’s that feeling of being right there on the tip of his tongue, but it just wouldn’t come out.

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry. Should I?”

You gasped lightly and he doesn’t like that sound, either. Before he could try and apologize, for something he wasn’t completely clear on, the door to his room opened and suddenly there were way more than the two of you in the room. He’s surrounded by white coats and navy blue scrubs and your hand wasn’t in his anymore and he missed the feel of it. He flailed slightly, trying to find it once more, but you were being ushered to the back of the small hospital room and that doesn’t feel right, either.

“No,” he muttered, not listening to any of the medical personnel asking him questions and poking and prodding at him. He just knew that he wanted you back beside him, looking like you did when he first woke up, not sad like you did now.

Everything hurt.

Someone was shining a light in his eyes and he was so overcome with it that he at first didn’t notice how everyone in the room stopped moving when he had been asked what year it is and he had said 2018. He answered again when they asked who the current President was and his date of birth.

By the collective intake of breath throughout the room, it seemed the last one was the only one he got right.

“Lieutenant Commander -”

“It’s just Lieutenant.”

The doctor clicked his flashlight off and took a small step back, clearing his throat and contemplating his words before he spoke. “According to your official Navy file, you were promoted to Lieutenant Commander two years ago. And unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander, it’s no longer 2018. It’s 2022, sir.”

The beeping of his heart monitor was starting to quicken, and his own breathing was loud in his ears.

The doctor started speaking again, but Bradley couldn’t hear him. There was a consistent buzzing in his head. He was starting to get unbelievably dizzy. He felt like he was going to be sick. Throughout it, his eyes were still on you. The tears were streaming freely now, no longer being pushed away in defiance, with your hands covering your mouth as you stared back at him like you were having a hard time seeing him.

A shimmering caught his attention and for the first time, he noticed the ring on your left finger. The edges on his vision started to go dark, and as the possibility of what that meant hit him, he no longer felt or saw anything at all.

_________

He had been unconscious for three days.

A training accident, the doctor had told him, and a nasty ejection that involved not only slamming into the canopy, but into the plane itself. He was unconscious before he ever hit the ground, but his parachute had done its job on at least getting him there. More broken ribs than intact ones, a collapsed lung, more cuts and bruises to add to the regular collection, and a skull fracture and swelling on his brain that explained his massive headache and his apparent lack of memory.

Four years of his life.

Four. Years.

Somehow, though, that wasn’t the most shocking thing he had heard since regaining consciousness.

The woman in the room was his wife. You were his wife and he didn’t remember you. But he knew you. He knew that he knew you. He could feel it in his aching bones when he looked at you.

It took a long time for the two of you to be alone again. A nurse had been in the room when he next woke up and the doctors quickly followed to explain all that had happened to him. He had almost immediately been rolled away for a variety of testing, poking and prodding. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but by the time he made it back to his room, there was no natural light filtering in through the windows anymore, and the ward itself was a little bit quieter. It must have been late.

You gave him the smallest of smiles from the chair next to his bed as the nurse who brought him back made sure all of his monitors were hooked up properly. She explained a few things to the both of you, seemingly unfazed to be sharing his medical information with someone he didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter, though. Because you’re his wife, and it’s your legal right to have this information.

When Nurse Anne finally left, the two of you simply stared at one another. The air felt awkward, taught with unfamiliar tension. It settled over the room for a moment before you cleared your throat. He tried not to focus on how you were playing with the ring on your finger, twisting it around with your thumb.

“How are you -“

“I don’t know your name.”

He didn’t mean to blurt out the words, especially when it cut off whatever you were about to ask him. But the thought has been going through his mind since you had asked him when he first woke up what must be hours ago now.

He had hoped for a revelation when you told him. Your name bounced around in his head, searching for something. But the only thing he found was disappointment when nothing hit him.

He was tired and wanted to go to sleep. Even with the pain medication continuously dripping through the IV, his whole body hurt, but he couldn’t, now. He was desperate to speak to you. He wanted to make some sort of sense of this mess, but part of him, some part he was no longer familiar with, also just wanted to hear your voice again.

“How…how long have we been married?”

“Three years,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. It seemed that all he’d made you do since he woke up was cry. Bradley could tell that you were holding yourself together with all the strength you could muster. He admired you for that. You must have realized quickly that he was distracted or that the math was hurting his still aching head, so you followed up by explaining you had only been dating for four months before he proposed, and had been married by month six.

Despite all the confusion and both the physical and mental hurt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “You were crazy enough to say yes after four months?”

You laughed, and oh, he thought, that’s a beautiful sound.

“You definitely aren’t the first person to accuse me of that,” you revealed, though it didn’t come as much of a surprise because it made sense. Meeting and marrying in half a year was intimidating, and a bit insane in his eyes. He had always been slow to trust and even slower to love. He wondered about those first four months and what they must have been like to inspire him to propose, but instead of asking, he took the quiet that came over the room as an opportunity to just…look at you. There was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain as he does.

Your hair was pulled back loosely at the base of your neck, more than a few pieces falling out of the hold the band had on it. You were in plain black leggings and an oversized Eagles sweatshirt that threatened to swallow you. In the back of his muddled mind, he questions if it was his, or if you maybe shared his enjoyment for the sport and team. Your skin was blotchy and your eyes were puffy from all the tears.

You looked as exhausted as he felt, but you were still so, so beautiful. He doesn’t know if he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful, in fact. It was the first thing he had thought when he woke up the first time, and his opinion hadn’t changed.

“This must be really overwhelming for you,” you said after a few minutes of silence. He could sense your nervousness rising and noticed how you were rubbing your rings again - he wondered if it was a tell of yours all the time. “I don’t - I don’t want to make that worse, so I - I can go, if you’d like me to.”

“Go?” he questioned. Something that felt like panic flickered inside of him. He doesn’t think he likes that idea.

“Yes. If you wanted to be alone. Or I could - I guess I could have someone else come stay with you?” You looked like you dreaded the idea of it, but he knew you would do it if it was what he wanted, and wasn’t that something? He had never had someone who would willingly put themselves through hurt if it made him feel better. Your last question raised one of his own, though, and he couldn’t help but ask.

“Have you…been here the whole time?”

“Of course,” you whispered with a nod. You leant forward in your chair like you were going to grab his hand but stopped yourself at the last second. You were still rubbing the rings on your left hand as you considered the words you were going to say.

“I had to have my gallbladder removed last year,” you spoke again after a moment. His eyebrows furrowed, searching for a memory and coming up short. He didn’t know where you were going with this. “I was at home when I started getting these really bad pains. I would have thought it was my appendix, but I had that removed when I was a kid. After the pain didn’t go away I decided I should probably go to the hospital. I knew you were in the air that day so I left you a voicemail and sent you a text about what was happening. They had just put me in a room after running a few tests to figure out what was wrong when you came crashing in, demanding to talk to a doctor about what was wrong with me and then demanding to know why I wasn’t already in surgery if my gallbladder was so inflamed and infected that it was causing me as much pain as it was. I was in the hospital for less than 24 hours but you were there the whole time, holding my hand. Then you took time off work so that you could stay at home with me. For the first few days, if I did anything more than lift the tv remote or turn the page in my book, you were stopping me so that you could do it yourself. You were so worried about me.”

He could feel it then. It was a strange sensation, really. He didn’t know you. His mind couldn’t produce any memories of you, but the thought of something happening to you, of something having happened to you, made him worry. He felt protective of you and you weren’t more than a stranger to him right now.

“I say all this to say, Bradley, that if the roles were reversed, if I were the one in that hospital bed, I know exactly where you’d be, too. Because you have been. It doesn’t matter how big or small. I know you don’t remember but…that’s…that’s who we are, okay? There’s nowhere else I’d have been but right here by your side.”

Your words hit him harder than he expected them to. He didn’t really know how to respond. He couldn’t make sense of all of this.

“I think I want you to stay,” he whispered, almost afraid of the words.

This time, you didn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. You settled your hand over his and squeezed gently. And though you didn’t let your touch remain for more than a moment, the brief interaction spread warmth through the area.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

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

Part Two :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: Thank you for reading! Your feedback is so important to me. Please let me know your thoughts and if you're interested in more of this being posted :)

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #alli writes

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chloeangelic · 9 months

Text

Reflection of the Moon,

Ch 6 - Eyes on me

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

Series summary: An affair and resulting pregnancy with Joel in post-outbreak Jackson forces you both to reflect on what it means to forgive.

Chapter summary: You and Joel settle into your new roles and your new routine.

Warnings: Smut, age gap (reader is 28, Joel is 52), ass play, fingering, pregnant sex, creampie, fluff, extreme domestic vibes.

Word count: 4.5k Rating: 18+ AO3

A/N: This isn't very long, but it's my favorite chapter so far. I love when Joel is hot and overbearing and I love their dynamic.

All Joel seems to do is work; work to contribute to the community in Jackson, work to make his house a safe place for a baby, and work for your forgiveness, for your love, for you to let him be a present father, a good partner, even a husband if you let him propose to you. He made you promise to let him take care of you, feed you, keep you company, walk you places - overbearing already, not even a new father yet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The thought of you having a lack of anything makes him incredibly stressed, incredibly worried and incredibly distracted when he’s out on patrol. He desperately needs to know that you have every little thing you need, whether it’s a safe home or a snack in your bag or a sweater to wear or someone to keep you warm at night. The same routine every morning you leave his house, your lunch, your books, socks, sweater, keys, and you’re coming over for dinner, okay? Come straight here when school’s out and if you ain’t here by five, I’ll come lookin’ for you.

And when you arrive at his house fifteen minutes late, saying you ran into Abby and Owen and got to chatting; the roll of his eyes, his head shaking, ”Out of control little lady, always got me worried about you”. You roll your eyes at him back, muttering helicopter husband, smoothing your hand down his shoulder while you look at the food he has cooking on the stove. His hand comes up to grab your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him with innocent eyes, batting your eyelashes and stifling a giggle. If you were a good girl and did as you were told, I wouldn’t have to be overbearing, would I now?

“It’s more fun when you chase me around,” you say, twisting and turning in his grip so you lean your back into his chest, and his hand falls to your stomach, rubbing his palm over your steadily growing bump and running his nose up and down the side of your neck, oh, I bet. You grab the spatula to free up his other hand, and stir around the pan a little, chuckling to yourself, “Imagine how hard your life will be when there’s two of me running around you gotta keep track of.” Don’t remind me, you hear him mutter into your skin, followed by a huff of a laugh.

Then, after a moment, “You know I’m gonna be the happiest man in the world, right?”, he whispers, and you can hear a little hint of a sniffle as he buries his face in your hair.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re fucking crying again, Joel,” you say, trying to sound surprised, annoyed, anything but painfully familiar with how much of a sap this man truly is.

You try to turn around to face him, but his strong arms have snuck under yours and wrapped around your belly, his face dug into the crook of your neck now, not letting you turn around, leaving you to no option but to stand there for a while, running your fingers through his hair, letting your nails drag through his beard on the way down as he kisses your jaw.

Despite having your class schedule written out and hanging on his fridge, Joel somehow manages to interrupt another few classes to drop off your lunch, his inability to remember when your lunch break is, now resulting in your students asking for Mr. Joel quite frequently, and being overjoyed when he comes in the door once again. You wave him in, reaching your hand out and tapping your fingers together like a crab, gimme gimme, gesturing at the lunchbox in his hand.

He seemed shy, very shy, the first two times he came in, but he seems to have softened over the last little while, opening up more and more, unable to hide his smile when the kids remember his name. You figure you might as well take a breather, and open the box on your desk to see a stack of pancakes, a little container of syrup, and a set of cutlery neatly wrapped up in a little cloth.

“How about-” you start to say as you drizzle the syrup, not paying your students or Joel any mind at all, smacking the tips of your fingers when you’re done pouring, “You all ask Joel anything you want, and I’ll sit here and eat my lunch."

And so you sit there, listening to their questions and his stories, enjoying your pancakes and looking up at this man, this beautiful and caring and responsible man, who is so good with children and teenagers, so attentive and patient and interested in everything they have to say. It makes your heart flutter and twist around itself, your baby refusing to stay still while you try to eat.

The girls in the front row, gossipy little chicks, giggle and look at you, then at Joel, then back at you, mocking you a little for how longingly you look at him. You don’t care, you could spend your entire day looking at him and listening to him talk, let his voice and his laugh fill your ears over and over. Your heart is about to burst when he tells a dad joke, a really shitty one, finally welcoming the role so warmly, excited about being a father again.

It comes especially close to bursting when he walks you home and those same little students from the interrupted classes come up and tug at his jacket, wanting to tell him a joke, or a little story, about them or the class or their family, talking to him as if he were their uncle.

He crouches down and entertains them as you stand and watch, hear him laugh as they say, “My dad thinks you're scary but I think you're very nice, Mr Joel.” Despite his size, despite his grumpy demeanor, most of the time, and his ability to be downright terrifying, he is so, so gentle with them, speaking in a voice you’ve never heard from him, one that makes your insides melt, verging on cooing as he speaks the youngest ones.

“Why are you such a dad?”, you ask as you walk away from the school, your hand locked in his, keeping you warm.

He shrugs, a careful smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “It’s all I know how to be."

Jesus, he mutters as steps inside, looking at himself in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair. “You mind givin’ me haircut?”. he asks, “I got scissors in the bathroom somewhere.”

You rummage around in the bathroom and listen to him starting dinner downstairs, moving to his bedroom when you’ve ransacked the medicine cabinet and cupboards to no avail. Your rummaging efforts move onto the dresser, carefully sliding a large drawer open to see a stack of baby books, parenting books, probably thirty years old, twenty at best. You pick them up one by one, flipping through to discover his bookmarks near the end of all four of them.

Your eyes flutter closed and you take a few deep breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay as they press up against your waterline. He’s not leaving, he’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. You think it over and over, whisper it to yourself so you don’t forget. He’s here, and he’s not leaving, and he’s going to be there for you just like he said he would. He loves you and he loves your baby and he’s not leaving.

Realizing you have to get these books out of your field of vision before you start sobbing, you carefully stack them where they were and move onto the next drawer, finding the scissors immediately. As you walk down the stairs and see Joel in the kitchen, you fight the urge to throw yourself at him and tell him that you accidentally snooped and found the books, that you’re so relieved and happy you want to cry, that you love him so much and you forgive him and you don’t want to be away from him for as much as a day ever again.

So you snip the scissors a few times as you enter the room and point them towards a chair, motion for him to sit down and position yourself between his legs. You feel his hands sweeping up the back of your leggings as you comb through his hair, sliding up and along your curves and coming to rest on the sides of your bump, his thumbs tracing over his own flannel shirt that you’re wearing. You straighten out one section at a time and carefully cut it, letting it go to make sure it falls into a perfect arrangement.

You can see his eyes on you the entire time you're combing through his brown and silver curls, trimming them one by one and wrapping them around your fingers to lay them down. Neither of you say anything, the scratch of the scissors the only sound in the room as you furrow your brow in concentration and his eyes soften as he looks at you, the mother of his baby, the love of his life.

There’s no way of telling how much time is going by as you meticulously make your way through all of those thick, beautiful curls, but you hear Ellie’s door open and close, then open and close again through the window before you’re done. Thank you, mama he murmurs, and you don’t get the chance to say anything before he gets a little kick to this hand in response. You can’t help but giggle and close your eyes, flustered by your baby always giving you away when you try to play it cool with their father.

“You know I’ll do anything for you, right, angel?”, he asks with a serious expression as you put the scissors down. I do, you smile, your voice barely a whisper as you twist your fingers through his hair. “I’ll give you anything you need, anything you want, you just have to tell me,” he says as his hands find your hips, pulling you down into his lap and resting on your lower back.

You look at each other for a while, nuzzling your noses together, touching each other's hair, shoulders, and hands in silence before he asks, “Will you move in with me?”

“You want me to?”, you ask in a lousy attempt at being sneaky, feeling your heart flutter at his proposal.

“I know things aren’t a hundred percent between us and I don't want you to feel like I’m pressurin’ you to forgive me, I just- I want to at least try to be a family, us three, and Ellie," he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes your palms, pulling you closer, “We can share my bedroom, or you can even get your own, I- I just need you to live with me so I know you're safe, so I can feed you, so I’m there when the baby comes.”

You look at the little wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiles, and you avert your eyes in an attempt not to giggle. “And I know you're lazy with your meals on weekends,” he says with a chuckle, playing with your hair, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He carefully wraps his hand around your jaw, looks into your eyes and gives you a kiss, not letting go as you part.

“Will you?”, he asks, sounding on the verge of concern, “Please?”.

You nod as you snake your arms around him, whispering your answer into his ear, of course I will, I’d love to, and feeling him squeeze you gently in response.

You find yourself awake in the middle of the night, the moon shining outside the window and the house completely quiet. You shift around a little and try to get back to sleep, sticking your foot under Joel’s wide back as you lay on your side, hoping that the warmth of his skin will soothe you to sleep, but minutes go by and you feel awake as ever, prompting you to carefully whisper,

Joel? Are you awake?

Yeah, you hear from his side of the bed, before he shifts around, finding you under the duvet and pulling you into him, wrapping your leg around his hip and resting your head on his bicep. “Couldn’t sleep?”, he asks softly, brushing the hair away from your face and neck, and you shake your head in response. “Me neither,” he says, putting his arm around your back.

You lay there for a few minutes, looking at each other, scratching his beard with your nails and giving a few soft kisses to the underside of his jaw. His eyes are heavy with sleep but his attention is on you, and you can tell he won’t allow himself to sleep again until you’re peacefully knocked out in his embrace.

“What animal would you be in another life?”, you whisper, twirling one of his freshly cut, bouncy curls around your finger while he brushes your spine with his fingertips, tracing all the way up, then all the way down, over the curve of your ass and along the back of your thigh.

“Maybe a pistol shrimp,” he responds after a moment of reflection. A ridiculous answer from a ridiculous man.

“What the fuck?”, you mutter, trying to keep it down even though you’re the only two people in the house, “Why would you want that? Seems like a terribly meaningless existence." The room is relatively dark, but the moonlight shining through the window illuminates him enough for you to see the unamused expression on his face.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a shrimp,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “What’s the matter with you? Don't judge.” He tickles your side and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and tucking your belly into the softness of his stomach, your baby seemingly still asleep despite the sound and touch of their father usually eliciting a barrage of kicks.

“How do you think they feel, huh?”, he whispers into your ear, chuckling a little under his breath as the words leave his mouth, “Knowing some lady out there is wonderin’ why anyone would wanna be a shrimp?”

Weirdo, you roll your eyes and he rolls his back, mockingly.

“What would you be?”, he asks.

You take a moment to think, “I don't know… Maybe a raccoon, they're pretty cute.”

He nods a little, “You act like a raccoon.”

“Ah,” you gasp, trying to sound insulted but knowing he’s probably right.

“What?”, he gently takes your hand and squeezes it, rubbing his thumb into your palm, “Grabby little hands all over my fridge and cupboards, can barely keep snacks in there, they always get stolen somehow.” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to defend your not-so-subtle thievery.

“It could be Ellie,” you finally say, blinking and biting the tip of your tongue, trying to give him the most innocent eyes you can.

“She's an honest thief, unlike you,” he scolds with false severity, looking at you with piercing eyes.

“Respect my hustle, god damn it,” you whisper through your teeth, “I'm pregnant and constantly hungry, do you have any idea what that’s like?” Your baby starts kicking at that, and Joel laughs, calmly and deeply in his chest, kissing and chuckling against your hairline as he feels the little kicks to the the skin of his stomach. “Someone agrees with me” he says and starts rubbing your belly.

“Mama’s a real thief, isn't she?”, he murmurs, looking down between you and caressing the side of your bump. “Steals my snacks, steals my heart, steals all my time. But I’ll give her anything”, he looks up at you as he slides his hand over your asscheek and squeezes, “Anything she needs, I’ll give to her. Cause she’s my world, I’m not sure if she knows that.”

You maintain a shared gaze for a while, his hand still following the tiny kicks and his smile never leaving his face. You’re so in love with him, so lost in the feel of his warmth surrounding you, keeping you safe.

You run your hand over his thick shoulder, down his arm, feeling his muscles bulging out and the soft veins running on top of them. He’s so warm, like your own personal furnace, and his face is so soft, the wrinkle between his eyebrows merely a crease now, but the little lines by his eyes are more apparent than ever from how much he’s smiling. You card your fingers through his hair, seeing how his eyes flutter shut at your touch, before he opens them again and you can see the fire in them all of a sudden. “What do you need, mama?”, he asks with his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses up and down your skin.

“Just you, always you,” you purr as your hand traces up his arm to wrap around the back of his neck.

“I’m here, angel,” he whispers and rubs his nose against yours, “You gonna have my baby?”

Mhmm, you nod, keeping your face close to his. That’s right, he says under his breath, “You're so beautiful, I love seeing you like this.”

The hand on your belly finds the back of your head, his thumb reaching under your jaw to tilt your face up and back, letting him kiss you, letting him lick into your mouth deeper and deeper as you roll your hips along his thigh. He pulls you closer by your hips, and his hand moves down to the front of your panties, gently tracing along your seam, a little whimper coming from your throat, desperately pleading for him to touch you properly.

The sound clearly amuses him and he pulls down the front of the fabric just enough to slip his hand in and find your clit, starting to gently rub. “Feels good?”, he whispers as you dig your face into his neck, murmuring, very, as he finds the right spot and moves in slow little circles. He noses your hairline and your cheek as he dips into your opening, slides a single finger in, all the way to the knuckle, just to hear you whimper again when he retracts it, and uses your wetness to slide the pad of his finger around your clit, refusing to speed up despite your hips bucking and your moans getting more desperate.

“Calm down, baby, just relax,” he whispers, “Focus on your breathing. You’ll come, don’t gotta worry, just enjoy it.”

You take a deep breath and stop squirming, hear his voice in your ear, good girl, and just feel him gently rub you as your clit swells with arousal, getting more sensitive every time he gathers more slick and continues to stimulate you slowly.

“You’re gettin’ close, though, huh, baby?”, he murmurs, and you nod carefully, your eyes closed and your leg laying over his hip completely limp. It feels like every nerve in your entire torso is being stimulated, little waves of pleasure emanating from where he’s touching you, until you slowly reach your peak and your orgasm washes over your entire body, muscles tensing tightly then going slack and loose. Atta girl.

You pull back from the dark, warm space of his neck as he gently works his fingers inside you, and you kiss him softly, biting his bottom lip a little. “Will you fuck me now? Please?”, you plead, batting your lashes at him, “I did as you told me to, didn’t I?”

He chuckles a little as he slides your panties off and carefully opens your legs, removes his own boxers and places your leg back over his hip, teasing the head of his cock along your slit, lifting his head enough to watch your hips wind up against him.

“Eyes on me, angel, eyes on me,” he whispers as he wraps his hand around your jaw and angles it up, forcing you to look at him while he slides deep into you, hitting the very end of your pussy, watching your brows knitting and your mouth hanging open. He has you in a complete trance, his eyes dark as ever, somehow still visible in the low light of his bedroom, and you can’t look away as your gaze is lost in his.

You’ve never felt closer to him than you do now, completely wrapped up in him and filled by him, his overwhelmingly big and muscular body setting the pace, his thick cock rocking into you. You love being at his mercy, being soft for him and letting him touch and lick and rub and fuck any part of you he wants. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows just when he's hitting the right spot, when you're getting close, and when you need him to murmur filthy little words of encouragement to make you come.

Just like that, he praises as he grinds into you, angling his body so his pelvis rubs your clit. Your little nub has been aching and throbbing for attention again already, fucking hormones and the mere presence of this painfully gorgeous man, finally getting relief as you feel the pressure from his groin pulling at your skin and exposing the most sensitive part of you to him. His thick hair tickles your outer lips and the constant friction on your clit gets you closer with little whimpers of his name. He keeps grinding, holding your jaw and looking into your eyes until your pussy flutters around him and you start squirming, hearing the rumble in his chest while you come on him. Such a good girl for me, huh? he whispers, and you moan, long and drawn out and guttural, his name somewhere in the mix but barely coherent.

You muster up the energy to say what’s been on your mind since you woke up, what you’ve been meaning to tell him for a while now, since it dawned on you that he isn’t leaving, that he isn’t scared anymore, that all he wants is to be with you and be exactly what you and your baby need. There they are, right on the tip of your tongue, the words he’s been waiting to hear, falling from your lips while you take him deep inside you, suck him in and squeeze around him, I forgive you. I forgive you, Joel. He watches you as you ride the waves, his face softening as he cranes his neck down to whisper I love you so much, my angel, I’ll always love you, for the rest of my life and forever, I love you while you shake and tremble and dig your nails into his back. You murmur a weak I love you too before you turn into putty under him.

“Can- can you fuck me deeper?”, you ask in the form of an exasperated whisper.

“You always want me deeper, don’t you?”, he’s so amused. He pulls you close, splaying his large hand over the small of your back, caressing your skin with his thumb. You giggle, mhmmm, and he pulls out of you, then uses both hands to gently flip you over onto your hands and knees, running his palms along the length of your back, stuffing a pillow under you to make sure you’re comfortable, and pressing kisses all the way down your spine.

He slides back into you, smooths his hands across the globes of your ass while you adjust to the angle, and waits to hear you moan into the pillow before he speeds up, starting to pull your hips back onto him while he slams into you. He pauses for a second, spits a glob of saliva down onto your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb before slowly pressing his finger into you, hearing you groan in pleasure as he pushes it further in. The stretch and pressure makes your clit ache and your walls clench around him, whining for him to go faster, faster, please, while you bring your hand to yourself and start rubbing.

“Fuck, baby, so tight,” he groans, “Rub that little clit for me, lemme feel you come around my cock." You try to moan in agreement, an incoherent mess at this point as you touch yourself with a shaky hand, feeling his cock hit just the right spot over and over and over, making you arch your back to take him deeper, as deep as he wants. My beautiful, good girl, so pretty he coos, pushing his thumb a little deeper, and you’re close, speeding up your movements until you come with a violent, full-body jerk, your asshole fluttering around his finger, and collapse onto your chest, legs only held up by Joel’s arm around your hips, folding you in half.

“Can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, “The moment I saw you I thought you were the prettiest little thing I’d ever seen.” He squeezes the flesh of your ass with both hands, bending down to kiss between your shoulder blades while he sits back on his heels and pulls you into his lap, snaking an arm across your front to lift you up a little and wrap his hand around your throat while he fucks up into you slowly. You grab his thighs and lean your head back onto his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying how deep he is inside you, right where you crave him.

“You feel so good, baby, so good,” he whispers, grunting and groaning as he slides his hand down your belly, coming down to right above your mound and pushing into your bump. You move together, feeling the energy circulating between you as you tilt your head sideways and catch his lips in yours, panting into each other while he pistons into you. “You’re gonna make me come, my love,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you squeeze as much as you can around him while he gives you a final thrust, and his warm, smooth load fills you while his cock throbs and pulsates deep in you, his accompanying growl creating goosebumps all over your body.

“Are- are we together for real now?”, you ask with a hint of a laugh, “Can I call you my boyfriend?”

Joel scowls at you, smiling as she rolls his eyes. “I'm insulted if you haven't already,” he says, and you snort in response.

“What?” he asks, looking at your lips and back up at your eyes.

“I kinda already did… To my nosy students,” you admit, no louder than a whisper.

“Of course you did,” he mutters as he starts wrapping the duvet around you, “I’ll go make breakfast, just stay here till I come get you, okay, angel?”

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller x you

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matryosika · 5 months

Text

Haechan: Power Dynamics and Other Analysis

Wordcount: 1,058 words Genre: Smut, 18+ (mdni) Includes: Headcanons. Specific warnings under the cut. Author's note: This was a request! I normally don't take requests, but since I'm planning on writing something similar for the rest of the group, let me know if there's someone specific you'd like to read about! (I'm currently working on Johnny's). Please remember that this is just me free-associating for 1,000 words straight; therefore this is fiction and in no way I'm claiming this to be real. Please leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! Post divider used is by @/cafekitsune.

Warnings: There are some dubcon elements to this, as forced submission is mentioned. This headcanon includes a variety of slightly rougher kinks than my last analysis (read here), but I think the overall warnings for this would be for humiliation, degradation and masochism. Aftercare is described, paired with the mention of dom/sub drop (for Haechan).

He is the competitive type. And (un)fortunately, you're not exempt from this.

Haechan's thirst for control is fueled more by his inability to lose, rather than his liking for it.

He loves challenges, and I sense he can get bored easily of the same dynamic over, and over again. That's why I see Haechan going both ways, as a dominant and a submissive.

In quite a few words, he is a switch to his core. With that being said, I don't think he enjoys submission just for the act of submitting —he enjoys submission because it is a challenge.

Because, with the right partner, being in the submissive role will prompt him to fight for power again. And in said fight, anything can be possible —he strikes me as someone who enjoys forced submission a lot more than naturally submitting.

But rather than labeling him as a switch, dominant or submissive, I have something way better and precise: Haechan can be both a brat, and a brat tamer.

As a brat, he is insufferable (in the most delicious way). As a brat tamer, he can be really mean (again, in the best way). Haechan masters both roles because what he hates in brats, he displays it. And what he wishes from you as a brat tamer, he portrays it.

The need to tease, humiliate, as well as some degrading elements, are naturally engraved in this man: his very own way to get under your skin? Words.

During sex, Hechan doesn't need any sort of physical punishment to ruin you completely. With minimum effort, and just a couple of dirty words, this man is capable of getting deep into your head.

Slut might be his favorite word during rough sessions, both for you and him (but he won’t admit that out loud). He is also very passionate about pointing out how aroused you are: “I haven't even touched you and you're dripping down your legs, aren’t you embarrassed?”, “think you can come untouched? If you squeeze your thighs enough, you might. That's how much of a slut you are", among other things.

If he is in the mood for something a little bit more physical, I feel like he would force you to speak while having his dick or fingers inside your mouth, just for the sake of making you feel humiliated by your (failed) attempt to speak properly. Might even taunt you into crawling on all fours for him, too.

Now, apart from humiliation and degradation, I can't shake the feeling that Haechan is a masochist.

The idea of physically hurting you isn't that appealing to him, if he is being honest. But the idea of you hurting him? The mixture between pleasure and pain? Pushing his limits just to prove that his pain threshold is great? Hechan's competition is not only his partner in bed, but also himself. His favorite way for you to inflict pain is probably overstimulation, followed by impact play (specifically face slapping).

With all that being said, I think it's important to highlight that reassurance is very important for him —hearing you saying he did well it's not a want but a need.

Haechan is naturally sensitive, so I kind of feel he might fall into a sub/dom drop after each session if the aftercare is neglected (which it shouldn’t! You all know the drill, because aftercare is important after every sexual session, whether it's rough/bdsm-related or not!) However, aftercare with Haechan needs to be really cautious and tender. A lot of physical touch involved (like cuddles and pettings) paired with words of affirmations: “I liked it a lot when you [said this, when you touched me like that, etcetera]”, “you did really good”, “I love it when you [do this, act like this, etcetera]”. Knowing you enjoyed everything as much as he did is crucial for him, and will help him get into a healthy after-state.

In exchange, he does the same for you. The way he provides aftercare is heavenly, and it balances out whatever happened during sex.

As I said before, Haechan is sensitive, and may get emotional easily. Other than his sexual persona, I honestly think he is very nurturing and protective of you. His love is sweet and tender, and there's no one in this world he trusts more to show him what he really likes, and what really arouses him.

His love for you is one that resembles complicity —you do it all together and work together (despite the power dynamics saying quite the opposite). Haechan is a sucker for trust and what's familiar, so he feels really comfortable experimenting with the same partner over and over again.

And the possessive aspect within him is quite different from Mark. Rather than him proving himself that you belong to him, Haechan needs to be sure that he belongs to you. That you're constantly choosing him, every day. That you want and need him, and that he has something only he can give you.

Apart from words of affirmation, physical touch is really high on his love languages list. Hugs, kisses, hand-holding and other forms of petting are to be expected from him. During sex, these displays of affection can be just as rough because of the heat of the moment, but the meaning behind them it's no different than those during a non-sexual context —Haechan needs to feel all of you in all the ways he can.

Not only that, but it's his own way to communicate without having to use any kind of words. From maintaining eye contact, to holding his hand tight when things start to escalate a bit, mapping and knowing your body language and expressions is a big deal for him.

On that note, his gaze speaks way more than his lips do. And it is such a pretty sight how much he can communicate with them.

From lust and pain to compassion, I think it's baffling how pretty his eyes are.

How they say exactly what he is feeling, rather than what he is thinking. Haechan can call you all sorts of names and humiliate you in all the ways that you let him, but his gaze will betray him every time: underneath all that roughness, there's a paralyzing and intoxicating adoration for you.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #kpop smut #donghyuck smut

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horsegirlwarcrimes · 22 days

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if your still doing the fic-wip thing, i would love to know about the YQY and SQH De-Aged Fic or the shen yuan transmigrats into YQY fic.

i also really loved the two YQY and Zhúzhī Láng adventure snippets u posted🩷🩵

ahh thank you so much!!! ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ

theres another bit of this fic here with a description, but here's a later scene! this fic is everything to me yall are making me so excited to finish it

"You're Shen Qingqiu." The boy exclaimed, eyes wide. "How do you know that name?" "Wow, you look just like I imagined! Haha… ha." His laughter trailed off and he lifted a hand to thread into his shorn hair and tugged tightly. His voice took on a sharp quaver. "That's it, I've really gone insane, huh?" Shen Qingqiu turned to Mu Qingfang. "How could he know that? Shang Qinghua was older than I was when I joined the sect. I wasn't named Qingqiu until years later." Mu Qingfang knelt by the side of the bed. He had a way of making himself softer, nonthreatening, that annoyed Shen Qingqiu both for the saccharin quality of the affectation and, privately, his own inability to immitate it. One might catch more flies with honey, but Shen Qingqiu has only ever had vinegar in his arsenal. The young Shang Qinghua didn't seem comforted by it, and leaned away warily as Mu Qingfang settled next to him. "Do you know where you are, Shang-gongzi?" he asked. The young Shang Qinghua swallowed. "If he's supposed to be Shen Qingqiu, then this is Cang Qiong Mountain, huh?" The doctor nodded. "Yes, that's good. You remember entering the sect then?" "Entering the—no! What is this, some—some isekai shit? Into my ideas? This—this isn't real. I'm hallucinating." "You know who we are and where you are, what makes you feel it must be a dream?" "This isn't real. You're not real, Cang Qiong isn't—Shen Qingqiu isn't real. He's just a character I thought of, I haven't even written it down yet." "A… character?" "Yeah, you know." The boy bunched his hands up in the thin blanket and looked down at his lap. They were trembling. "Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qi, Yue Qingyuan. Two slave boys who are seperate when they're children, and fight their way back together at Cang Qiong mountain and become top cultivators. But there's like, you know, drama and stuff."

#welcome to my 'sqh wrote qijiu's plot first' agenda #svsss #this project needs a name...#qijiu #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #mu qingfang #scum villain #scum villain's self saving system #svsss fic #scum villain fanfic #sqh #mqf #sqq #sj #burywrites.pdf #askbox #buryspeaks.mp3

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onakomiyaki · 14 days

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just a silly crush (not) pt. 1.5

pairing: daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader ; lewis hamilton x reader (implied, platonic relationship)

summary: even after two decade of constant battle with his own silly first love slash crush and manage to almost win the fight, you're still the one who manage to knock the breath out of him. and yet, here you are, still oblivious to his feeling.

this is set in 2021, so papaya daniel :D.

warning: unedited and rushed work (I GOT INSPIRED AFTER TWO CANS OF REDBULL RAAAAAAHHHH), harsh words, childhood trauma (kinda), slowburn.

consider tonight's meeting (and reconciliation) a huge success, totally worth the money you spent on the party. one of perks of being the daughter of david brabham is that your can splurge on unimportant things; this party, for example, and your father won't even bat an eye.

and maybe the fact that you are one of high paid supermodel–plus an actress so you don't think about money that much.

"(y/n)!"

you turned your body, eyes lit up at the view of the mighty sir lewis hamilton.

"what took you so long?" you asked, hugging the brit as he kiss your temple.

for some people lewis's gesture might be mistaken as love-like affection. but of course you know that it is not like that at all. lewis had always see you as his annoying little sister who he love dearly and you saw him as the big brother you never had. while you do have a younger brother, sam, things with you and lewis are just... different.

"if i say traffic, would you believe me?" he sheepishly said.

and to that you let out a dry–mocking–laugh. "really? traffic? here in monaco?" you said.

"alright alright. i might–i said might–met binotto." he stated, letting out a sigh.

"mattia binotto? that's-"

"ferrari's current principal, yes." he nod, hands snug inside his pockets.

"they want you. interesting." you said, fingers cradling your own jaw. although you hate formula one, you being the daughter of david brabham of course would know a thing or two. including all the current principals of all 10 teams.

lewis let out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulder. "maybe."

what is not so smart of you is your inability to figure out about daniel's hints and feeling for the past 10 plus years. maybe more, lewis believe.

you rolled your eyes at his attic, shaking your head at his secretiveness. he won't be able to keep any secret from you, you're too smart for that. and lewis is aware.

he always notice how daniel's eyes always lights up when he saw your instagram posts, or your appearance at the latest fashion magazine. he even rambling non-stop at your first big screen debut in 2017, not only to his teammate max, but to almost all the driver on the grid. almost, because most of the drivers are just confused and was there to humor the aussie. sebastian vettel though–god bless that man–always there for him, sharing the same excitement even cheering him up.

he also remember how dejected he looks when your father visited one of the race in 2015, hoping that you would show up beside your father despite your hatred towards the sport. but instead, he saw sam, your younger brother, calmly walking beside your father.

"have you talk to him yet?" he asked, averting the conversation about his meeting with binotto.

so it is safe to say he knew it all too well. and he honestly feel sort of sympathy for both you and daniel.

"that, i have." you simply said, grabbing two glass of champagne passed by the waitress.

lewis gracefully accept the other glass and clinked his glass with yours. "and how it goes?"

you went silent, gnawing your bottom lip nervously. "it went... well." you said, voice unsure.

"oh?"

"he asked me to watch the race. in monza." you stated.

lewis nods, letting out an acknowledgement hum as he sip his champagne.

"you should come, (y/n). its been 10 years since his first race, and yet, you haven't attend any of them in person." he simply stated.

"well i did watch the race from my house in monaco." you muttered. lewis shaking his head to your reaction.

"its not fair for him, you know? you guys are best friend for almost 20 years now, you said it yourself."

yeah, bestfriend. he thought.

you went silence, eyes trailed down to the floor. the expensive marble beneath your louboutin heels seems more interesting than lewis now, and he notice.

"i just don't want you to live in regrets in the future, (y/n)" he said, patting your shoulder as he walk away from you–giving you some space to think about what he just said.

"i know lewis." you whisper to yourself.

daniel, who currently enjoying his alone time at the bar, was greeted with a familiar figure walking towards him. he fix his posture, sitting straighter as the figure sat beside him and he watch in silent.

"let me join you for awhile, mate." he said.

"lewis."

"honeybadger."

hearing his nickname make daniel chuckle. thanks to you who actually give him that nickname years ago, back when you and him still go karting together, it stuck with him. and honestly he don't mind. because it was given by you.

"no company?" lewis simply asked.

"well, i was dragged by the ferrari duo, little lando, and the lovebird but they are gone now." daniel explain, politely asking the bartender for another refill.

"the lovebird?"

"max and kelly."

"ah, yes... the new hot couple." lewis nods, flashing his charming smile at the younger driver.

"yeah, i don't want to be a thirdwheel or dancing with dj norris and his two minions so here i am." he said, returning the smile to his senior as he pointed at the dj podium where lando is already getting on. carlos and charles was dancing like a maniac with drinks on their hands.

lewis raised his eyebrows, genuinely shocked and impressed at the young brit secret talent as a dj. "never knew little lando is a party animal." he said.

"i might be the one who responsible for that–to be a party animal i mean." daniel chuckled, shaking his head.

"well, he learn from the best then." and with that both daniel and lewis share a laugh, clinking their glass together.

as daniel enjoy his 3rd? 4th? glass of whiskey that night, lewis give him a small pats on his back. and daniel, confused at the gesture, watch lewis with a small frown.

"you have the patience of a saint, daniel. i won't last that long if i were you," he said, finishing his drink. "i gave up after got rejected for a second date."

lewis's cryptic messages, plus the familiar tipsy feeling, make him confused even more.

"huh?"

"goodluck, mate. i am rooting for you." he said, flashing him a smile before walking away from him.

"what just happen..." daniel muttered as he finish his glass of whiskey and decided to join dj norris and the minions.

what a night...

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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astrum99 · 4 months

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I can’t stop thinking about angel anatomy.

How are they made? What are they made of? If we break them down limb by limb, flesh by flesh, molecule by molecule, would we find the same structures that echoes our DNA? The same stable, constraining carbon? The same heavy metals? The same blood that flows with life, with death? Are they made of the same stardust that echoed in me?

Do they have a brain? A large raw organ, fragile and limited, capable of complex imaginary hallucinatory mathematics with scheduled periods of unconsciousness to make up for the capacity? A liver and two kidneys? To distill the holy light from the contaminates of the polluting environments akin to a dialysis machine cycling the liquids within the veins? A spine that holds strong? Riddled with the same 33 bones and ridges and intervertebral disks and fluids and sensitive nerves and has a habit of bending over for tedious work? A stomach that stirs and shifts constantly? To hold food? Souls? Light? To churn and froth at the consumption of concepts? An appendix? This small unless thing that rests and nestles between the layers of warm, worm-like intestines? How many teeth do you have? How many fingers? How many knees? What is the shape of your nails? What is the colour of your esophagus? How deep are the socket of your eyes?

How fast does your heart beat?

Is it faster? Slower? Do you even have a heart?

Do you feel in the same way that I feel? The pressure of processed wood against my feet, the nagging buzzing of LED light above my head, the smell of faint smoke from a cooking disaster weeks ago. The sound of people laughing unruly in the distance, putting on a show in the TV program that no one watches. The dampness of the towel against my face. The pain of a needle sliding into soft flesh that gives way willingly to metal. The bruises blooming slowly, aching like love. The chirping of songbirds, the shape of cumulus clouds, the haziness of a morning fog that really stayed for far too long. The way that my mother worked around the hard peels of an orange with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, just to present the sweetest parts to me. The tenderness of a shoulder touching mine before stealing my blankets (again) with a giggle that indicated no remorse. The sluggish sunlight that sneaks through the shades just to press a kiss on my forearm. The sorrow and passion of the symphony on the last show on the last tour, followed by cheers and drunken (revered) confessions during the post-performance celebration at 3am in a random bar of a random city. The foot print of an animal in the first winter snow of the year, like a human pressing their hand print on to the cave walls, chanting I am here I am here I am here, chanting remember me remember me remember me.

Do you bear the shame of sacred inabilities as we humans do? Unable to see beyond the visible spectrum of light? Unable to distinguish the difference between wet and dry, only to assume based on temperature and texture? Unable to know if someone else was speaking of the truth? Unable to see inside someone’s mind? Unable to thread words in a way that completely gives you away like you intended to? Unable to turn back into a child and speak of love so easily? Unable to run forever and ever? Unable to peak into the veil beyond space and time and death? Unable to tell your pet that you’re sorry for making them take the awful medicine and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me? Unable to be remembered and recognized, at least not wholly, at least not without mistakes?

Do you ever feel the strangeness of existence? Why you? Why now? Why here? That sometimes it feels like the world is five degrees to the left and you are just out of sync enough to keep going. That sometimes you are so overwhelmed with the the giant coincidence that is the world so you weep uncontrollably at the wonder of it all. That you feel like suffocation as you dig into the earth with your bloody fingers because a bird hit your window and died and you didn’t know and you kneeled by it for an hour before realizing it wasn’t breathing.

It died so long ago. It won’t get up again. The first time you held a bird was its cold hard corpse. So small between your palms, so fragile. It’s feathers iridescent. You have never seen one so up close. It was the prettiest and the deadest thing you’ve ever touched. It feels like the world. It feels like a prayer. Do you understand?

Do you regret like me? Love like me? Despair like me? Do you dream like me? Pray like me? Cry like me?

How close are you?

Let me touch you.

Please, I have to know.

#reblog welcome #yea this is about Gabriel #I thought too hard abt his anatomy and my brain broke #fuck it im tagging #Gabriel ultrakill #ultrakill #what r u gonna do #restrain me?#ow owow oww stop hitting me stop hitting me #anyways yea I’d love to vivisect him #<- going insane #writing #godcore #angelcore #<- tags that I’ve seen ppl use for this kind of thing but let me know if inappropriate I can remove #az thoughts

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w-sss · 10 months

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✨HAPPY SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY✨

Heyo! I don't really often write any long posts and I don't know where to start, really. But this time I'm writing on a special occasion, Mystic messenger is now 7 years old now!

Well, first of all let me congratulate both the fans and Cheritz who gave us this wonderful game. Together we've been through meme moments, creative & traumatic moments, and we also overcame the rumour that the game would be taken off the Google play/Appstore and removed (really, do you guys know how much that scared the fandom? If anything, I think we're all looking forward to at least the 10th anniversary, and hopefully the subsequent ones if possible. Either way, prosperity to Cheritz! Thanks for surprising us all these 7 years with new artwork and more content. I just can't help but congratulate them because I'm sure that a lot of work has been done during these 7 years).

Secondly my first question after the whole 7 year anniversary thing beong announced was "how long have I been asleep?". Like yes, I've been in the fandom for probably about three years (because I remember that I caught out of all the existing anniversary screensavers only the one with cups, who remembers, remembers, and who knows, knows), but I am pleased and pleasantly surprised by the fact that the guys continue to release some content after 7 years!!!! (by the way, I like the style of the new artist, so native, so canonical, in my opinion (P.S. I love all the artists who drew screensavers and all the rest of the artwork in the game, I just could not help but note the work of the new artist, they are very cosy in my opinion).

Thirdly, look who decided to participate in an event from Cheritz for the first time ever (first time in 7 years. I've actually made attempts to participate, but you know my boneheadedness (you probably don't, because like I said, I don't write long posts often) and inability to catch up and post everything in time)? I did, of course. But I didn't find in their tumblr post the template they mentioned (I just don't use twitter (it doesn't work in my country and surprisingly it doesn't work with a VPN either), maybe the template is there), nor information about whether I should post my email or account info here... Just in case I suddenly get lucky....

Oh well, what else can I say in conclusion? I present to you Saeyoung (crying, from happiness of course) and MC in her wedding look (lol, I look similar to her in real life (I even have a meme on this topic that I'll probably post later), so I guess you could say I'm killing two birds with one stone (proverbial, no killing)). I'm glad that I was finally able to accurately portray 707 the way I imagine him in my head.

And I congratulate all of us once again on the anniversary (and on the party theme, which if not everyone, then every third person was looking forward to, I believe ;) ).

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odessa-castle · 11 months

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I'm bouncing around a larger post about Nishiki and the mortifying ordeal of being known, but in the meantime I'm thinking about Nishiki and Kiryu and how the clothes make (or don't make) the man. Like, beyond my visceral horror that Kiryu begged Nishiki to pick out a safe and boring suit for him in Y0 and then said he was envisioning something purple with gold stripes.

I'm thinking about Nishiki's incredible sensitivity to image and his need to control how he's perceived. I'm thinking about Kiryu's inability to let go of the past. I'm thinking about how KIryu dresses like who he thinks he is, and Nishiki dresses like who he thinks he wants to be.

There's some interesting incidental dialogue between Nishiki and Kiryu in Y0 while they're en route to the men's suit store. I wish it wasn't so easy to miss, because there's a lot to unpack here. (I'm just transcribing the English in-game subtitles here; I don't speak Japanese so I have no idea how loose vs. direct the localization is in this part.)

NISHIKI: …now that I think about it, you've been dressing like an old man since we were kids. KIRYU: Have I? NISHIKI: Yeah. The few times we got to pick our clothes, it was always like, "you're choosing THAT?" NISHIKI: I wouldn't say you're a plain guy…You'd pick shirts with weird prints though. KIRYU: Guess I forgot all that. It's weirder to me that you haven't. NISHIKI: Well, confession time. You're why I started caring about fashion. I swore I'd never go out dressed like you. KIRYU: Come on, I'm not THAT bad. [we have already discussed why kiryu is, in fact, that bad.] NISHIKI: [laughing] Aww, did I hurt your feelings? NISHIKI: Well, this time you've got me with you. I'll see my bro gets taken care of. KIRYU: Heh. What an honor. NISHIKI: Leave it to me.

Nishiki doesn't bring up Sunflower Orphanage much; when he does share memories of his childhood, those memories are kind of painful (see: "do orphans not get to dream?"). Kiryu's surprised that Nishiki remembers how they dressed as kids, but it makes sense that wearing a limited selection of hand-me-downs stuck with Nishiki so strongly. His clothes announced his poverty, and they weren't even his -- he had to share them with the other orphans, so what he wore showed he belonged to yet another stigmatized group. And I'm sure people picked up on those visual signals, especially other kids. Kids can be vicious, and appearance is an easy and immediate target! We don't know for sure how young Nishiki interacted with his peers and teachers, but given what the Morning Glory kids go through in Y3 (and given, like, everything about Nishiki), he probably didn't have a great time.

Kiryu frames his childhood as poor but loving, and places much more emphasis on the latter. There might be some rose-colored glasses at work there -- let's look at the flashback where Kazama tries (and fails) to violently dissuade Kiryu and Nishiki from joining the yakuza.

KIRYU: I owe you everything, but this isn’t about that. [...] We’ve looked up to you for all this time. Your car. Your confidence… The way everybody bows to you. We idolized you. I want that life, too. Is that so wrong!?

Nishiki doesn't really speak in this flashback, but like, Kiryu uses "we" enough for us to draw some obvious conclusions about Nishiki's own motivations. That being said, I don't think Kiryu's being dishonest or disingenuous when he describes his childhood as happy, and himself as well-loved. He's not ashamed of his upbringing, and he doesn't hide where he came from. Nishiki seems to have the inverse view. It's not that he doesn't love (at least some of) the people he grew up with, but what comes up first for him is what he didn't have. He didn't have money. He didn't have respect. He didn't have a cure for his little sister. He didn't have a lot of choice, right down to the clothes he wore.

(There's a whole other essay here about why Kiryu's and Nishiki's perspectives diverge on this, but I'm trying to limit the scope of this post. Suffice to say that, while I don't think game canon gives a timeline, I do think Nishiki was a little older when his parents were killed -- old enough that he actually remembers them, at least.)

The same mindset fuels Nishiki's interest in fashion. Yeah, part of it is that he's ribbing Kiryu, but I think it goes deeper than Kiryu wearing ugly shirts. Nishiki doesn't want people to look at him and see what's missing. Fashion isn't a means of personal expression for him, really. It's a message. It's the interplay of knowledge and resources and presentation: knowing what clothes read as successful and trendy and expensive, being able to afford those things, and convincing people that your successful important outfit makes you a successful important person. And he's not wrong about the social dimensions of fashion.

NISHIKI: Try sporting a suit that runs 500 grand for once. Trust me, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. KIRYU: Fashion’s not my thing. Besides, Kazama-san never wore flashy clothes. NISHIKI: You do realize he’s the family captain, right? Number two in the whole Dojima operation? You get to that level, you can wear whatever you damn well please. But for the rest of us, “flashy” is part of the business. KIRYU: So that fancy new car you bought was just “business”. NISHIKI: Yeah, and that fancy lighter of mine, too. Which you still haven’t given back. KIRYU: You want to play the rich guy, quit being so stingy. NISHIKI: But you get what I’m saying, right? People see the expensive car, the designer jacket, and the gleam of that little Dojima pin, they pay attention. A yakuza’s only as good as his image. [...] Take your buddy today. These squeaky-clean idiots, borrowing money just to blow on tits and booze… Nobody in this town gives a crap about substance. What you see is what you get.

That's our first take on one of the major themes of the game: what does it mean to be yakuza? Again, there is truth to what Nishiki's saying here, particularly in terms of the ethos of the eighties. I'm not an expert on the bubble era, but the worldbuilding in the game speaks for itself. People hail taxis with 10,000-yen bills. You punch money out of punks during random street battles. Nishiki keeps a personal bottle of high-end booze at a bar he's visited twice, mostly because he "can’t stand being taken for a bum." The act of spending is important, not what you're spending it on.

Nishiki's outfit in Y0 is perfectly suited (heh) to that outlook. And look, I might be inviting controversy here, but in context, I think it's a werq. Yes, it's loud. But the silhouette -- squared shoulders, single breasted, thinner peaked lapel -- is right on trend for the time period, and it fits him well. The colors look good on him. The bold pattern (no, it's not animal print) under the solid maroon is a risk, but he pulls it off. And excess aside, he knows when to pull back on the accessories. It's bright and confident and memorable, and boy would Nishiki like to be all of those things.

Also -- and importantly -- Kiryu would never go out dressed like that. Because we can't talk about Nishiki and Kiryu without talking about Nishiki's Mt. Fuji-sized inferiority complex. Mastering image doesn't just make Nishiki stand out; it makes him stand out from Kiryu. Let's go back to the beginning of the game.

NISHIKI: I’ll admit, though, you’re finally starting to look the part. You make a pretty convincing yakuza. You’re done with collections today, right? KIRYU: Yeah. NISHIKI: Good. That should put Kazama-san’s mind at ease a bit. KIRYU: Heh, dunno about that. But he always knew all I could do is fight. You’re the one who’s good at the dance.

Nishiki then calls attention to the "rags" that Kiryu's wearing, which...is not an unfair assessment. (TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT, KIRYU. HEM YOUR PANTS.) As the two of them walk around Kamurocho, Nishiki offers Kiryu plenty of hot tips, from meeting girls to making big bucks to cozying up to the brass. But even when Nishiki's opining on his area of expertise, there's a competitive edge to it. "You asking me to pick out clothes for you means you admit you have terrible taste," he tells Kiryu on the way to the suit shop. Kiryu tells him to shut up, but there's no actual hurt behind it. Kiryu doesn't really care that his taste in clothes sucks. Fashion isn't important to him. Most of the things Nishiki knows so much about don't really matter to Kiryu. And that makes Nishiki feel more insecure! Because if Kiryu rolls out of bed looking like a yakuza, if Nishiki's image counseling sessions aren't helpful or meaningful, if Kiryu can skip the dance and get to the top on the strength of his fists and convictions, then who cares about Nishiki's 500 grand suit or his hourlong hair care routine? If image isn't what makes a yakuza, what does that make Nishiki?

At the end of Chapter 6, Nishiki tries to look out for Kiryu again -- this time, by granting him a merciful death before the Dojima Family drags him to the Hole. It's one of my favorite scenes in the game. Nishiki's crying too hard to aim the gun properly; Kiryu tells him to man up and shoot. Finally, Nishiki collapses.

NISHIKI: Can’t do it… How could I shoot you!? Without you, I’ll always be nothing. Can’t make it as a yakuza… No. I wouldn’t even still be alive now if I didn’t have you beside me! I’m just… If you’re not with me, I’m useless! Nothing means anything!

Mastering image hasn't granted Nishiki anything of substance. At the end of the day, Nishiki's playing dress-up, and he knows it.

And I'm almost certainly getting into overthinking-this territory now (if I haven't gotten there already), but I kind of like the spin this puts on Nishiki ripping his expensive suit off in Chapter 14 when he decides to fight the Dojima Family at Kiryu's side. Like yes, ripping off your outer layers to get at the naked (so to speak) truth -- your irezumi, and what it represents -- is just Yakuza Storytelling 101. It's decisive, it's kind of dumb, it's great, it gets me hyped every time. But I like that Nishiki's honest answer to "what does it mean to be a yakuza?" isn't about looking the part. I am genuinely trying not to end this paragraph by saying that Nishiki must become like a dragon, but like...you get where I'm going with this.

Of course, Nishiki's back to playing dress-up in Y1/Kiwami. I'm not the first to call the Patriarch Nishikiyama look a glow-down (though I like the patterned white tie). Like, fashion-conscious Nishiki would look good in a Hedi Slimane/Tom Ford-esque skinny black suit. But he picks a silhouette you'd expect to see on a much older man, torso-swallowing pants and all. The slicked-back hair doesn't help. He's just so transparently trying to look bigger and broader and older, and he doesn't pull it off. Big Bad Patriarch isn't a good look for him, in any sense of the phrase.

A final thought: Kiryu's clothes, and Nishiki's commentary on them, are the subject of their first conversation in Y0 -- and of their last. Kiryu's costume progression in Y0 is a pretty obvious commentary on his journey, to the point where Kiryu and Nishiki explicitly call attention to the color connotations in their final exchange. As a Dojima grunt, he wears black, and it doesn't look good on him because "brutish thug who keeps his head down and does what he's told" isn't a role he's comfortable with. He wears white when he works in real estate, but the change in color isn't enough to sell anyone on his transformation into a civilian. Although it's a little rich for Oda "Red Clown Shoes" Jun to chide someone for not wearing a proper suit. At the end of the game, Kiryu's in his classic grey suit, and well, the game spells it out:

KIRYU: I’m not feeling black or white these days. This is where I’m at right now. I chose it myself. I’m making it a fresh start. NISHIKI: Fine, fine. See if I care! Wear it the rest of your life!

Nishiki, dismayed, tells Kiryu that the grey suit already looks dated, but for Kiryu, "fresh start" doesn't mean "on trend". His image might be out of step with how other yakuza view themselves, or want to be seen, but if he's always going to look like a yakuza, he might as well stake his claim on what being a yakuza means. Still, it's telling that, even as a young man, Kiryu looks like a throwback to an earlier era. As the series progresses, the games hammer this home more and more. How many antagonists tell Kiryu that he's out of touch with the modern world, that he represents a version of the yakuza that no longer exists, that it's time for him to make way for the next generation?

"Wear it the rest of your life!" is a funny little in-joke, yeah, but...it's a little sad when you think about it, isn't it? Kiryu gets new outfits from Y3 on -- and in every game, he ultimately puts the suit back on and heads to Kamurocho. It's exactly of a piece with how Kiryu views being yakuza. We, and he, can debate the exact extent of his retirement from the Tojo Clan's affairs, but the yakuza isn't a career for Kiryu, it's a set of beliefs he carries with him. He wears the suit the same way he wears the dragon on his back: as an indelible part of his self-image.

#yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza meta #kiryu kazuma #nishikiyama akira #kazuma kiryu #akira nishikiyama #i've been poking at this thing intermittently for months but a certain tournament really got my mental gears going again #yakuza's just really fun to put under a microscope #i'm interested in the way the games do things even when i don't like what they do #(although to be clear i *do* generally like how rgg dresses its cast)#(even the outfits i make fun of are usually like...coherently delivering a statement about the character wearing them)#genuinely did not think i'd spend so much time writing this but hey #maybe i'll do these kinds of posts more than like...biannually...if they're sufficiently interesting #meta

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bloobluebloo · 2 months

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I’m actually disappointed Ganondorf nuke explosion death had no consequences on the land. A bomb just exploded in a giant beam of light. And nothing happened? No mountain cracked, not a single tree destroyed, no land was burned? At least give us a crater. An honorary Ganon crater, just for him. Forever imbedded into the earth

I HATE THAT THEY EXPLODED HIM FOR SO MANY REASONS-

I feel like exploding Ganondorf was such a hollow way to end his life. Apart from my issues around the fact that this nullifies everything we've learned about draconification after the game spent a couple of cutscenes reinforcing the permanency and immortality factor of the act, it just felt really annoying that it didn't apply to either Zelda or Ganondorf who are the main dragons of this story. (And before someone comes at me with the "oh what if dragons are immortal like lobsters are where they only die when they are killed" well, okay, then why spend so much time telling me, in several cutscenes, that dragons lose themselves and are immortal and it cannot be reversed? When it's emphasized that much the purpose is usually to reinforce that becoming a dragon is really *really* a permanent change, not that by the power of love and friendship and the gods hate Ganondorf that much that none of those rules apply)

Then, yeah! As you said! Ganondorf's explosion was of nuclear proportions! Fine, Link and Zelda are special and being right in the vicinity didn't vaporize them somehow (I guess another power of Rauru and Sonia is to pull Link into some pocket dimension to initiate their changing of Zelda back to herself or something), but the rest of Hyrule? The light from that explosion should cause eye damage in like half the population. There should be a huge crater or at least the land around him burned out of all greenery and living beings (which would at least leave a permanent legacy of what Ganondorf had intended to do). I guess we never get to really see Hyrule post-game anyways, maybe they would consider these things if we did (I highly doubt it because Hyrule's a magical place where specifically when the king of demons explodes in death Hyrule's blessed light prevents the land and its people from suffering any consequences).

(Okay fine change Zelda back to herself but also, she doesn't remember *anything* from being a dragon? Man these characters really go through everything with no consequences suffered at all! You blame Ganondorf for being mad?)

And finally, my problem really with it is how Ganondorf's death is sort of treated like...well like he was just in the way instead of a meaningful part of the story. In OoT, when you first "kill" him, Zelda acknowledges him in a show of pity, implying that he had reached a point that he just could not be saved from himself. When he is sealed away, you can see in his eyes and his face how Zelda's words about his inability to properly control his power really shows itself, having gone mad and swearing vengeance on their descendants. In Wind Waker, his final words are "The wind is blowing", perhaps alluding to what he had said previously, that the only winds he had ever felt were the winds of death, and here he is feeling it once more in death, having truly lost everything in that moment. In Twilight Princess, Ganondorf dies on his feet, the scene silent as Link and Zelda watch, as Zant cracks his neck, as Zelda bows her head once he closes his eyes. You don't have to *like * Ganondorf, but his deaths and his sealing left an impact on the player, mirroring the message and themes of the game. This just felt like "well, let's just get him out of the way quickly so we can move on to focus on Link and Zelda reuniting" which, look, I think that final fall where you dive for Zelda is epic, it gets me in the feels ngl. However, it just like, what does it say about the antagonist? What did he die for? Is he that callous and meaningless of a character that we just explode him and never acknowledge him again? That is a pretty painful way to die isn't it? I don't have all the words to convey my feelings but it just feels like, for a game that markets itself as the one that really integrates Ganondorf as a character and "solidifies his character" that it handled his death so poorly. He was as much as a whisper of a legend that he was when Link and Zelda went into the depths of Hyrule Castle by the end of the game and that just doesn't sit well with me.

#ganonthots

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unbidden-yidden · 7 months

Text

So here I am, unable to sleep again, because of the horrifying attack on Israel.

The stories keep coming out and for every new detail I find out, another part of my soul shatters.

[***massive trigger warning for the rest***]

I feel like I'm living in a parallel world to everyone who is not affected by this situation. It's been surreal to go about my work day and regular life as if the images of blood-soaked cradles, burned corpses, raped and wounded women, captives of all ages being taken away on vehicles, video of a small child being taunted for crying for his mother, body bags lined up in rows on the ground, torched cars and homes, and the raw grief of the surviving family members aren't burned onto the backs of my eyelids.

One account I read from a family member of the deceased was that she was beaten, raped in multiple ways and sticks shoved into each place, and left for dead. Another I came across spoke of a small child being forced to watch his parents tortured, killed, and hacked apart. Still another I saw was a report of several children bludgeoned to death so as not to "waste the bullets."

How can I possibly begin to process this?

These people look just like the people in my communities and the friends I've made across the sea. They have my Hebrew teacher's hair, my rabbi's cheekbones, they sound like the shinshinim kids we have each year. They look like the baby nephews of my fellow congregants. I could have davened next to any of them and never known. It is only sheer dumb luck that I don't personally know someone who has died or lost close family.

There has been a pit of dread in my stomach since Shimini Atzeret that will not go away. I find myself on the verge of tears at all times, yet have not been able to actually cry (which is not a good sign; an inability to express sadness in tears is a known post-trauma response for me) and I cannot rest normally. Sometimes I can distract myself for a bit, but the pain and grief rush back in immediately when I remember.

I can feel, in real time, this Jewish cultural trauma sinking into my bones.

And you might think I might be able to separate myself from it since I'm not there and don't have family there. But I can't, because I don't want to. I can't, because some tether bound me forever to the land as soon as my feet hit the ground there, and some part of my soul stayed behind when I left. I don't want to, because these are my people and so they are my adoptive family, even if I do not know them. I am my brother's keeper.

And so here I stand, half a world away from the danger, nervous and scared and grieving, searching our perfectly blue sky for signs of missiles that are not falling here and being startled constantly by the normal and unbroken landscape. The lush beauty of Midwestern autumn woods is juxtaposed in my mind with Middle Eastern walls painted in the blood of my people and their broken bodies beneath them. I see it in the waking light of day as clear as anything in front of me, and walk around like a person divided, in both places at once yet not being fully present in either. I cannot unsee it.

How can I possibly explain this? To myself? To the people actually having to live this nightmare? To the other people removed from the immediate physical danger but who do have blood relatives and/or other family there that they're just praying stay safe and come home at the end of the day? That they are constantly checking their phones for updates or even minimal signs that they're still alive?

The words fail me, but I the closest thing I have to an answer is love. I love my people and I would rather absorb this pain with them and carry it in my soul forever than look away from Jewish suffering. That is a promise I made by joining this people, that my fate would forever be bound up in the collective fate of klal Yisrael. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people, and your G-d my G-d. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus and more may Hashem do to me if anything but death parts me from you.

אַל־תִּפְגְּעִי־בִ֔י לְעׇזְבֵ֖ךְ לָשׁ֣וּב מֵאַחֲרָ֑יִךְ כִּ֠י אֶל־אֲשֶׁ֨ר תֵּלְכִ֜י אֵלֵ֗ךְ וּבַאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּלִ֙ינִי֙ אָלִ֔ין עַמֵּ֣ךְ עַמִּ֔י וֵאלֹהַ֖יִךְ אֱלֹהָֽי׃ בַּאֲשֶׁ֤ר תָּמ֙וּתִי֙ אָמ֔וּת וְשָׁ֖ם אֶקָּבֵ֑ר כֹּה֩ יַעֲשֶׂ֨ה יְהֹוָ֥ה לִי֙ וְכֹ֣ה יוֹסִ֔יף כִּ֣י הַמָּ֔וֶת יַפְרִ֖יד בֵּינִ֥י וּבֵינֵֽךְ׃

[רות א]

I do not take that lightly, and I feel it in my bones. Some core part of me shattered at the same time as the rest of my community.

I cannot, and I will not look away. I will not close my heart or shield myself from this tragedy. And I will not forget.

עַ֥ל נַהֲר֨וֹת ׀ בָּבֶ֗ל שָׁ֣ם יָ֭שַׁבְנוּ גַּם־בָּכִ֑ינוּ בְּ֝זׇכְרֵ֗נוּ אֶת־צִיּֽוֹן׃ עַֽל־עֲרָבִ֥ים בְּתוֹכָ֑הּ תָּ֝לִ֗ינוּ כִּנֹּרוֹתֵֽינוּ׃ כִּ֤י שָׁ֨ם שְֽׁאֵל֪וּנוּ שׁוֹבֵ֡ינוּ דִּבְרֵי־שִׁ֭יר וְתוֹלָלֵ֣ינוּ שִׂמְחָ֑ה שִׁ֥ירוּ לָ֝֗נוּ מִשִּׁ֥יר צִיּֽוֹן׃ אֵ֗יךְ נָשִׁ֥יר אֶת־שִׁיר־יְהֹוָ֑ה עַ֝֗ל אַדְמַ֥ת נֵכָֽר׃ אִֽם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵ֥ךְ יְֽרוּשָׁלָ֗͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּ֥ח יְמִינִֽי׃ תִּדְבַּֽק־לְשׁוֹנִ֨י ׀ לְחִכִּי֮ אִם־לֹ֢א אֶ֫זְכְּרֵ֥כִי אִם־לֹ֣א אַ֭עֲלֶה אֶת־יְרוּשָׁלַ֑͏ִם עַ֝֗ל רֹ֣אשׁ שִׂמְחָתִֽי׃

[תהלים קלז]

#personal post #not trying to claim that I am in any way affected at the level others are #most other people are way more directly affected than me and I don't intend this to take that focus away from them #this is more of a diary post than anything #but I'm posting it anyway because I suspect others feel similarly and I do think it's one (of many) conversations that should be had #ארץ ישראל #jumblr

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shadowofahope · 9 months

Text

Possibilities

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, aggressive alpha tendencies, swearing, near-death experiences, mentions of heat and suppressants

Pairing: Nonidol!Changbin/Nonidol!Minho x Reader

Premise: Omega Primes were rare, being forced to reproduce with other Primes. You never liked the idea of mates, forced or not. A runaway Prime, with two alphas to catch their fall and open up a whole new realm of possibilities.

Author’s notes: Soooo, I'm like secretly/not so secretly obsessed with both of these men right now. When I had originally written this I had no plans to post it, but here we are. Months later with the inability to let it go. I hope you enjoy it regardless! This was definitely written purely for me and my soulmate @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue to drool over💜

Word count: 8.8K

masterlist

“Chan when I say, hold your breath grab Felix and run. Don’t stop until you have Felix safe.” Chan nods to you, he might now know exactly what your plan was but he knew as well as you did that you both had to get Felix out of there.

“What are you thinking y/n? We can’t leave you here.” Felix huffs, his breath getting harder to release from his lungs. Chan holds him up, arm under his shoulder keeping him close.

“I’ll be fine Lixie, I’ll catch up Yea?” You give him a reassuring smile, followed by a wink. Focus still on the hoard of Alphas that had unfortunately followed Felix on his attempt to escape.

“Y/n-“

“Now chan!”

You hear him inhale deeply before he’s holding it, grabbing Felix hand and see them dart forward. Heading towards the exit from the roof.

In an instant you release your pheromones. Inducing your own heat.

All alphas that had followed Felix up to the roof had now turned on you. Now forgetting about the preheat omega.

Releasing a ragged breath, lungs thick with hot air. It’s like you can feel every bone in your body, every inch of your skin triggered by electricity. Your clothes feel itchy against your heated flesh.

You barely register the door reopening, this time without the receding Alpha and Omega, but in a mere blink 2 new alphas had joined the swarm. You’d roll your eyes if you could.

Fucking Alphas.

It’s only a matter of time before one of them advances on you, in any attempt to pounce and take you. Take you as the others join in. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine. The saliva in your mouth is feeling too much now.

You take a step back on sinking legs. Taking a distracted moment to peer behind you. 10 stories, you could make that…well uninjured wasn’t likely but at least you would be away. You’d need at least a few hours to be able to reel in your heat. Your foggy mind reminds you to stay focused on the alphas in front of you, which would normally be your most pressing issue however in your escape-deciding thoughts the two new alphas that have joined late are now directly standing in front of you.

And they’re snarling in the direction of the swarm. That’s when your muddled senses detect it. Like freshly baked bread on a cold day, with a hint of something sweet. Aired out bed linen left outside on a warm day, something toasted dances within it. The scents fused together, getting stronger and stronger by the second.

Your eyes adjust briefly, Minho and Changbin stand off against the triggered alphas.

“Well that’s new” You manage to mumble. As you watch them snarl and defend you. If you were in another state, you’d say you were impressed. Maybe your scent was just really repulsive to them? If you could remember, you’d ask later.

You fight through the Omega need to find an Alpha to satiate your rising hunger, pulling out all of your Prime strength you can. If there was ever a time to be thankful for being a prime it would be now.

Even if the two could fight through the mass, too many people would be hurt.

Your spine straightens, eyes flashing to Prime, voice taken over.

“ALPHA.” Your Prime voice makes everyone halt. The alpha voice might be a terrifying weapon for alphas to use against omegas, but they had no idea what the Prime voice could be capable of. “DOWN.”

Your command is taken instantaneously, the swarm of alphas on the roof all drop to their knees. Their bodies shake with their inability to control themselves.

“LOWER.” the voice growled from you. On their knees, hands and chest to the roof the alphas went in unisent.

All except two alphas. They continue to stand vigilant. Which once again, if you remember you’d ask them about that.

You know you can’t hold it for long. Your body almost giving into the full heat you’ve thrown yourself into.

Speaking of throw, without another thought you feel your control snap. Simultaneously as you throw yourself over the railing plummeting down to the concrete below.

The last thing you hear is the voices of the two alphas above scream your name, as your feet slam into the ground.

----

“Most primes are protected. Then there’s you, inducing your own heat and then throwing herself off 10 story buildings.” Your specialist doctor chastises as he finishes taking your vitals for the day..

“You’d be bored if I was like regular primes.” You jest. He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at you. It's the same old song and dance with you two.

“If your family-”

“If my family cared, I’d have a legion of guards to protect me. But they don't, so I take care of myself.” You finish for him, he finally looks at you. Eyes pleading as always.

“A broken leg is taking care of yourself?” He gestures towards your very large cast, covering from your foot to your mid thigh.

“I didn’t say I was the best at it, did I?” You give him your best fake sincere smile.

“Fine. But could you atleast think about finding someone to bond with?” His sigh of defeat sends an itch over your skin. “I don’t care if it isn’t an omega, hell it could be an Alpha or even a Beta. But atleast that would be some form of safety net for you.”

You don’t answer. You never do. For as long as you’ve been alive you’ve been told you had to mate with another Omega Prime, keep the family line strong. But you cut ties with your family long ago and couldn’t find it within yourself to feel comfortable with the idea of a mate.

“I worry about you.” He goes back to packing up his things, keeping his back to you.

“I know.” It’s all you can manage.

You hear him sigh loudly again as he makes his way around the room, hesitating by the door.

“Hey doc.” You call as his hand is on the door knob. “Thanks.”

You had a lot to thank him for. Not just this time, but continuing to look after you when you left the Prime courts. He could have easily walked away from all your ridiculous behaviour and you wouldn't have falted him for it, but he chose to push on being your doctor. Helping you in any shape and form you needed.

“I’ll see you soon.” He smiles at you before opening it. “Hello Felix, are you feeling better?”

“Yes Doctor, a lot better. Is she awake?” You hear the fake light tone from the hallway.

Ah shit.

“Yes she is.” You look away, you weren’t ready to apologize for what you did. You did what you thought was right.

You listen as he enters. Shuffling as the door closes.Theres a moment of silence before he speaks.

“You said you’d catch up.” Felix sniffles from the end of your hospital bed, you look at him.

“And I did.” You try to lighten.

“A broken leg wasn’t part of the deal.” His angry eyes bore into you. “You could have been really hurt.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I’m alright.” You motion for him to come closer, shifting slightly to give him enough space to climb on the bed with you. When he snuggles in you feel his body relax. “Just a little sore. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

----

A few days in the infirmary felt like years with the amount of boredom you were in. The only highlight was Felix joining you when he had some down time.

Another day of Felix fussing over you, running back and forth to make sure you had food and liquids and you weren’t in pain. Eventually he settled down to eat with you, your conversations turning back to that day.

“I was terrified when the Hyungs passed us on the stairs. Chan tried to yell at them not to, but it was too late.” You can see the crease between his eyebrows as he thought about it. “I really thought they’d become like the others. But now I’m so glad they were there.”

You don’t say anything, your memories coming back are fuzzy. A drowsy flash of two alphas snarling in defense, rage and protectiveness aimed at keeping you safe.

“I knew Changbin and Minho have really good control over their instincts, but that? I really am impressed.” He chuffs, proud of his older members for keeping themselves in check.

In a cloud you remember their backs, the muscles tight with Alpha stances on full display. But…. Had you managed to direct your Prime voice to only the lost alphas? In a normal circumstance you wouldn’t second guess it. However, inducing your own heat had made it almost impossible to differentiate one alpha from another. The musky clouds of Alphas making your stomach feel like it was made of cement, your Omega instincts could still smell the two.

Wait, have you ever really smelled them before? It was them wasn’t it? You don’t go around smelling others for the reason that most scents are slightly nauseating. So with your Prime abilities you forced your Omega instincts down. But did that really mean you just never noticed that you completely ignored others scents?

Glancing over at felix you let out a hesitant sniff, a citrus burst with a dash of caramel. Ok, you could smell him, he smells like he always does. So why did you….

“What do Changmin and Minho smell like?”

You watch him pause, taking in your words. He looks up at you visibly confused.

“You’ve never noticed?” There sounds like there’s something hidden in his voice, something you aren’t sure what it is.

“I guess not.” You contemplate. “I think I smelt them on the roof, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually paid attention to it before.”

“Ah, well they have kind of off putting pheromones.” Felix gently tries to explain.

“Off putting?” That does shock you. What you smelt on the roof was nothing like that.

“Yea, um.” An awkward cough escapes him. “Minho Hyung kind of smells like… pure sugar? Too sugary, sickly sweet? If that makes sense. And Changbin Hyung smells…well…. burnt.”

You think back to the scents from before, letting your senses reimagine them. The comforting pheromones filling your lungs, even now makes your brain go cloudy. Was it them you had smelt then, or was it different Alphas in the throng of chaos.

“They both take some special suppressants to kind of dampen them, but I try not to breathe too deeply around them. It’s not as uncomfortable as it used to be, but you can still smell it.”

“Huh….”

“Was it them?” His question is genuine. “It would make sense for them to be emitting really strong pheromones during all that.”

“I’m not sure.” You shrug, you don’t need the younger omega to worry about anything else right now. “It’s ok, I’ll just sniff them later.”

“Well don’t forget that I warned you.” He laughs off your words. Back to eating the homemade food he brought with him.

A hint of warm baked bread dances on the food. Which seems odd because Felix didn’t bring any.

----

The next day you had another visit from your doctor, he checked your leg and vitals, making sure your heat was down before agreeing to sign your release papers.

“I’m only agreeing to this because if I don’t you’re only going to make it worse for all of us.” He exclaims. You could tell he was tired. He was extremely busy. Being a Beta and scent deaf meant he could treat all subgenders without any issue of pheromones getting in his way. It was one of the reasons he had stayed with you since you were a kid. It’s why he even became a doctor. “However, I have arranged for you to be looked after while you finish healing.”

“Is that really necessary?” You whine, shifting yourself to the side of the bed, carefully bringing both feet to hang down.

“Yes.”

Ok, no room for debate clearly. You silently sat there as he collected himself, coming over to stand in front of you. Without realizing it you were already pouting.

“Just….please. Heal first, cause mayhem later.”

You nod, pout still there. “But who-”

The door swings open and your eyes sparkle.

“Ready to go?” Felix asks from the door, the bubbliest smile on his face, a large duffle bag in his hands.

“Really?” The giddiness almost taking over.

Felix was always so busy with his group, you and he barely had time to spend together. So to have him being the one to take care of you, you are excited to say the least.

Your doctor rolls his eyes at you, “Let’s get you home.”

----

Having Felix as your temporary caretaker was probably the best 2 weeks you’ve had. 4 more weeks of Felix and you having movie nights, letting yourselves indulge in more Omega oriented activities. By that you meant creating one big nest for the two of you to sleep in together. Your bed wasn’t big enough to create the perfectly comfy nest to happily tingle your omega needs, so you two had chosen to make it in the living room under your large sky light. Pushing your couch back slightly to make room. He had brought all of the bedding and blankets and pillows he owned to yours, and you had instructed him where you kept the thick comfy quilts.

You hadn’t made a proper nest in a long while, and as comfy as it was, as perfect as it was…something was missing. You just couldn’t explain what, so you didn’t mention anything. It really wasn't necessary.

Felix did an amazing job helping you in your mundane everyday tasks. Honestly, it had never been so much fun. But a foreboding was approaching; Felix’s heat cycle was shorter than others. So within the next week he would be slipping and he wouldn’t be able to look after you and you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do anything for him.

He had asked if he could take half of his things and half of yours with him when he was away for that week. Him saying your omega scent would help ease the time. Of course you agreed wholeheartedly. You offered him every piece of fabric that smelt like you that could be moved.

You had been able to get around with crutches now, but some things were still difficult. Simple things felt derailingly exhausting, without completing things you’d need a 2 hour nap to recuperate. On the day his pre-heat began he let you know that someone would be by to check up on you later in the day. Leaving you with breakfast and a half nest. You had hugged and bid goodbye. Your now vibrant apartment now stark and boring. You sigh to yourself, annoyed with your already darker demeanor.

Giving up you climb back into the half made nest, too tired to fix it. The scent of citrus barely there. You push away your thoughts as you fall into a light slumber.

—

Your sleep groggy mind reacts before your body. You feel too heavy to move, sleep threatening to pull you back in. Was someone baking a pastry? If they were, it smelt delicious, you hoped they would save you some. You rolled slightly, to alleviate the pressure you were putting on your cast, you must have curled oddly in your sleep. A wave of clean bedding wafted over you. Did someone bring you some new things for your nest? That was nice of them.

You compelled your eyes to open, on your back staring up into the sky light. Too much sun beaming down on your face causes you to outwardly groan, rotating to prop yourself up eyes adjusting to your apartment again.

You watch the figure in the kitchen, wearing your apron tied snuggly around his waist, shuffle back and forth, chopping and then back to something on the stove. You drag yourself with your hands and good leg onto your couch to observe them better. His light brown hair, catching in the sunlight, almost dances a copper tone. His feline features once and a while angled better for you to catch glimpses of his concentration. Contentedly you watch him, sitting silently as he doesn’t realize you’re awake.

That is, until the itch to know becomes too unbearable.

“Lixie says you and Bin take pheromone suppressants.” It's not a question. You watch him halt his movements, but only for a split second then resuming his cooking.

“Yes.” His voice is relatively mellow. At least he doesn’t seem annoyed talking about it. So far.

You hear the bathroom door open from the hall, heavy footsteps coming into the main area.

“You’re awake” Changbin smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I’m bored of being tired.” You explain away. “How can you both need them? I was surprised when he told me. Especially when I thought I smelt you both on the roof that day.”

Changbins weary look is directed at his hyung, he had no idea what you were talking about.

“The suppressants work well.” Minho continues working. “You would know if you smelt us.”

“Burnt and sickly sweet right?” You recall what Felix said that day.

“Yes.” Minho answers again, this time looking at Changbin he nods sheepishly. Almost looking disgusted with himself.

“Can I smell you?”

“What?” Changbins head shoots up to look at you.

“You want to smell us?” Minho, finally forgoes the cooking to fully face you.

“Haven’t you smelt us before?” Changbin tries to deflect.

“Maybe, but I’ve never noticed anything… ‘offensive’ coming from you two.” You explain. “So I want to check for myself.”

They exchange panicked expressions.

“You don’t have to, but I would like to.” Your petulant pout adorned on your face.

Eventually Changbin speaks up, “We, uh don't mind. We’re just worried about you.”

“I promise I will not throw up.” You chuckled at them.

“Ok but don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Minho shakes his head in disbelief.

They cautiously make their way around the couch, coming to stand in front of you.

“Who first?” You exclaim cheerfully. Once again they exchange weary looks then roll their eyes at your nonchalant attitude of this impending wave of disgust to hit you.

“Me.” Minho kneels on the floor, making it easy to get close enough to his scent gland without causing you too much physical strain. You shift forward, leaning into his neck making sure not to make any contact. You give a hesitant sniff, the suppressants they are on must be really strong. You inch closer, taking a deep inhale.

The smell hits you instantly. You keep a straight face.

“Changbin.”

By the gods you managed to get your voice out in a steady tone.

Changbin follows his hyungs position, Minho now standing to observe.

This time knowing how close you needed to be to actually smell their pheromones, you move right away. Leaning in and taking a second deep inhale of the night.

Your face blanks, as they now stand together waiting for your definite repulsion. You take a moment, not able to see the look of dejection on their face.

“Well…It was undeniably you two that I smelt on the roof.” You finally manage. “But I need to ask you both something. When I used my Prime voice on the alphas, and when you came in contact with my heat pheromones, what was running through your minds?”

They looked at you quizzically, “we…our instincts wanted to protect you. That’s what we were thinking.. Well we weren’t actually. Our alpha instincts took over.”

“As for the voice… I don’t know how to explain how we felt but… it was like if someone didn’t obey it we would make them? Almost giddy, I guess.”

An airy laugh leaves you. “That’s new. How many more surprises are there gonna be with you two?”

“What-? Our scents?” Changbin redirects back to their previous worry.

“I’m glad you guys take suppressants, because you have the most delicious pheromones I’ve ever smelt in my life.”

“Did the doctor check to see if you hit your head?”

“Ok, rude.” You huff. “I am never giving you a compliment ever again.”

“You’re sure it was us?” Changbin points between them.

“Yea. 1000%, like a puff pastry with powdered sugar on top and toasted chestnuts in the morning wrapped in clean linen.” You pout, body slouched back on the couch angrily.

“We’ve never heard those before.”

“Well, I'm sorry to burst your gross bubble, but you two don’t smell gross.” Shrugging them off you turn your attention to a new curiosity. “What’s for lunch?”

----

Over the next few days none of you bring up the pheromone conversation again, nor do you bring up their reactions to your Omega. It does however continue to remain an inquiry for you. You wait patiently for today to finally ask someone about it. Cast changing day.

You let your doctor remove your cast, asking you pain questions and general health ones. As he is casting the new one you finally let yourself ask.

“What would it mean if an alpha didn’t respond to an Omega Prime voice?” The nonchalance in your voice is clear.

“That would depend, was it intentionally directed to avoid them or was it an all for one?” Keeping his eyes trained down, his hands don’t stop moving, wrapping the bands around your calf.

You let yourself think over the situation before answering.“Since it couldn’t have been properly controlled, let’s say all for one.”

“Well…..”

“Hm.” You contemplate his words. “And what if an alphas' instinct was to protect instead of mount, with an omega in heat?”

“Please don’t say mount.” He grimaced, eyes still down but hands pausing briefly to show his dislike even more than with just his face.

“Aright, instead of ‘try to take by force’.” You stifle your laugh, but continue in your questioning.

“It would suggest…..”

“Uh huh.” You struggled to take in his answers, but the gist of it wasn’t lost on you. “Last question, what if an alphas pheromones and natural scent was repulsive to everyone around then except one omega, to that omega they smelt really good. What would that suggest?”

“Why are you so weird today?” He stands to examine your face, finally looking at you. He knew something was going on, it’s not like you were hiding it.

“More than normal?” You give an over exaggerated grin.

He stares at you blankly for a moment, like he’s considering letting you feign ignorance or pushing you for information. Luckily he doesn’t take too long to decide, he already knows if you’re going to tell him you will.

“No.” Is his final answer. “It would most likely mean…..”

“Ah.” You flomp back on the mattress, eyes now trained to the ceiling. Your face scrunches up in annoyance as you piece the puzzle together. A puzzle you never asked to have to deal with. You didn’t like complicated things like this, you preferred simple and easy to push along.

“What is this all about?” He sounds worried, he was always worried.

“I think I may have found….”

----

The mindless boredom you had begun to feel while stuck at home, was starting to give you an anxious itch. If you were right about it, and the information your doctor told you did in fact back that up, it would be a time if the boys found out.

So you kept quiet, no issues if you didn’t bring it up. Clearly they thought differently.

“We think something is going on.” Changbin announces from your kitchen. They had come over together to help you complete some work and make you dinner. Felix had something come up and they had volunteered.

“Well I’m hoping it’s not something bad with my food.” You nonchalantly throw over your shoulder, fingers typing away on your laptop from the couch.

Your nest still a mess on the floor. Felix had offered to fix it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him. Something was still missing.

“With the three of us.” Minho finishes. AH, so they noticed something. Your hands still, recline back arm over the back of the couch, you lounge out.

“And what exactly is happening?” You inquire, body calm, mind ready to receive any information they might have dug up.

They gave each other a mild once over before exchanging a nod. Approaching you with hesitant energy but sure steps. You could smell them stronger than normal today, maybe that was because they were nervous? Or maybe because your Omega was trying to smell them out? Either way, you ignored it.

“We’ve done some research.” Minho supplies. “About you not finding our smells repulsing.”

“The only things we could find are research papers on the idea of the rarities of fated mates.” The words come out of changbin so fast you’re surprised you even understand it.

“It’s a possibility that one of us could be your fated mate.” Minho simplifies.

“Smart boys.” You chuckle. “Looks like we’ve come to the same conclusion then.”

They stare at you dumbfounded.

“I was also curious about my Omega pheromones having certain effects on your alpha instincts.” You continue. “And it seems they have also indicated that. However, I’ll tell you both now. Just because it appears that way doesn’t mean I’m about to jump on either of you.”

“We get that. We just want to make sure we're all on the same page with what this could possibly entail for us.” Minho confides, emphasizing their sincerity. These boys knew you well enough and what your view was on ‘mates’.

You sigh heavily, how was the idea of the possibility of having a fated mate this exhausting?

“And we want to be honest..” Changbin directs your attention. “We both have felt drawn to you. If this possibility was right and you felt something for one of us over the other, we’d be ok with that. But we also don't want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

You gave them a soft smile. “Thank you boys. If it had to possibly be anyone, I’m glad it was you two.”

Upon some form of conclusion for the night, they helped you hobble over to the kitchen table to eat for the night.

But there was still a lingering thought playing in the back of your mind that you couldn’t quite settle.

----

“A FATED PAIR?!” Felix screeched excitedly from the other end of your couch, flailing pillows and plushies toward you.

“The possibility of a fated pair.” You correct, dodging each oft blow with a giggle. You knew he would have an over the top reaction, which honestly was one of the reasons why you did want to tell him, but also you didn’t want to spend the evening answering his million questions.

“But TWO?!” His excitement wasn't about to die down. “Holy shit. How are you going to choose?”

“Lix, I’m not going to choose.” You hush him, wanting to bring an end to this interrogation. “Listen, I won’t choose someone just because my omega wants me to. I need to actually like the person first. I need to know them.”

“It’s Changbin and Minho.” He reminds, giving you a pointed look.

“I know, but you and I both know how badly couples can end just because they go along with their sub genders needs. I’d rather be sure.” You recall past mutual friends of yours and how disastrous their situations turned out when they let their instincts fully take over. It had left the friend group shattered with no amount of apologizing and forgiveness could mend what had been hurt.

“So you are going to pick one of them?” He still pushes.

“I’m not saying yes and I’m not saying no.” You finish, huffing before mumbling to yourself. “We could still be wrong.”

----

Work had called you asking if you could come in, there was a specifically rude alpha writer that demanded the editors who worked on his last piece to be there. He had first come in requesting only Alphas to work on his writing. The manager had told him that they would do the best they could but they had limited Alphas available. The top editors in the firm were you, two other omegas, an alpha and a beta. However, that didn't seem to be good enough.

Apparently he had just realized that it was 3 omegas who had been credited for the editorial, even though the 3 of you had also worked on his previous project. To top it off he was also very into his hierarchy of the subgenders.

Thankfully for you, you had just entered the free standing boot phase of your recovery. You hobbled into the firm, the receptionist welcoming you back, and warning you of what might be in the conference room. She also let you know a little piece of extra information about said writer. He was a dominant alpha male.

Upon entering the room you are enveloped with the intense heavy set musk of dominant pheromones. The need to vomit crept up on you, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth.

“Sorry for being late,” You respond normally, pretending not to notice the provoked alpha on the far side of the room. Not to mention, the two omega editors cowering in at the side table, looking meek and shaking in their chairs. “I’m still a little slow on my feet.”

Your Alpha manager rushed over to you to help you alongside the others, the shallow tremble in him didn’t go unnoticed. “No worries, y/n we were just going over the issue.”

“Is there an issue?” You ask cheerfully. First you get a read on the hostile energy. The dominant alpha stands tall, smug expression on his face as he watches everyone in the room struggle to keep themselves together.

“I would say there is, omega.” His voice instantly makes your brain itch, and not in a good way. Gross. Also his need to identify your sub gender to the room really tests your ability to hold your eyes from rolling. “I requested alpha editors to be a part of the project, not three omegas. I need my work to be looked over carefully and with exceptional skills. I am sure you three are adequate but I don’t like being kept in the dark about my own work.”

You pretend to mull over his words, this man clearly needs others to bow down and grovel at his feet.

What an unfortunate choice for him.

“As I recall your novel hit #1 on the charts for 4 weeks and it was completed before the deadline.” Your professionalism is on full display. “I am sorry if you do not feel that your work has been properly looked after. But our firm never promised for an alpha only team, just as you did not feel the need to read over the creditors before releasing. On all the paperwork you were given about the piece, our names and subgenders were clearly marked. You did not raise a complaint nor concern at the time.”

“So you’re saying that was my neglect then, Omega?” His vocal demeanor changes to a lower tone, rasping out as the room spikes with more pheromones. He evidently was trying to will you to submit, which once again was unfortunate.

“Could you please not refer to me by my subgender, I do have a name.” You sigh, how annoying.

“You don’t like to be reminded that you are an Omega?” It almost comes out as a snarl at this point. This time you can’t stop from rolling your eyes.

You push the rollie chair away from the table, turning to face him front on. You side glance over to you manager, then to the antagonistic male then back. Asking for permission, you could see him struggle to nod. The Dominant pheromones now getting to his inner alpha, his instincts fighting to not submit either. You look at your fellow omegas and they are truly a mess. Tears streaming down their faces, heads down, already submitted a time ago.

“It’s not that I need a reminder. I am very well aware of what I am.” You stated coldly. “You, however, need to be educated.”

His sick chortle of a laugh fills the room. One you were more than happy to silence.

Your Prime voice ready to extinguish his joy.

“SIT.”

He’s instantly on the ground, mid laugh causing him to choke.

“CRAWL.”

You watch him fight against his body, as he trembles onto hands and knees moving towards you. When he’s close enough for your amusement, you hear the omegas behind you stop crying. You can also hear your manager finally take a deep breath.

“STOP.”

He sits there on the dirty carpeted floor in his stupid looking designer suit at your feet. You stay seated, comfily reclined in your chair.

“The only reason this firm worked on your piece in the first place was because it was a favour for your uncle. The amount of work that went into salvaging that piece of crap you spewed is ridiculous. Not to mention no other firm would work with you.” You reprimanded. “You should feel thankful that our manager agreed to it, thankful that you had two of the most professional and invaluable editors we have.”

“You are free to go to another firm, at this point we’d all be grateful if you did. I will remind you, Omega or not you have NO RIGHT to compromise another with your pheromones. It is against the law and we will not hesitate to file against you. Understood?”

Your eyes glower at him with the intensity of a Prime, he nods sheepishly.

“Now apologize to my coworkers and manager for wasting their time and disrespecting this firm.”

His hurried words of begging for forgiveness meant nothing to you. You watched him collect himself and retreat out of the room. The omegas hugging you in thanks.

“I’m surprised you were able to hold off from that alpha. You made it look so easy.” They seemed mesmerized by you.

“It was.” You stated confidently. “They're not my Alpha.”

----

“A horde of alphas isn’t enough for you? Now you’re tackling aggravated dominants?” Your doctor insisted on an omega specific checkup. Even for you, over exerting yourself while still healing could be dangerous.

“It was only one this time.” You mutter, back in his office once again. You swore you might as well live here with how often you keep showing up. The receptionists and cleaning man were all on a first name basis with you.

“Does your alpha know that you’re making dominants submit to you?” He muses from his desk, looking over your test results.

“My what?” You try to contain your shock, but then again he could read you pretty well.

He gives you a ‘cmon really’ type of stare, “I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t ask questions unless they’re relevant and of interest. It’s easy enough to put two and two together.” He stands to place the blood pressure wrap around your arm. “So how does your alpha feel about it?”

“They’re thrilled.” You stone face, eyes locked on your arm.

“Really?”

“Giddy even.” You pout defiantly.

“I know it’s a touchy subject, but do you have any plans to mate with them?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice. You didn’t want to hide anything from him, if anything he would be the one to help you figure it all out.

“I-There’s two.” You look up at him.

“Two?” He gives you a perplexed look, before lightly chuckling. “You definitely don’t make things easy.”

“Yea yea. I’m the definition of the perfect patient.” You roll your eyes, a smile breaking out on your lips.

“This might be an idea, but maybe you should test their scents against your heat?” He suggests, pulling the monitor away.

“...how would I do that?”

“Well, your heat is coming up shortly so I would say to ask each of them for something to have with you during it. If your Omega reacts more to one scent then the other you know at least you know where part of you stands.”

That could be a piece of the puzzle you could use.

----

A day out. You desperately needed a day out, especially with your heat approaching. Bless Felix for planning with everyone to finally get you out of the house. And like the bundle of sunshine he was, he decided it would be best to hit up all your favourite local pier. One that happened to be equipped with a few rides, bowling alleys, mini golfing courses and other small activities.

Of course the first plan of attack was a couple of the rides, your boot and all slugging into mechanisms. The last one being a sort of enclosed type tilt-a-whirl, which to be fair did have some pretty steep drops. The line was a little longer for this one, so you all cued together. When you got to the front of the line you had just begun sorting into smaller groups.

“I’ll sit with Changbin and Minho” you volunteer, hand raising in the air. The two started to pack themselves into the enclosed bubble.

“Really?” Seungmin quips almost astounded that someone would want to. You roll your eyes, heading to follow them in.

“It’s groups of 3, and there’s 9 of us. Does anyone else want to be crammed in a tight space with them?” You challenge, the look of horror on their faces was more than enough as an answer. “Exactly.”

As you begin to enter the ride Minho holds his hand out for you, steadying you as you step over the gap. Changbin, waits for you to sit before closing the door behind you.

“Are you sure y/n?” Changbin asks, settling himself across from you.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” Your tone annoyed but strong. “I like your scents, even if there was someone else wanting to come in with you I’d still be here.”

Minho turns away to try to hide the smile on his face, changbins sheepish smile is turned down to the floor. You couldn’t help admiring how cute they were.

How did you not notice that before? ….. you knew, being one disappointment after another you had turned off and locked down your omega. Becoming unable to view anyone as anything more than a friend. It was safer that way. In your old world only other primes were eligible for you to mate with. But maybe now it was time to turn it back on, let yourself notice things, let the possibilities in.

“Oh I wanted to ask you guys a favour.” You pull them back, the ride slowly inching forward to let the next 3 in. “I don’t know if Felix mentioned it but my heat is starting in a couple days and -“

“We know.” Changbin cuts in. “Uh, we know but Felix didn’t tell us.”

You eye him for a moment, there was something he wasn’t saying. You glance at Minho.

“We can smell it.” Minho to the rescue.

“Smell it?” You give yourself a quick sniff. You couldn’t smell anything. At least you don’t normally until the day of. “Huh. Ok? Well I was wondering if I could borrow something from each of you during my heat?”

Their eyes spring back to you. Shock is not the right word to explain what you see.

“My doctor told me to test my omega. It’s been mostly dormant for a long time because of my upbringing, so if there is something going on with us” you motion in a triangle “seeing the reaction my base instincts might be helpful, you know? My omega might gravitate toward one of you.”

You could see it in their faces that they were contemplating your words carefully.

“I mean, it does make sense.” Minho agrees.

“But what about you not being swayed by your omegas needs? Your choice?” Changbin seemed concerned.

“I will not let my omega mount either of you before this me decides how we might feel.” You give them the Boy Scout salute.

“Mount?” Changbin bursts into a full laugh. Finally the mood lightens again. The three of you buzzing by the time the ride actually gets into full swing. You and changbin both needing to hold onto Minho as he yells about wanting to get off. Changbin just screams incoherently and you can’t stop laughing.

Thankfully the rides controller takes pity on them and slows it down to let your group off. Both boys stumble out but still manage to help you off. The rest of your entourage wanting to go again.

You decide to head into the building that holds the bowling alley, your incline down the last steps proves to be a little slippery as your booted foot slides out from under you.

The impact with your ass and the carpeted floor makes you grunt. They both let out maniacal fits of laughter at your landing.

“Ha.Ha. Help me.” You demand, pout uncontrollably appearing.

“Watch out if we don’t help her back up she might use her prime voice on us.”

“Yea because that worked so well last time” you rolled your eyes and huffed. Thankfully they still help you into a seat next to an unused lane. “Besides, if anything it would just make you two high or something.”

“What do you mean?” That causes them to stop laughing.

“Apparently it’s another possibility. That being fated to a prime means the voice doesn’t work on you like other people. Alphas have no choice, their inner alpha hates it. Like nails on a chalkboard. But with fated it hits the serotonin and dopamine thrill.” You smirk, flashing them bright eyes batting your eyelashes.

“Our own personal dealer?” Minho chides.

“Nice.” Changbin retorts, they high five. “I’ll grab you shoes….or a shoe.”

“I’ll grab drinks. You.” He points to you, then your chair.

You wave him off in indifference to scan around the alley. You guys hadn’t been here in almost a year. It was almost scary how it hadn’t changed at all. Still a musky smell of ocean water, easy pizza and burgers, as well as a hint of BO. The workers were younger than you remembered, but you were also older than you remembered. Chuckling to yourself at the nostalgia. Your eyes find their way over to Minho in the line for the concession.

His broad back and slender waist turned to you. He wasn’t as slim as a lot of the members, Ji specifically. No one could beat that man's waist. He never really wore shirts that were tight fitted, which in hindsight could be quite a shame….that went for Changbin too. Minho was taller, with sharp features, but still soft to look at. But that was him, wasn’t it?

He looked cold from the surface, not really responding or speaking but he was extremely observant. If you had to guess his love language would definitely be acts of service. He wasn’t good at accepting compliments, which made it all the more fun to dish out. Watching the blush creep up his face as he tries to hide it. He really was dependable. There was no doubt about that in your mind. He had such a deep caring nature for those he cared about, anyone would be lucky to be bonded with him.

Just as you fall deeper into his silhouette, Changbin appears in front of you.

“Shoe!” He chimes cheerfully. A single show for you and two pairs for them. Before you can say anything in response he’s down on one knee in front of you.

Pulling your good foot by your ankle he rests it on his leg, untying the laces and slipping your foot out. He’s extremely fluid and delicate in his movements, it’s weirdly mesmerizing. His strong hand reaches over to grab the single bowling shoe, sliding onto your foot with ease.

How did he know your shoe size? You’re sure that’s something you’ve never brought up before. You can see the top of his bleach dyed hair, his roots vaguely noticeable. Another observant one, he and Minho clearly shared that in common. However he seemed more like a words of affirmation type… He always knew exactly what to say in any situation. Always knew how to make someone feel better, he was truthful in a way that seemed more uplifting even with sour news. His shoulders were broader than your other friends, his ability to gain muscle was something to be desired for sure. His obvious soft eyes could turn fierce in a second if he felt he had to.

It took everything in you to not reach out to feel his hair run through your fingers.

And just like that you snap back out. Your shoe on and laced up, and Changbin standing to accept his drink from Minho. Minho doesn’t say anything as he places a drink down next to you. You peer over at it not sure what you were expecting as you hadn't told him what you wanted.

He notices you staring at your cup.

“Water.” He states, sipping on his drink. “Too much caffeine doesn’t sit well before your heat.”

He turns away, both men now replacing their shoes. They had moved on to another conversation. But you felt stuck.

‘Water…water…’

How did he know caffeine makes you feel gross during your heat period? You’ve only ever mentioned it to Felix. Did Felix tell Minho about the caffeine? Did Felix tell Changbin your shoe size? How did they know…. When did they know?

Just as your minding your words to ask them about it, the others in your group come barrelling down the stairs. Laughter stealing your attention, maybe later. You’d ask them later.

----

Later your ass. You never did get round to asking, your mind in a sort of whirlwind since. But still the day before your heat Minho and Changbin showed up at your apartment, they both had decided the best thing to give you were one of the most worn hoodies. Apparently Felix told them you tended to get really cold between waves of need. Changbin had brought a black one and Minhos was a light gray. They had made sure the day leading up to they had worn them without taking suppressants. So they slept, ate, worked out (per your request) in the hoodies.

You thanked them, letting them know you’d wash them before returning and you were sorry for however state they ended up. They laughed and said they knew what they had agreed to.

And with that you locked yourself away, awaiting the pain and insufferability of going through your heat alone again.

Your doctor's idea was a good one….well it would have been if you were someone else.

----

The day after your heat ended you had managed to clean yourself and your apartment up. Your fridge was now empty of the premade meals that Felix had given you. Now understanding why they had an underlying smell of a bakery, Minho was the one who made them for you.

You had your answer post heat, but did it really change anything? Should you tell your doctor? Felix? Changbin and Minho?

You were already emotionally mentally and physically exhausted, but this was just ready to make your head explode. Deciding fuck it, you placed both sweaters unwashed in sealed bags. Keeping them separate from each other and from stinking up the whole building. Throwing them in your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. You texted Minho asking if they were both home stating you had to talk to them. He instantly replied that they were and you could come over anytime.

You rushed to get your shoes on and head over to their shared apartment. Of course they would share, now it makes more sense because of their pheromones and your understanding of them. Clearly something you once again didn’t notice before.

Your fist against the door sounds a lot more aggressive than you meant it to be. Changbin opens the door, almost taking you by surprise, but don’t let it stop you. Dropping your backpack onto the middle of their living room floor.

“Are you ok?” Minho questions quickly. “You smell…sour?”

“Did something go wrong?” Changbins clearly worried. They both are.

“No…well…it did tell me…things, I guess.” You fumble your words, which is most definitely not like you. “I just had to get out of there. I was thinking too loudly.”

“We get it, it’s a lot to ask of you” Minho reassures. Why did that make you feel even shittier?

“My backpack.” You look down to the mass on the floor. “I brought your sweaters back…”

“Before you say anything y/n.” Changbin walks across the room to you. “We have a favour we’d like to ask of you. Or at least we hope it could help?”

“We were thinking, what if we each took an item from you for out ruts?” Minho joined him in front of you. “It might not be the same as your heat, but at least you’d be reassured on our end that our alphas are 100% wanting this. Just like…..we are.”

“You-?” Fumbled, seriously now was not the time to lose your ability with words.

“We both have genuine feelings for you. Alphas or not. People to people. If we could have it our way, honestly we’d be willing if you wanted both of us. Our alphas agree…” Changbin smiles softly.

You take a step back, baffled by them. Two of the most capable human beings wanted you, you as a person. Not because you were a prime…and their alphas wanted to be with you too. Alphas wanting to be with a Prime, not only that but share? This was beyond a possibility. This was impossible. You let out a dry airy chuckle, now standing confident to face them.

“In my backpack, are your hoodies. I didn’t wash them.” From confusion to mischief, the look in your eyes hypnotizes them. You reach down, pulling out each sealed ziploc piece of clothing. Tossing them at the males they catch them effortlessly, without looking away from you.

“I think I’ll let you find out for yourselves.”

They blink themselves back, glancing down to the packages in their hands. You see their jaws lock in place. Could it be worry, or they’re both ready for their chance to be disappointed or is it the thought of being able to smell what you smelt like during your heat.

Regardless it didn’t matter now. You all needed answers, you had heard theirs. Now they need to know yours.

Hesitantly, with shaking hands they open the bags in unisent, letting the smells intrapped inside to explode out. They both swallowed down a lump in their throats. You can see them inhale deeply and shudder. Something about watching them on edge, waiting for their answer, both wanting awakens your omega. Instead of fighting them down you let them watch, to take in the sights and scents with you. You can feel your left eye be taken over by your omega. For the first time, in your life your omega and you were working together.

During your heat you found a harmony within yourself you didn’t know you could have.

Changbins shoulders roll back as the stress vein on Minho's neck protrudes. They reach in, taking a moment to look at each other exchanging a nod and pulling the garments out. The fusion of your scent on full blast and theirs erupts. It feels so thick it will probably stick to every surface in their apartment.

They scan over their individual pieces, you can see when they and their alphas understand what they are holding in their hands. Your omega purrs, feeling the pheromones of a pleased alphas circulating. They both hear it when you let the sound come out of your mouth. One eye normal, one omega taken.

“It’s difficult to wear two hoodies at all times.” Your voice sultry, vibrating with the purr from your chest. “Maybe one of you should give me some pants next time.”

You smile widely at them. Their alphas are just as shocked as they are, looking to each other and what's in their hands it sinks in.

You wore both. The whole time your omega needed an alpha, you clung to both. You used both to fight for release.

“Or how about instead, you both join me?” You smirk. “Because I’ve already starting falling for both of you.”

The smile on their faces was beyond breathtaking. To think you might have missed this. You never wanted to miss this. Miss them.

The possibility seemed so unreal months ago, but now could only have been a definite since the beginning.

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