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0097linersb · 3 years

Text

Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 3

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: hEy guys, I’m SO sorry for 1. taking so long for this shitty chapter and 2. I will no longer be tagging new people simply because I am so lost and I feel like I will miss half of the people who asked so I don’t want to make anyone feel forgotten or upset

THIS ISN’t PROOF READ I SUCK I KNOW I hate thIS STORY

☼ previous / next ☼

The next morning you woke up before Jeno, you tried to silently sneak out to give him the chance of pretending nothing happened, in case he decided it had all been a drunken mistake and it should be forgotten. Your plan was proven kind of difficult with the whole having to untangle yourself from the man and unzipping the tent open situation, bright sun rays suddenly filling the space. You winced at the light and tried to quickly close the door back up, startled by a groaning sleepy Jeno who confusedly sat up and rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to get out,” You apologized.

“Oh, ok. What time is it?”

“I have no idea, my phone died.”

The man searched for his phone among the covers and sighed when he realized he had run out of battery too. You awkwardly stared at each other, not really knowing if one of you should bring up what had happened or just casually move on.

“I don’t think the others are up yet,” You tried to start a conversation before the tension could swallow you up.

“Probably not. I’m still sleepy though, could go for a morning nap,” He smiled before lying back down, you were thankful he was trying to end the awkwardness too.

“I love morning naps.”

“Come join?” He asked with hopeful eyes and you nodded before practically throwing yourself back into his side, careful to not touch him in case he wasn’t interested and you didn’t want to impose yourself. You turned your back to Jeno and closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep in seconds, but was surprised when you felt the man’s arm silently wrapping around your waist and his chest pressing against your back before lazily whispering a “Good night” against the back of your neck. You smiled contently to yourself, hearing Jeno’s breathing get heavier and slower as sleep took over him, following his steps soon after.

The second time you woke up, was to a screaming Jisung. You and Jeno both jumped awake, startled, before running outside thinking there was a snake or something dangerous like that. The two of you were soon staring at the young boy judgingly, looking between him and the cockroach on the floor.

“Jisung, it’s dead,” Jeno sighed, trying to not get annoyed at the young man.

“It’s still moving!” He whined, still refusing to go down from the camping chair.

“They do that,” You sighed too, giving up on trying to make sense of the situation and approaching the boy with your hand out to help him down. “C’mon, help me to put the things back in the truck so we can go back to the Inn.”

Jisung reluctantly did as you said and Jeno started to wake up the others, everyone folded their tents and picked up the trash in silence, too tired and hungover to play around. If looked from afar, one might have you mistaken for extras on a zombie movie.

As you arrived back at the Inn, everyone crawled into their rooms without muttering a single word. You took advantage of the moment to take a shower since you were still in your bikins and Jaemin’s sweater, feeling completely disgusting after a day (mostly a night) of sweating. You were deep in your nirvana state of mind, enjoying the hot water relaxing your muscles and finally cleaning your hair of all that lake water, when you heard a bang at the door. You jumped in shock and looked over at the door instantly.

“Whoever is there, please let me in, I really need to pee!” Jisung screamed, fist still knocking on the door in urgency.

“You can use the bathroom downstairs!”

“Cockroaches,” He squealed before letting out a loud whine. “Please, I’m going to explode.”

You lightly groaned at the inconvenience before quickly shutting the water down and wrapping your towel around you, opening the door and signaling to Jisung that the bathroom was all his. He banged the door shut and you leaned against the hallway wall, waiting to return to your very good shower that you were missing very much after experiencing the chilly wind outside.

“Is there anything wrong?” Jaemin asked after opening his door, seeming like he had just woken up from a deep slumber.

You tried to act casually, like you weren’t standing around in just a towel, “Everything’s awesome.”

Jaemin had his mouth open to start saying something else when another door opened, an annoyed Haechan appearing behind it, “Who’s yelling and why?”

“Jisung needed to use the bathroom,” You explained, feeling way to exposed and embarrassed to elaborate.

“Can’t a guy ever sleep in peace?” Renjun’s suddenly appeared from his room, whining at his friends and rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“Ok, can everyone please stay inside their rooms for the next 30 seconds?!” You requested loudly in frustration, kind of laughing internally at the way Jeno was midway through opening his door before muttering a sorry and closing it back in super speed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Renjun apologized before going back to his nap, but you didn’t miss the way he gave you a once-over first.

“Enjoy your shower,” Jaemin smiled at you before copying his friend.

Haechan simply stood there staring at you and you looked at him in expectation and a ting of annoyance. The man smirked at you before winking, “Looking good.”

“Yeah, and very much naked, so if you could like, just go inside for a minute,” You politely requested.

“But that’s very much what I’d like to see,” He playfully flirted with a low voice so no one would hear, slowly approaching you. He gave you no time to react as he looked down at your chest, right hand suddenly pinching your hardened nipple and you gasped in surprise, “Cold?”

He looked up at you with a teasing look and you nodded with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to what he was playing. Haechan whispered a “cute” against your ear before returning to his room with a smirk, right on time for Jisung to open the door, “Thank you so much! I’m sorry for interrupting your shower. I think I had the content of two whole wine bottles in my bladder.”

“It’s ok,” You assured him absently, still bothered by Haechan’s antics. You honestly had thought he was all bark and no bite, you two have been playfully flirting since day one and you had guessed it was just part of your friendship dynamic considering you both always laughed about it.

Well, you could do nothing about it except from seeing where life would take you two.

_____________________________________________

After showering, you prepared some yogurt bowls with fruits and granola for breakfast, figuring you could all have a late lunch. Jaemin came downstairs after an hour and helped you out, stopping you from murdering another poor orange.

“Do you think everyone will be up for an activity today?” You asked, hoping they would opt for a more relaxing afternoon, as you were pretty much tired and hungover yourself.

Jaemin softly laughed, “If the activity is dying on the floor of the living room, yes.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Slept late?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you almost dropped the knife you were holding.

Does he know?

“I went to bed right after you did, red wine is just not my friend,” You awkwardly laughed, trying to calm your mind down. He couldn’t have heard anything over the loud singing yesterday and Jeno probably didn’t tell him.

Jaemin said nothing to that and you both enjoyed a semi-comfortable silence until he offered, “Want me to teach you how to peel an orange?”

“Theoretically speaking I know how to do it, I just can’t make my hands actually work,” You laughed, but moved closer so he could show you anyways.

“I’ll teach you an easier way then, it’s not ideal but it’s better than losing half of the orange,” He teased and you glared at him. “You just have to cut it in half like this, and then like this. Actually you can cut it as many times as you want to. When they are in slices like this you can just use your fingers to pull the peel away.”

“Oh, I think I can do that,” You exclaimed in excitement, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Hey, do you by any chance have more of that pineapple cake?”

“Chenle finished it but I can go to town to buy some more when we’re done with this. You can come along if you want to, they have a lot of options.”

“That sounds great.”

The two of you managed to quickly finish decorating the bowl, even adding some pretty flowers Jaemin went out to pick on top of it. After placing it all in the fridge so it wouldn’t become a mess until the others woke up, you scribbled down a note letting them know you had gone to the city and would be right back before heading outside to the car.

“Can I drive?” Jaemin asked jokingly, knowing your car was very dear to you.

“If you crash it, you’re giving me that watch,” You rolled your eyes, throwing the keys at him, who looked surprised at your compliance but laughed excitedly when catching the keys. His watch was probably worth more than your car anyways.

You hesitantly climbed into the passenger seat and tried to not say anything as Jaemin left the property in reverse, you hated riding shotgun.

He did look kind of hot, though.

“I know how to drive, you know? You don’t have to grip the handles so tight,” The man laughed once you were already on the road.

“I’m just not used to not being the one behind the wheel,” You apologized, forcing yourself to relax your hands on your lap so you wouldn’t offend a man’s driving’s skills. “Turn right on that street. Did you enjoy skiing?”

“I did, yesterday was just a fun day as a whole. You also looked really pretty in my sweater,” He looked at you softly and It took a lot of control for you to not melt into the seat.

“I’m giving it back as soon as I wash it, by the way. Thank you again for not letting me freeze.”

“Don’t worry. You can keep it, it looked better on you.”

“Jaemin, I know you’re trying to be a gentleman and all but that’s a Balenciaga swea-“

“And I’d like for you to have it.”

“I’m really living everyone’s fanfic’s dreams, aren’t I?” You giggled softly.

“Do you read those?” Jaemin chuckled.

“Of course. I live in the middle of nowhere, anything to pass the time. Follow that Sunny Mountain sign.”

“Ok. You should teach me how to find those, I’m curious as to what our fans write about us.”

“Uh, you really shouldn’t.”

“Dirty stuff?”

“Lots of it, probably.”

Jaemin laughed at that but said nothing more, deciding to pay attention to the road for once. You were distracted trying to find a cool Spotify playlist on your phone when you felt the man’s hand on your thigh, he didn’t move it and he didn’t look at you, just staring straight ahead with a casual demeanor like it was something you did all the time. You said nothing about it, just enjoyed the touch and followed his lead.

As you arrived at the city, you directed Jaemin around until you were parking right in front of the little traditional bakery.

“Good morning, Mary. Looking beautiful as always,” You complimented the old lady behind the counter, who you have known since you were a little girl. “Please tell me you made some pineapple cake.”

“My dear, if I didn’t I would run out of business,” Mary laughed. “I’ll wrap one up for you.”

“Thank you. Jaem, do you want to try something else?” You asked, pointing to the display in front of you full of a variety of cakes, which this region was famous for. “This is a banana one, it’s so good. The wine one is also tasty.”

Jaemin shivered at the word wine and you laughed because honestly, same.

“The banana one sounds good,” He agreed.

“Mary, I’ll take one half banana, half peach.”

The boy looked at you surprised that you remembered his favorite fruit and you just smiled at him, showing you were also paying attention.

“On it. Is that your boyfriend? I’ve been praying for you to find someone to keep you company in that big old house for ages,” The lady started, taking the cakes from the displays to cut them for you.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You joked, winking at Jaemin who gave you a teasing smile back. “But unfortunately he’s just a guest at the Inn.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, but it’s a pleasure to meet you anyways. Maybe it’s better this way, my Gus would be jealous.”

You laughed in joy at the mention of your childhood summer friend, “How is he? I miss him!”

“He’s doing amazing,” She answered with a smile when talking about her grandson, placing the cakes’ halves on a plastic plate. “He just graduated last year, rented me a fancy dress and all.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that! I need to congratulate him. When he’s back in town, can you ask him to drop by the Inn really quickly? We’re having some internet problems as always.”

“Of course, dear. He will love that, I bet he’ll come around by the weekend. Here’s your cakes! I’ll put it on your account.”

Jaemin helped you getting one of the boxes from the balcony and you got the other.

“Thank you, Mary! Have a nice day!”

“You kids too!”

You carefully placed the cakes on the back seats, wrapping the seatbelts around it so they wouldn’t move during the transportation as Jaemin looked around, appreciating the view.

“The city is pretty cute, right?”

“It is, actually. Is that an ice cream place?”

“Kind of. But they do have an ice cream buffet.”

“That sounds awesome, can we go there?”

“I guess the cakes won’t go bad in the car if we’re quick.”

“They won’t, it’s kind of cold today.”

“Right? I thought I was sick or something,” You complained, pouting at the temperature change.

“Here, let’s go freeze,” Jaemin laughed, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders and leading you across the street.

______________________________

You figured you liked Jaemin. As in, you really liked Jaemin. He was just so easy to talk to and a genuine funny caring guy – You didn’t see much of those anymore.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the town turned into a 2 hour long tour around all the little spots the city had to offer, playfully taking photos of each other like you were in a romantic movie or something. When you finally went back to the Inn, your heart was swollen and your cheeks were hurting from smiling too much.

“Be right back my ass,” Haechan welcomed you with a grunt.

“We took long but we brought cake,” You pinched his pouting face.

“Ok, I forgive you.”

“Are you guys hungry?”

“For cake? Yes,” Jisung excitedly exclaimed.

“I meant for real food, it’s past lunch time.”

“We actually just ate breakfast, Jeno is still sleeping,” Renjun informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll cook today,” Jaemin messed with your hair and you glared at him.

“No, you won’t. You’re a guest here.”

“And I’m a great cook, so get your ass back in bed and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“That’s rude of you, Na Jaemin,” You joked.

“Learning from the best.”

You glared at him but decided to accept your fate. After your nap with Jeno and your shower, you were not sleepy anymore, so you decided to invite the rest to sunbathe in the lower deck by the lake. Haechan and Mark were happy to join and the three of you sprawled around under the blue sky after changing into your bathing suits. You were struggling to get sunscreen on your back and Mark silently asked for the tube in your hand, doing It for you as Haechan blabbed about League of Legends – It was really hard to hide the chills across your skin when you were wearing basically no clothes.

After Mark got over being awkward because of your exposed skin, he was actually one of the most fun people to be around that you had ever hung out with. He literally laughed and got excited over everything you and Haechan said and it made you feel special, you definitely understood his charms now. Also, with him being from Canada and all, you two had a lot more in common than you had imagined, which was revitalizing.

Soon enough, both boys started bickering over something and you just closed your eyes and tried to drift off, this was supposed to be relaxing time. But then again, it was hard to put relaxing and Haechan in the same sentence.

After what seemed like ten minutes of the men next to you arguing, you suddenly heard your name and opened your eyes begrudgingly with a “Huh?”

“Help us. Who’s right?” Haechan asked.

“I ain’t even listening, I’m sorry.”

“Haechan over here seems to think he has a bigger chance with you than I do,” Mark smirked and you chocked around air. What kind of demon possessed Mark Lee’s body?

“Of course I do, don’t I?” It was Haechan’s turn to smirk at you and you just stared between them totally lost. They were arguing about song lyrics a few minutes ago, what the fuck happened? “So? Who’s right?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” Haechan lifted an eyebrow at you in a challenging way.

“Let her speak,” Mark cut him off and you felt goosebumps up your body once again at his strict tone. Damn, that was definitely not expected from Mark Lee.

“This is very unprofessional,” You muttered in shock, not really knowing what to say.

“Oh, c’mon. You think I didn’t hear your little show with Jeno the other night?” Mark laughed darkly and you shrank into yourself.

“What? What happened with Jeno?” Haechan asked confused.

“Nothing,” You quickly inform, trying to end that conversation.

Mark tsks and softly put your hair behind your ear, looking at you with endearing eyes, “Our pretty Y/N had some fun times with Jeno in their tent, didn’t she? Tell Haechan.”

You gulped and turned to Haechan, only nodding in shame because you were not about to admit you sucked his friend out loud. The boy’s eyes only widened and you could see Mark’s smirk from the corner of your eyes, what a wicked man.

“Guess none of us have a chance, then. Since Jeno got to you first,” Mark played and you briskly shook your head, feeling how you were already pulsing between your legs. The man raised an eyebrow at your reaction, like it wasn’t what he had planned, “Oh?”

“Please,” Was all that you managed to let out. Too embarrassed to elaborate.

“Kiss her,” He ordered and you noticed he was talking to Haechan, who smiled widely before bending down to capture your lips.

His kiss was playful like his personality, his hand found its place behind your neck and he lightly nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth, not allowing you to deepen the kiss like you wanted to. When you whined in frustration, you felt his smirk against your lips before he harshly grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, his tongue finally against yours.

Well, this was not how you expected your day to turn out.

You were so focused on how good it felt to melt into Haechan, that you jumped in shock when you felt Mark’s fingers playing with your bikini bottoms.

“Look how wet she it, Haechan,” He commented like he was hypnotized by the view and you two broke the kiss so he could look at where his friend was staring. Mark’s middle finger started to lightly circle your clit over the fabric and you moaned, hiding your face in shame. You were probably about to have sex. No, not sex. A threesome. With your guests!!!

“Y/N.”

“What?” You groaned.

“Y/N!”

You uncovered your eyes annoyed only to find Haechan and Mark staring at you weirdly, sitting up on their own beach towels like well-behaved boys.

“Did I fall asleep?” You asked confused.

“Yeah, we thought you were having a nightmare so we decided to wake you up,” Mark explained softly and you gulped.

“Thank you, it was horrible,” You lied, heart beating fast and chest heaving.

Mark and Haechan went back to arguing while you tried to recompose yourself, but as soon as Haechan shot you a knowing smirk, you quickly got up and left, figuring you could play cards with Renjun or something.

____________________________________

Jaemin didn’t lie when he said he was a good cook, and not only that, but he was also an organized worker, washing and cleaning everything right after using it. What a dreamy man. You were still too bothered over having a weird wet dream with your guests, who were right beside you, to think much about how amazing Jaemin was.

After everyone had lunch (and you decided to sit far far away from your sunbathing partners, safely cuddled between Chenle and Jisung at the end of the table), you washed all the dishes left while Jeno dried them, thankful that you two managed to not let things go south after your little encounter.

The Inn still had no internet so there was nothing much you could do with everyone being tired, so like Jaemin predicted, you all sprawled around the living room’s floor and played some games. After a few hours, you started getting tired of playing and turned the Tv on, trying to find the least terrible channel the Tv’s antenna could pick up, settling on a game show that got everyone pretty excited. Somehow you ended lying on Jaemin’s chest and you noticed Jeno giving you a look but couldn’t quite catch what he meant with it. He seemed normal with you after it, so you decided to let it go, realizing you were only overthinking things.

For dinner, you all had some leftovers from lunch and lots of cake. You had spent so many hours talking that you felt like you have known these boys since forever, or at least you wanted to. There was just not a moment around them when you weren’t laughing or smiling, and besides the obvious sexual tension moments, it felt really comfortable to be around them. Of course they could be annoying and inconvenient at times, they were men after all, but it was not hard to get over that.

Surprisingly enough, even after sleeping until way past noon, the boys were still tired and went to bed early with the promise of fun adventures for the next day. You and Renjun stayed back in the balcony talking about life and art, looking at the stars and drinking a glass of wine. It was nice sharing your deep thoughts with someone who matched your intensity and excitement, Renjun was indeed an artist and you loved experiencing the universe with him for a night.

When it was around 1 in the morning, the two of you said goodnight with a soft smile, knowing you two now shared a bond.

Entering your room and turning the lights on, you were surprised to find Jeno playing with his phone on your bed.

“Hey,” You offered confused.

He gave you an eye smile before dropping his phone on the bed, “Hey.”

“So, you’re in my room…”

“Just wanted to ask if I could sleep with you, it’s nice.”

“Oh, ok. Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just change,” You agreed and laughed at the way Jeno covered his eyes when you grabbed on the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, “I think we’re way past that, Jeno Lee.”

“Sorry, it’s automatic,” He explained as he dropped his hands back on the bed, watching you silently as you changed into your pajamas. You sleepily climbed into bed next to the man, both of you lying on your sides and staring at each other. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” You softly breathed out. This seemed all too familiar.

He delicately pressed his lips against yours, hand grabbing your cheek so his thumb could soothingly caress your cheek. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the soft touches, reciprocating the kiss with the same fluttering intensity. Jeno simply did that for a few minutes before breaking away from you and smiling, “Sorry, I just really wanted to kiss you.”

“It’s ok,” You giggled, content and in peace.

taglist: @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae @deantrblismyhusband @yukheisworld @chippijunxiao @kkakkdugi @luvenshiti @sleep-is-all-i-seek @aka-minhyuk-kun @elithereal @jenniferecand @tacojisung @tiramisubox @hobicore-smut @renjunniex @markresonates @hufflepanda221b @ncttboo @neejaatjeh @heyyyun @yutaalove @iwishihadabettername

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cheerstofandomfamily · 3 years

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Well it's officially been 15 hours since I began realizing that my hopes were about to be crushed, and my fears would become reality.

I stepped away from Supernatural earlier in season 15 because I knew the only ending to this show would be death for at least one brother. I knew that for my mental health I needed a break, or to step away entirely, from Tumblr and from the show. It was consuming me, and I was letting it.

I didn't think Destiel would ever happen. I had made my peace with that, and I left the show during a time where not a lot of drama was happening. It worked, and I was able to continue loving Destiel through fan fiction, and occasional moments that I would later on see on Tumblr.

Then 15x18 happened. And the whole world exploded in rainbows and black goo. And I said to myself, "Well if they're going to let THIS happen, then it might soften the blow of seeing one of my boys die a perma death."

It did not.

Supernatural, I cried myself to sleep last night. And I'm crying again writing this post, because you took my hope, gave me a HEARTBREAKING death scene, and then NOTHING to tape my heart back up again.

To Jared & Jensen - you performed the most emotional scene I have seen in an incredibly long time. And I applaud you for it. I'm mad at how it went down, but I give you credit for making me feel feelings.

To Misha - you deserved better than to be an extra they had to cut due to covid. I'm devastated for you.

To the Supernatural fandom - I don't know what I'll do without you guys now. I truly cannot grasp the reality that I'll never be able to analyze another gif set, or image of Dean's bedroom, or wonder if Sammy is going to get hit in the head again. I'll never see green and blue the same. I'll never be able to listen to Carry On My Wayward Son the same, if at all. I'll never hear the words "you changed me" again without wanting to punch something.

To the friends, and mutuals I was interacting with and had to step away from - I'm truly sorry that we have been so misled by the story. I've enjoyed the last two weeks immensely, and can't put into words how much I will miss this. (Alphabetically tagging a few specifics that have been either on my mind or in my notifications recently, but there are SO many of you that I will miss dearly.) @amyoatmeal @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @emblue-sparks @legendary-destiel @madimoo31 @mmangoss @mrsaquaman187 @savannadarkbaby @savemecastiel @shippsblog @spn-bitchh @spnjohnlocked @verobatto-angelxhunter @weird-dorky-little-d

Each and every one of you has made this experience so meaningful. You asked what about all this was real? What the point was? We are.

To the writers - I have no words. I know you did what you thought would be a great ending, and maybe I'll look back in another 15 years and be at peace with it.. there were some good moments, but for me I will always remember what was missing.

I understand now. You were the Empty and WE were Castiel. The moment we let ourselves be happy, you came for us. The moment we FORGOT and let the sun shine on our faces, you brought us to nothing. And then left us to burn with our regrets.

I suppose I should thank you for letting me see Sam shirtless one last time, but then you destroyed that with a stupid wig too. I should thank you for the fact that Cas was in heaven and was able to fix it with Jack, and spend eternity as TFW after all, but we didn't even get more than an eyebrow raise and half a smile. You couldn't have used his voice in this episode instead of 15x19? Now I'm mad about Lucifer again. I will never be over the fact that you thought we'd want to see him again, instead of literally any other character.

I'm ENRAGED. That you took my Sammy, and all his character growth, and leadership development, and said "the only peace for him is if everyone he loves is taken from him and is left with only one path in life, and that's the apple pie life where he can grow old and have a kid" WHAT.

I might add more later, I don't know. Right now I am sick with grief over this finale. I know I can't look at it objectively, I know a lot of people out there did enjoy it. I am not one of those people. And I knew better.

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alkhale · 3 years

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change the channel (Ko-Fi Request) Kenma Kozume/Camgirl!Omega!Reader

hello! Id love a kenma x reader fic (maybe a/b/o) ?? Also, thank you so so much for writing so many amazing fanfics :) every time I read a new chapter from any of your stories, it makes my day <3

OFC COURSE YOU CAN!!!! And thank you so much for your support and for your donation! AND THANK YOU!! I know this one is long overdue, but I hope you enjoy!

I’m also killing two birds with this one, it’s substituting for Typetober Day 16: back and forth (using change the channel instead)

title: change the channel

pairing: Kenma Kozume/Omega!Reader

rating: T/very slight M

summary:

Kenma taps his phone again, right back at your picture. He stares at you with wide, piercing eyes, leaning across the table and quickly saying, reverent and eager—

“I want to buy your game from you.”

Today, sitting here beside you in your bag, are fully equipped items to try and protect you from the creepy, deranged, rich stranger you’d been about to meet. Today, you were fully expecting to unleash a fury building up inside of you over an injustice you can’t tackle on your own in your society on some poor, unsuspecting alpha—

Here, sitting in front of you, is a self-claimed internet game streamer, who wants to buy your… special edition… game?

“You want…” you say, slowly, making sure you don’t have this wrong, “...my game?”

He nods.

You open your mouth. It closes. You open it again, raise a finger, and then press your lips together, staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “What?”

link to AO3 for easier reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446191

Omegachion has signed on!

The monitor screen flickers to life.

An empty room appears. A plush, pink cushioned desk chair is in view. Along the cream, soft colored walls are a series of posters that usual garner less attention. A bookshelf is tucked to the side, complete with a set of potted plants hanging in clean pots—clearly loved. Within the stack of books sits shelves stuffed full with what looks to be discs and an assortment of other items.

The website's main frame appears—SecondGlanceStreaming.com. The design is sleek and black—clean and unassuming. A password is prompted, followed by a series of typed keys and then a click.

On the side of the screen a chatroom appears, coupled with a monitored security system in place established by the website. A cherry icon pops to life. Once the chatroom opens, the entire website flickers with light.

Omegalovers has signed on.

Rockyroadncream has signed on.

Omegasarekings has signed on.

Cumqueen324 has signed on.

Mrknottt has signed on.

Msbyjackalboi23 has signed on.

Openwideandsmile has signed on.

Sunnydayandnight has signed on.

Marshmellowtime has signed on.

Thecoolestalpha has signed on.

Bettagetbeta has signed on.

KingKodzuken has signed on.

Kodzu00 has signed on.

The chatrooms explodes with messages. A series of greetings are quickly issued by long-time fans and watchers of the streams, asking how your day was and how you’re feeling. A few more perverse, slimy messages are mixed in-between, demanding for the crude and obscene. A few others snipe back, telling the users to get their hands out of their pants while a series of other users greet each other instead, talking about the excitement over tonight's stream.

You hang back a bit, one arm crossed under your chest, puffed up with the fleecy soft fabric of your jacket while the other hand holds a jelly drink, sipping it in silence. You watch the chatroom explode, quickly gaining more and more users as others signed on to your stream. You check the time on your phone, sighing before you finish off your drink and toss it into the trash can.

You place the fuzzy bunny mask over your eyes, checking how you look in the mirror. You swipe your mouth with your thumb, applying your lip gloss and then smiling cutely at your reflection.

“Alright,” you say. “The goal tonight is 7,000 cherries… you got this!”

You clap your hands over your face and beam. Showtime.

You slide into the monitor’s view, the webcam flickering to life. The chat comes back with more force, messages spamming into the box and a series of cherries already floating into the screen. You beam, laughing as you wave to your viewers and blow them all kisses. “Hello! Hello everyone! I love to see so many of you are so punctual… Needy omegas like me… we love reliable people, you know?”

You hold back a snicker as the chat increases with your words. People shooting messages back at you as you let out a cute giggle. Tonight’s outfit is nothing but a cotton candy pink fleece zip-up that falls to the top of your thighs, also exposing your bare, smooth collarbones. It’s a special occasion, so you’re going the extra mile.

“How are we all doing tonight?” you ask sweetly, holding your chin up with your hands as you watch the chatroom, skimming over the responses. “Aw, Bettagetbeta, I’m sorry to hear that! I hope things get better for you… do you need a hug?”

Cherry icons pop up over your screen. 50. 30. 10. You smile, opening your arms to the camera. “There! I’ll make all your problems go away, okay?”

You bat your eyes under the mask, showing them your bare wrists and giving them a little rub with your thumbs. “You can scent me if you’d like… would that make you feel better?”

Bettagetbeta has gifted you 30 cherries!

Bigboialpha has gifted you 350 cherries!

“Bigboialpha!” you squeak, covering your mouth with your hands. “That’s too sweet of you! Did you want to scent me that badly?”

Your chatroom shakes from the force of scrambled messages. You smile, shyly running a finger up and down the slightly swollen scent glands of your wrist. You’ve timed this just right—and just as you thought, your viewers notice too, instantly spamming the boxes with more fervent messages, begging to scent you, begging to be with you, wrap you up in their smells—

(God, you make me want to vomit.)

“If you’re extra good,” you say sweetly, “you could… maybe even…”

You tease show off more of your bare shoulder, showing a pink bra strap. You slightly expose the side of your neck, bringing your fingers up dangerously close to your most sensitive scent glands. Cherry icons flash across the screen and you hold back an excited grin, feet tapping anxiously underneath your desk.

There’s a new flurry of disgusting messages, of big, handsome alphas promising to do all kinds of things to you if you’d let them. You roll your eyes under your mask, holding back curling your lip in disgust as they prattle on about how they’d take care of you, make you feel so, so good and—

“All right, all right, that’s enough teasing, right?” you say. “Everyone, thank you so much for signing on again tonight! If you’re new to my streams, welcome! We’re so happy to have you. I’m lucky to have you. It’s a special night tonight, you know why?”

Gonna come for us on screen?

Face reveal! Face reveal!

Omegachion i would do anything for u

Pls let me touch u

Take off ur jacket

Stfu and let her talk u horn dogs

Fking disgusting dont ruin the stream

Open ur legs, baby girl

“Because!” you say, throwing your arms into the air. You spin once in your chair, showing off the room and stopping right in front of the screen again. “I just got it in the mail today…”

You bring up the sleek red box that’d been waiting to the side of your desk. You beam, showing it off to your viewers. “Tadah! Do you know what this is? It’s a gift from our generous website hosts—a gift for reaching the Gold Status on streaming! Everyone, thank you so much! I couldn’t have done this without you!”

The chatroom pops with congratulations. There’s some demanding comments, ordering for a consolation prize. You skim through them all, smiling a bit at the paragraphs of kind words and thanks. They’re the viewers you wish you could treat with a little more care, give them something a little more for all they do.

“Want to see what the gift was?” you ask. You pop open the lid and show off the gift—a dark red, leather collar coupled with a golden dog tag. It’s a stylish thing, slim fitted and clearly of great quality, there’s a thickened edge to the leather, coupled with a lock and key.

It’s an omega collar.

You smile through your teeth. The stench of the perfume from the box makes you want to wretch, but you hold it for the camera as your viewers beg you to put it on. “Oh, I don’t know… should I?”

You play with it, showing it off to them against the column of your neck. They’re feverish and desperate.

“I don’t deserve something this nice,” you say, shaking your head.

Tease

Don’t cover up that beautiful neck

Dont blueball us

I only want to see u in my collar

“That’s right,” you say innocently. “I don’t want to cover up what belongs to you guys…” you show off your neck to them again, touching with your fingertips your own bonding gland, unmarked and bare. The chatroom is almost unrecognizable, going off into a feeding frenzy.

You turn back to the screen, smiling.

(You’re like babies.)

You drop the box out of view of the camera into your trashcan, kicking it under the table with more force than necessary. You ought to burn the fucking thing but leather probably doesn’t burn well.

I can’t believe I’m already at 4,000 cherries. You feel excitement replace the disgust, toes curling against your hardwood floor. You got this, amp it up a little bit.

“Since I couldn’t have made it this far without all of you,” you say, touching a hand to your chest and playing with your zipper. “I wanted to do something special—not just this stream! But a nice little event, how does that sound?”

You click your mouse, opening up a new box and icon for your viewers. “Can everyone see the royalty program alright? Yeah? Perfect! If you look, you’ll see the cute little banner we had set up and everything.”

You hold up your phone, smiling beside it. “For these set prices, I’ll be doing a series of special events, just for all of you guys for all the support you’ve given me!”

You point.

“50 cherries and you get a sweet text with a picture from me,” you say. “Each picture will be different, and none of them alike! Keep it between us though, okay? Hehe, I mean it! For 100 cherries, I’ll do a one minute call and for 300 cherries, a three minute call, just with you! For 500, we’ll do a private web-chat session and finally, the big one…”

You smile, “For 1,500 cherries, I’ll be doing a special, in-person meet and greet! How does that sound?”

The reactions are instantaneous.

Cherries already start popping up all over your screen, users filling out the roles and eagerly thanking you for everything while others spit at the prices. You ignore those comments, secretly marking certain users to be blocked. You know the last one is outrageous, how could it not be? Did they think you’d want to meet with any of them? You’d discussed this with several other streamers and they’d all done similar things—this deterred creeps and kept you safe. Usually no one ended up doing the meet and greet. It was too expensive.

It was foolproof.

I can’t wait to hear your voice

Will it be nudes

I want nudes

Thank you so much for doing this!

“I should be the one thanking you guys!” you squeal. Your eyes dart to the corner of your screen, watching the cherries roll in. Your heartbeat accelerates and you do the quick math in your head. “Oh my goodness! Sitwhereveryoulike, thank you so much for the Cherries! And you too, theprettiestalpha! Thank you!”

As it should be. You grin at the screen, prattling on with sweet words and thanks. You teasingly unzip a little more of your jacket, greedily watching the cherries pop-up all over the screen, trying to make conversation where you can and—

A single chat bubble pops up in the corner. You almost miss the question, but you’re almost certain your eyes don’t betray you. If you hadn’t seen the title so many times, you would’ve blown right past it.

(But you’re a true fan, down to your core, you could never miss a mention of—)

Is your username based on Water Emblem?

“Hello, Kodzu00!” you say quickly, trying to stifle your surprise. “Yes, it is! You must be new to the streams.”

You gesture behind you, smiling shyly at the poster of Varth on the back of your wall. “I’m actually a bit of a fan! I know the series is old and everyone’s excited for the new reboots, but I grew up with the old one.”

Ah, stop right there, don’t keep talking about it. You’re going to lose viewers! Your fingers fly back to your zipper, teasingly dragging it down another inch. You could talk about Water Emblem for hours, but you can’t—this is a stream after all. “Bigboialpha! I guess we’ll be having that private webchat after all… mhm! I’m looking forward to it—huh? What I’ll be wearing? Well…”

You cutely run your fingers up and down the column of your neck, bringing their attention back to your scent glands. “Would you… pick for me?”

You almost gag at the comment suggestions. You watch more cherries roll in—shit, another 500? I might make my goal after all! No, you would make your goal. You have to. The sooner you rake in the dough from these streams, the sooner you could—

For the meet and greet, would it be in person?

You blink, startled by the question. You quickly glance back to the username. Kudzu00 again? “Uh, yes! Yes, it would be~ I’d pick a nice location for us and we’d meet. Wouldn’t that be nice everyone?”

For how long?

Who even is this lol

Damn big bucks

Show us the tits already

Pls sit on my face

Your outfit is so cute today!

You swallow nervously. Calm down. What are you even freaking out for? No one in their right mind was ever going to drop that much money to meet with some stranger from the internet—no one.

“Fifteen minutes,” you say cheerfully, keeping one eye on the chat. Have I seen this user before? “There’s a lot we could do—ah, I mean talk about in fifteen minutes, right?”

Kodzu00 is typing…

The chat bubble disappears. You eye it for a few more seconds before shrugging your shoulders. Shake it off. You needed to keep this celebration stream going. You slyly bring your bare knees up and watch the chat go a little more wild, quick questions being shot about whether or not you’re wearing anything under that jacket. You keep the conversations going, sweetly asking the users about what they’d like to do, what kind of pictures and if—

A bright icon flashes on your screen. You glance over.

Kodzu00 has gifted you 3,000 cherries!

You freeze.

On your monitor the chat continues to fire off. A few people notice the notification. You blink, once, twice, before taking a second glance at the numbers.

3,000.

3,000 cherries?

3,000….

The calculation is quick in your head. You’re terribly good with money, sadly. The final statement minus the small deduction for processing appears in your mind’s eye and you balk.

HOLY FUCK.

Lol i think u broke her

God damn

Congratulations, Omegachion!

“K-K-Kodzu00!” you say, head spinning. “Thank you so much! Oh—oh my goodness! Thank you so much for your donation!” What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck— “I can’t believe you’d be so generous! Thank you so much! I’m so excited to meet you! Our first meet and greet!”

WHAT THE FUCK?

You quickly try to hold your composure, continuing with the stream. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Finish the show! You laugh, trying not to look at the history of the notification and focusing on your show instead. You thank every piece of good sense inside you for using a mask, hiding the sweat rolling down your face as you teasingly stand up for your audience, bending down a bit.

“Now, how about we end the night with a little… cuddle, hmm?” you say shakily, unzipping your jacket the rest of the way to show off the lacy, soft pink color of your bra. The chat bubbles pop up by the dozens, but you never see even a lick of Kodzu00 again. What the hell? “C’mon, you know how badly I wish you were here to scent me… wrap me up in that smell of yours…”

(Give them what they all want.)

What feels like hours finally passes in a span of minutes and you quickly say goodbye to your watchers, blowing them a kiss and zipping your jacket backup as you finally sign off. You sit there, staring at the screen of your loading page, dumbfounded.

Limply, your finger finds its way to your mouse. You give it a click.

The final total for your earnings tonight appears in a tacky, almost shady colored box. You stare at it in silence.

9,750 Cherries.

Nine…. Nine thousand…

Almost 1,000,000 yen?

“Yes!” you screech, grabbing your head with your hands as you fly up from your chair. You kick the stupid, plush pink thing aside. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

This is insane! You almost want to cry in disbelief. This is—this is it! This is what I needed! I’m so close! I’m so close! You know the other streams won’t rake in nearly as much, but this is the final push you needed—if you kept up this kind of participation for another few months, your fees would be nothing! You’d be able to even afford a little extra and get something nice, replace your bathtub and treat yourself to an expensive dinner and all thanks to this stupid job and—

The grand, generous donation of Kodzu00—

You freeze. Your pure, unrestrained elation plummets. Reality clocks you sideways in the face and you slap yourself for being so dumb—how could I even forget? Your eyes dart back to the screen and you pull up the donation history, staring in dark silence at the simple, blaring donation of cherries, already transferred to your account and not even pending and—

Your joy is quickly replaced with something much more dire. You gape at the amount. The award title beside it appears. You stare.

And stare.

A thirty minute meet and greet.

You’d be meeting in person with this person for at least half and hour and—

What the hell?

You power off your screens, flying to your room and kicking the streaming room door shut behind you. You lunge for your bed, scrambling for your laptop, covered in Water Emblem stickers. You pop it open, quickly pulling up your admin account for the streaming sight and accessing your private passwords. You pull up the user history for all your past streams, typing in the username Kodzu00—

Nothing?

You stare at the blank history. The only entry is tonight’s stream. The very first time this user has ever showed up.

Alarm bells start ringing in your head. You pull up your emergency tab, a self-made list of all your red-flag boxes to check in cases like this for your safety. You click on Kodzu00’s account, searching through their profile.

MADE THIS MORNING? You gape in disbelief, staring at the entirely blank profile. It’s even void of an icon for a profile pic. The account was literally made today, just for this stream, and this god damn stranger just gifted you basically 300,000 yen—

This is insane! All your alarm bells nearly fall off their stands. You search for any kind of information, scrambling and double-checking your banned users lists for any potential matches. Was it some creep trying to meet you from before? A stalker? Were they under a different name and made the separate account just to do this to you so they wouldn’t get caught? What’s their deal?

(What’s your selling point for this whole thing?)

You pause, fingers halting over your keyboard.

You’ve had rich donations before. Users with too much time and money on their hands—users you’re gladly willing to take from in the pursuit of a better life for yourself. Your crowd ranges anyway; from nervous, shy little dorks to kind, quiet people looking for company to disgusting, wretched lechers and stupid alphas who like nothing more than little, docile omegas to rub their garbage scent over—

You stare at Kodzu00’s user profile, feeling something bitter and dark and ugly bubble up in the pits of your stomach.

Any person, male or female, who’d be willing to drop that much money to meet with a streamer like you, notorious for what you do, for what you market—can’t be a good person by any means.

They only want one thing.

You grind your teeth, knowing you’ve got no choice but to reap what you sowed. This was the path to quick cash you chose, so you can’t back down now. You’ll just have to do everything in your power to make sure you remain successful.

You close your laptop screen, ripping your stupid mask off your face and tossing it to the side.

You weren’t backing down.

--- (change the channel) ----

You started streaming in high school.

The middle of your last year, to be exact.

It started off simple enough, to be honest. Nothing eventful, nothing worth writing biographies or harrowing documentaries off of. It was another story amidst the thousands in Tokyo’s Metropolitan streets.

By all legal health records and means, you are an omega.

(What does that mean?)

Within Tokyo’s urban and suburban streets, it means a collection of different ideals and social norms. It means nothing to plenty, it means everything to others—to your youthful eyes growing up, it’d just meant you were a little different from some of your other peers, but not isolated, no, never isolated—there were other omegas, after all, despite the smaller population.

You get along with people fine. You make friends fine, have a few crushes, get average enough grades and have a particular fondness for social media—you just live your life on top of having to deal with certain physiological functions others around you may not experience the same.

You think by all means until your last year of high school, that it really does mean nothing. Society is so modern now, people don’t even blink, right? There’s none of those second gender stereotypes or outrageous cult worships—you’re just another person trying to live their life to the fullest.

“A doctor? Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

You smiled at your teacher in the faculty office. See? Normal—

You stopped.

“See, that’s a great dream,” the teacher said, pointing to your paper. He tapped it, scratching his rough stubble. “But it’s not very realistic with your current standing, you know?”

“You mean my grades? I can work extra hard. They’ve been more than above passing, and what really matters is the entrance exams and testing—”

“Not just that,” he said. He pulled up your student file. He gave you a second look, up and down, and he seemed to find pity in your hopefully confused expression. “Listen, (L/n), here’s the thing—a doctor… is a pretty important position, you know? Very important.”

You nodded like you didn’t already know that. Like you hadn’t been spending the last years of your educational life aspiring toward that goal, that dream.

“They need to be physically… available,” your teacher said. “They have to work outrageous shift hours, they have to work hard on top of that, and then they have to take special medication to regulate their pheromones if they need to, and then the schooling on top of all that is hard work.”

You waited for your teacher to explain why any of those things was supposed to get in the way of your one and only dream of saving lives.

“I’ll make this easy for you to understand, kid,” you teacher said. He taps his nametag, pointing to his little alpha symbol.

“Omegas just don’t become doctors.”

Your dainty, prettily crafted world of normalcy and mundane content shattered around you in one violent, screeching halt.

You smiled at your teacher, nails digging painfully into your thighs.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just not a typical job preference,” your teacher said. “Look, you’re not the only one, I promise. There are a few omega doctors, sure, we need them anyway to make things easier or make sense of stuff alpha based doctors or betas might not understand, but the demand isn’t high and the placement is extremely competitive. Trust me, kid. I know.”

You kind of wanted to spit at your teacher that no, this pot-bellied, alpha gym teacher couldn’t possibly know more than you do about trying to break into the medical industry as an omega. But the thing is—what are the statistics? You hardly see any. Every website you’d researched thus far has always been welcoming, nowhere on their platforms or pamphlets saying anything about omegas being doctors or not and—

You froze.

“Everyone is welcome!” the videos all said. “Everyone is encouraged to try!”

“This is the real truth,” your teacher said. “They’ll all tell you you can do it because they’re not allowed to discriminate or turn anyone away. They’ll let you do whatever you want, but when it really comes down to the acceptances or not? You’ll just get turned away and you’ll have wasted all that time for nothing.

“Omegas aren’t considered suitable candidates for doctors,” your teacher said. “That market tends to go to betas, believe it or not. A nice little mediator.”

Your teacher tossed your career planning forms onto a stack of dozens. You stared at it, smiling continuously with your fingers digging harder into your thighs. He sighed, waving a hand.

“You should shoot for a hospital receptionist,” your teacher said. “It’s the next best thing, right? Or you could teach biology at a school instead. You might even be able to get by as a school nurse—”

“I’m going to apply to medical school.”

Your teacher stopped, looking at you.

You smiled back at him.

(Being an omega was supposed to stop you?)

What a load of shit.

“I don’t really care about anything else,” you said. “I’ve wanted to become a doctor my whole life. If people say I can’t do it because of something they can’t even see, then I’m still going to do it. They can’t stop me.”

Your teacher stared at you for a few minutes. He leaned back in his chair, considering his next words before he finally said—

“You got the money?”

You stopped.

Your family is pitifully lower middle class. Your parents make enough to pay the bills, afford a vacation every now and then, and just get by fair enough without being too stressed—but small issues, like your own medical costs for heat suppressants or a flat tire can easily set your family back several paychecks.

No, you don’t have money for medical school. You’d already known that looking at all the pamphlets. But there were scholarships and stipends and loans—

“If you want to waste your time with this pipe dream, it’s not my job to stop you,” he said, pointing to your career form. “It’s not really ethical either, so don’t come back and file any lawsuits against me. But your medical schools don’t offer many scholarships, and the ones they do aren’t going to go to that one, average ranking omega they’d rather not even have to worry about.”

Your teacher shrugged.

“Go ahead and be a doctor, kid, but you’re going to need money to do it.”

(This is the reality. People are not equal. Being an omega means—)

Means what?

-- ---- (change the channel) ----

You remember laying in your bed that night, scrolling mindlessly through random social media outlets. You’d spent the last several hours searching extensively for any and all scholarships you might even remotely be able to apply for, but none of them seemed willing to help an omega into their waiting hospital wings—your best bet was going to be taking out a loan. Several. That’s on top of cram school costs, textbooks, entrance fees and whether or not I can pass the exam—

No, you would. You had too. You weren’t about to let some stupid, invisible consensus a group of people somewhere or another had decided on stop you.

“Thank you again for the generous donations! You guys are too good to me!”

You’d paused, staring at your bright screen. One of the streamers you followed from time to time—he was an omega, cute and docile and in all honesty, probably the picture perfect cookie cutter definition of one. He always posted great tips on fashion or about cute cafes he enjoyed, and always seemed to be proud of the fact that he was an omega despite how cringingly he played into the stereotypes—

You glanced at his caption, freezing in disbelief.

Designer bags littered his floor. He showed off his pretty watch, batting his lashes at the camera, talking about how the donations from last night’s stream helped him live a good, cushiony life, making him feel like he was being taken care of even without an alpha by his side.

You’d stalked his account almost religiously for the next few weeks, watching his streams, watching the way he… flaunted his nature as an omega. Your parents had always told you you were fine the way you were, but being an omega had never been something to be proud of—you’d just preferred to act like a beta more than anything else. What was the point? To some extent, your teacher was right, there were no benefits to being an omega except—

“Thank you again for all your donations!”

You pulled up your laptop, searching extensively for every little obscure article you could find on the nature of streaming services. You’d never taken social media outlets that seriously, always looked at influencers and vloggers with a grain of salt—you were aspiring to be a full-time heart surgeon after all, but if there was actually something...reasonable behind the way all these people would act, proudly showing off the fact that they were omegas in exchange for something monetary…

(Did people enjoy this?)

Yeah you can make money from it, lol.

You stared at the internet thread, blinking in disbelief.

One user amongst thousands in the thread had responded to your question.

Ppl always keep saying that omegas are this and that. Society likes to paint a pretty picture of what we call equality. Ads and those videos u watch in school and stuff, they all tell u you can be whatever u want to be if u try, but that’s not rlly the truth. The only thing they were honest about was that you’d have to work hard for what you want in life.

You scrolled down.

You have to do the research on ur own and find respectable sites. I can give u recommendations, but u have to kind of get yourself prepared for what you’re signing up for too. Everyone likes to go on television and talk about how all three genders are the same, but we’re not. It’s not even just whether ur female or male anymore, everyone always finds something to pick at, don’t they?

U might get hate for it but whatever, those people who sit on a nicer chair than you and don’t pay your bills don’t get to criticize you for what you want to do and how u do it.

They always tell us we can’t do things because we’re omegas. That we have to be a certain way because we’re omegas and we’re only good for one thing.

So just give them what they want.

And suck them dry.

You remember clearly, that night, pulling up the user’s account and shooting them the message that would change your life.

What sites do you recommend for beginners?

Youcanruletheworld is typing…

----- (change the channel) -----

You triple check all your items, rearranging them on your bed in front of you.

Your outfit is cute, matching your streamer personality but remaining modest enough to keep you protected from unwanted attention. You’ll be wearing a face mask on top of it, just for the extra mile too. You’d already reached out to this Kodzu00 and sent them the notification for where to meet and when, and what you’d look like so they’d be able to find you. Wisely, as always, you picked a neutral location—an extremely popular cafe two hours away from your house just to be safe.

Safety alarm—check. Pepper spray, check. Pheromone repellent, check. Emergency contact button, check. Location synced devices and emergency heat suppressant pills on top of—

You stare at the last item. It comes special with the standard emergency omega safety kit—you almost spit at the name—it’s a quick, easy attachable lock-on collar to protect your bonding glands in the case of an unruly and disgusting attack.

You want to call it ridiculous.

(Behind your eyes you see the comments scrolling over the glowing screen. You see the leering words and the lecherous promises and the disgusting sentences that rattle your brain and make you stand a minute longer in the shower, fingernails digging into your skin—)

You don’t say anything, zipping the bag closed and taking all your items with you.

---- (change the channel) -----

Thirty minutes, it’s just thirty minutes, you can do this. You aggressively slurp on your straw, furiously dogging the cafe patrons with your eyes, keeping them narrowed and peeled for anyone who ought to fit the bill over what you were expecting to meet today. Thirty minutes.

The black iced coffee with an added two shots isn’t doing anything to calm your nerves, but it’s doing everything you need to keep yourself pumped and ready to go at a moment’s notice. The cafe is busy, just as always, with people swarming left and right, in and out—this creep won’t be able to do any of their normal creep tendencies in a place like this.

You bite your straw, tapping your feet under the table.

Alright, Kodzu00, do your worst. I’m leaving here after the thirty and I’m taking the cash with me—

“Excuse me,” you stop, mouth hovering and open over your near chewed through straw, “are you… uh… Omegachion?”

Hearing your streamer username in real life makes you both want to gag and sigh in happiness. The username was arguably the only way for you to feel remotely sane logging into the streaming service every time for your scheduled program because Water Emblem got you through anything, including all the cram sessions to get into medical school.

Your eyes swing rapidly to your right, moving your head so fast you take your straw with you.

Ice coffee drips onto the table.

The young man standing in front of you is… is, truthfully, not what you expected. Okay, sure, weirdos on the internet come in all shapes and sizes, but to your own bias, you’ve crafted a bit of a face for the specific types of users who flood your streams. He narrowly passes even an inch of those ideas, with the slightly messy hair, the baggy clothes that look like all he does is stay in front of his computer all day and the dark lines under his eyes, but other than that—

He’s a lean young man, from what you can barely tell, underneath the baggy black sweatshirts and the sleek black joggers, lined in white with a logo you don’t recognize. There’s a dark cap on top of his head as well, and he’s sporting a simple black face mask, just like you—the most color the damn guy has is the bleached blonde tips still growing out past his roots, spilling a bit past his shoulders while the rest is gathered back into a bun.

In an instant you quickly size him up—the guy’s probably only a few inches taller than you and he can’t be that much older or younger, somewhere probably around your age.

You pluck out your straw. He squints faintly at you, holding his phone, glancing back at his screen and then back to you and shifting, albeit uncertainly. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.

“You’re,” you start, “uh, you’re Kodzu00?”

“Yes,” he says. “That’s… me.”

You stare.

He stares right back.

(His golden eyes are almost like slits, you realize, a bit stunned, they drip gold and heather.)

He has pretty eyes.

“It’s,” he says, awkward, not sounding friendly at all, “...nice to meet you…”

And then reality comes back, this time with a spinning roundhouse right to your face.

This is the guy who just dropped money to come and meet you here today.

This guy.

You stare at him in disbelief.

Kodzu00 stands there in front of you, looking as though he wished he could melt right through the floor and disappear. He slowly starts to make his way into the chair opposite of you, pulling it out and taking a seat, setting his phone down beside him like it’s a lifeline and—

Your eyes bulge at the sight of his watch. You know how much that watch costs.

Your alarm bells start firing off again. For a brief moment, unease colors your scent, lightly flooding the area until you instantly reel it back in. Kodzu00 glances up at you for a second but you keep your face calm and friendly, quickly slipping back into your streamer personality, your best mask and first line of defense against whatever the hell this weirdo wants with you and time is ticking—

Before you can even utter a single word, Kodzu00 pulls down his mask.

(He’s… well, he’s not bad looking either, in a… weird kind of way.)

“Look, I need to clear the air first and get this on the table,” he says it a bit quickly, despite the low, almost uncaring inclination to his tone. You blink at him. The tips of his ears are staining pink beneath the fading streaks of blonde and he continues, “I’m not here for your streams.”

You blink.

You stare at him, dumbfounded and hopelessly confused.

“I’ve never even seen them before until last night,” he says just as quickly, looking embarrassed to even utter those words. “Let’s get that straight, okay? So I’m not… here for… that.”

That.

“That?” you say like a robot.

He looks more and more uncomfortable, but he presses on, whispering quickly over the table, “Yeah. I’m not here for… that. So… you can… uh… just be normal, I guess.”

You stare at Kodzu00, the man who’s just payed off nearly the last of your student loans in debt, who’s only here in front of you today because he got in touch with you through one of those very streams which very much markets that, which is meant to appeal to all the what-nots who just want to see an omega bat her eyelashes and act like an omega, to feel comforted or have their egos stroked and—

“I don’t watch any streams like that,” he adds for good measure. “I don’t. One of my viewers reached out to me because… well… because they watched your streams and noticed something and mentioned it to me, so I wanted to check it out myself.”

Oh my god. You sit there in the middle of the bustling cafe. Am I about to die? This is it, isn’t it. Kodzu00 is actually some kind of crazy internet stalker or person and you’re about to get stabbed right across the cafe table and this will be the end, you’ll never even get to save anyone’s life or help anyone and their bad hearts or do anything beyond your stupid streams and that’s all you’ll be remembered for.

“Kodzu00 is just a name I made for that night,” he says quickly. “Online I run a gaming channel under the user Kodzuken—you can just call me Kenma though. Kenma Kozume.”

“Uh,” you say. “Kucina. You can call me Kucina.” You are not giving your real name out to this stranger who can potentially threaten your entire standing in your medical career and out you for the unethical nature of how you’ve been procuring money to pay your school fees—

Kenma briefly pauses, eyes flickering up to you. He looks a bit pleased with your choice of alias but quickly glances back to his phone. You feel, strangely, a little… a little happy too.

Wait, wait, wait. No, this guy is a weirdo and don’t forget that he’s a complete stranger online claiming to be a game streamer and—

“The only reason I’m here today is for this,” he says, pulling out his phone. You instantly grow wary, inching back a bit from the table. There’s a bit of excitement finally creeping into his otherwise mundane voice, and it’s giving you the spooks. Kenma taps, quickly navigating his screen before he pulls up one blurred, pixelated image and turns his screen to show it to you.

“Why is this a screenshot of my room?” you say roughly, narrowing your eyes at him. You point to the screen shot of your streaming room and your face caught mid-speech, making you look dumb. “What are you trying to—”

“It’s not that,” he says, sounding a bit stressed out by this whole ordeal. He looks visibly uncomfortable with the image of you, only in your bright pink bra and you raise an eyebrow at him, suspicious as he zooms in and quickly moves the screen to—

“This,” he says, fervent, almost reverent actually, “is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Carefully, still suspicious, you lean over the table and look closer at his phone screen. You follow his finger, quickly recognizing your bookshelf, your posters, and then right beside Kenma’s fingertip is—

You blink.

You know exactly what he’s pointing to.

You also know exactly what it looks like in perfect detail despite the blurry picture. It’s a large box, big enough to hold against your chest, sleek white and blue, with silver lettering line in a kind of glowing, aqua teal—the cover art for the product had been top of the line, complete with an engraved metal clasp that opened up to reveal an entire, glossy artbook, coupled with a cd of the game’s soundtrack and also—

“Water Emblem’s Special Anniversary Edition?”

“Yes!” he almost shouts. You jump. Kenma quickly gestures to his screen, to your room and your game and points at it with fervor. His eyes are actually shiny, you stare at him, a little in awe. “Do you know what this is?”

“Of course I do!” you say, offended. “I own the game. It’s Water Emblem: Light Dragon! Personally my favorite game in the entire franchise and the game that really got the series into the world market—it’s part of what started its entire cult following. This is the special edition that came out years ago, wow, I can’t believe it’s been so long! I remember waiting in line for it and—”

“That’s exactly it!” Kenma says, throwing his hands up into hair, grabbing it beneath his cap. You blink at him, getting a little excited. “This game—this particular edition re-launched for one night of sales only in the creator’s hometown and here in Tokyo! It came with a companion edition and most people were only able to get one or the other because it was sold on opposite ends of Japan!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I know! I stayed with relatives in the summer and timed it out so I could grab it! They only sold so little copies… that was the best night of my life, I couldn’t believe it, even though the game didn’t seem to do that well at first until later…”

“Because no one respected the greatness of the game back then,” Kenma says bitterly. You nod. “Now everyone knows but the rest of the editions have all either been trashed or are kept by collectors somewhere else, I’ve been searching for years for a copy that was at least still playable, even without the extra goods—”

“But the goods are the best part!” you shout in disbelief. Kenma looks at you like your crazy. “The art book, the soundtrack, the interview with the creator—they all play their part in bringing the game to life!”

“This is what I wanted to discuss with you,” Kenma says seriously, lacing his fingers nervously together and staring you down across the table. You suddenly feel uneasy, unnerved by the piercing, golden gaze.

“You own what might very well be one of the last, in-tact, best kept qualities of this edition in Japan,” Kenma says. “When this edition and its counterpart launched, the second issue, the black one—it came with a playable DLC code that can only be activated when you have its partner code and it unlocks an entirely new, almost never played secret storyline that’s supposed to reveal another part of the story—”

“I heard about that,” you say in disbelief. “But I thought it was just an online rumour because no one ever proved it or could figure out the code…”

“Because no one could figure it out,” Kenma says, getting the loudest you’ve heard him since. You stare at him with wide, round eyes. “But recently because of the work I’ve been doing, I was able to meet with the creator—”

“YOU MET WITH THE CREATOR OF—”

Kenma furiously motions for you to shush. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching him with round, adoring eyes, sparkling in disbelief. This guy right here in front of you got to meet your hero—the envy and awe collide altogether, rumbling up and—

(Your heart starts to do something a little funny in your chest.)

Who even is this guy?

“He gave me a hint and I was able to find the code in the other edition,” Kenma says, quickly pushing his phone to you to show a picture and you blink, eyes shiny. “Which I currently own because I was able to secure one when it came out in Tokyo. But your edition is the last part I need to unlock the unplayable path.”

This guy… you lean back in your chair, unable to stop the excited tap of your feet. This guy—he loves Water Emblem. He’s crazy for it! I don’t know anyone except people online who like it this much and he’s…

“That’s why,” Kenma coughs suddenly, becoming smaller in his seat. You stare at him with a raised brow. “I needed… to get in touch… with you.”

You blink, remembering the whole reason the two of you were even meeting in the first place.

Your cheeks grow hot, bright red in a flash of rare embarrassment. Kenma’s ears are just as red, but he pretends it’s not even happening, continuing on.

“Why didn’t you just… message me,” you squeak out, feeling more and more mortified that this man has literally paid you thousands just to be here and… it’s not even… a scam. It’s about your favorite thing ever. Water Emblem! “Instead of… my streams…”

“That was the only way I knew how to contact you,” Kenma says, looking a bit defensive. “I told you, I’ve never seen your streams before. One of my viewers told me and you keep everything private, so this felt like my only chance.”

You open your mouth, feeling more and more uncomfortable but Kenma sweeps in, “Keep the money. It… works out better this way anyway.”

You stare at him in confusion.

Kenma taps his phone again, right back at your picture. He stares at you with wide, piercing eyes, leaning across the table and quickly saying, reverent and eager—

“I want to buy your game from you.”

Here, sitting in front of you, is a self-claimed internet game streamer, who wants to buy your… special edition… game?

“You want…” you say, slowly, making sure you don’t have this wrong, “...my game?”

He nods.

You open your mouth. It closes. You open it again, raise a finger, and then press your lips together, staring at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “What?”

“This might be my only chance ever to play the game,” Kenma continues, pulling up another tab and clicking away at his phone. He tucks a strand of blonde behind his ear and the action is almost endearing to you until the reality of his words slowly starts to creep into the forefront. “I’ve never found another edition like yours, and it seems like it’s in perfect condition too. I’d be willing to buy it at complete full, current market price—”

“Market price?” you say in disbelief. “How much is my game going for?”

Kenma looks at you in blatant disbelief. You raise a critical brow at him.

Wordlessly he turns his phone back over to you and you glance down—

You almost fall out of your chair. Kenma doesn’t look impressed, hunkering back down and taking his phone as you spin, head swirling at the numbers and figures, math flying around in your head at the sudden realization that all that money could literally be yours, that the game you love so much is worth that much, that all that money, all that money you’ve been trying so desperately to scrape for could just—just fall into your lap—

You could pay off all your loans with that kind of money. You could… you could stop streaming with that kind of money, finally wash your hands of it and get back on track and hardly have to worry as you work toward the job of your dreams and…

“I want to buy your game.”

Your heart quiets. The fancy dreams stop. You sit there in the chair, head buzzing with the reality of what he’s asking of you.

He wants to buy your game.

Your game.

And you think then, about a moment far away from this one. About a time when the books and papers crowding around you made you feel like drowning, about lonely summers and arguments bouncing off the rooms around you, and a time where there was nothing else but that loading screen and that game to take you away from all of it…

(The game that you’ve kept all these years, loved all these years, because it…)

“I’d be willing to pay whatever works best for you,” Kenma continues, the excitement is low in his quiet voice and his eyes sparkle as he shows you his phone. “I can even pay upfront in cash, have a fund drawn up or—”

“I’m really sorry.”

It’s the first time in a long time you’ve ever felt the need to apologize to anyone. Not when the whole world has been treating you like the sorry sack for so long.

Kenma glances up. His expression is calm, unreadable, but you get the feeling he can see right through you so you stare at the tabletop instead.

“I don’t know…” you start. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sell that game to you.”

(He doesn’t seem like a bad guy.)

Anyone that talks about Water Emblem with as much love in his voice as he does can’t be, not at all by your books. His methods of getting to you here today might’ve been outrageous and roundabout, but you’re not really doing things the normal way either, so who are you to judge?

But that game…

You risk a glance up. You stop, staring in surprise when Kenma doesn’t look the slightest bit outraged or tense or anything. He looks just a bit disappointed, but the only thing you really see is understanding and something like a bit of grudging envy, a warmth in his gaze you don’t think is particularly meant for you but still comes through regardless.

“I was,” Kenma admits, a bit quiet. “Worried that would be the case.”

“Do you want,” you start quickly. Kenma looks at you. “Do you want to, uh, see it, at least? Take a look… see if it’s even in the condition you want?”

(You just… you can’t sell it, but you don’t want this conversation to end. It’s been so long since you’ve talked with anyone about this game, it’s felt so long since you talked to anyone in general and…)

Maybe, just maybe.

(You feel a little desperate.)

“Uh,” Kenma says, awkward. “Is that… fine?”

“Well, sure!” you say, hoping you don’t sound too eager. “Of course it isn’t a problem! I mean, I know we just met, but you seem pretty legit and I can just check you out later—plus, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, even against an—”

You stop, sniffing the air. Kenma doesn’t look bothered, but he rubs the back of his neck.

And you realize, suddenly, you haven’t smelled a single damn thing because Kenma Kozume is—

A beta.

(Oh.)

---- (change the channel) ----

The entire way back to your apartment, Kodzu00, or as you now know him, Kenma Kozume, complains.

He does it quietly, but he still complains.

“We could just take a taxi,” Kenma says, quiet and unhappy when you start making your way toward the train station. “I can pay for it…”

“It’s easy to remember an address but tough to remember a bunch of stations and stops,” you say, ignoring his offer. Kenma follows, unhappy but he still follows. It’s kind of cute.

He walks with a bit of a hunch, you notice. Like he’s doing everything he can to remain out of everyone’s vision, but he watches, careful and observant because he avoids people before they have the chance to bump into him, glancing this way and that and picking things out with particular ease.

Kenma doesn’t look very confident, but he’s comfortable. You stand there beside him on the train, calmly holding onto the railing while he taps away at his phone beside you, sighing every now and then. He’s different, you realize, very different, from what you’ve become accustomed to when it comes to the kinds of people you let surround you for the sake of money.

You almost want to say it’s because he’s a beta, but you feel that’s a disservice in all its entirety. Maybe Kenma will turn out to be a snob of some kind. The guy’s strangely loaded.

You sneak searches on your phone, paling at the articles about him that come up, about stocks and investments and companies and you realize in seconds, this guy is completely and utterly the real deal.

But despite everything, Kenma still does as you ask. He lets you lead as you navigate the string of trains to get back home, doesn’t ask any questions, only comments on the occasional thing, and the entire affair is two hours, but he doesn’t even blink.

Either he really, really wants this game, you think, or he’s just weird.

Quiet, weird, but fairly quaint, and you’re a little alarmed by how much you… like that.

(You’re a weird guy.)

A rude, burly man makes a pass at you on the last train home, breathing down your neck and letting his greasy fingers try to slide against yours on the same railing handle. Kenma makes a face, eyes narrowed into slits in disgust and he quickly looks at you, blinking at your unbothered, nonchalant expression.

His scent wafts over you, thick and uninviting. Alpha. You rub your nose, inhaling your own familiar scent. Kenma looks more and more uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, starting to lean your way and scanning for open seats when you calmly turn to the man directly behind you, meeting him dead in the eye.

“Get,” you say calmly, digging your fingernails into his skin, threatening to draw blood—the man stiffens, he pales, surprised, startled by your confrontation— ��The fuck away from me before I scream.”

He scurries back, shouldering past people in seconds. A few people shoot him disgusted looks, glancing your way in pity—but you ignore all of them too. They didn’t care seconds ago when they knew what he was doing, if you hadn’t done anything, they wouldn’t have either.

That’s just how it goes.

“Sorry,” you say, even though you probably shouldn’t. You look at Kenma, lips curling a bit. “I was expecting to meet a guy like that today instead of you. I think all that pent up anger and anxiety needed to go somewhere.”

Kenma opens his mouth, closes it, stays quiet for what feels like minutes and then he starts up again.

“You don’t really act the same way you do on your streams, do you?”

“Of course not,” you say. “If I acted like that in real life—no offense to anyone who does though—I’d probably lose my shit.”

Kenma sniffs. He doesn’t say anything after that, and you quaintly let your shoulder brush against his ever other jostle of the train.

(It’s been awhile since you’ve been around anyone. It feels nice.)

---- (change the channel) -----

Kenma balks for a bit at the front door of your apartment, but you quickly usher him inside, kicking your shoes off into the entryway and flying inside. He toes off his own shoes, eyes scanning briefly around the entryway, around your home—it’s neat, he realizes, even if he wasn’t sure what to expect. You keep it clean enough, but there’s bits and pieces where your life slips through, making it feel lived in. You keep plants in the corner, healthy and well but you’ve got a few dishes still sitting in the sink.

He guesses he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to begin with.

Kenma pauses for a second, rubbing his nose. He looks uncomfortable, eyes flickering around your apartment and back to you, but you’re already steps ahead of him, too excited to pass a chance like this up.

“It’s in my streaming room,” you say, “come on.”

Kenma follows warily behind you.

You almost kick the door to your room open in your haste, unable to stop the ecstatic beating of your heart as you scramble toward the back. Kenma pauses a minute, sniffing the air again. He glances behind him, back toward where your bedroom is left ajar and then to your streaming room. He looks a bit thoughtful for a moment, but quietly keeps it to himself, slipping inside and lightly closing the door politely after him.

(He’s not one to snoop, but he’s here, it’s not like he can’t look.)

Kenma tries very, very carefully not to consider the fact that he had seen you on that screen only a few nights before, and tries even harder not to remember what you’d been doing and how you’d look. He hyper focuses instead on the stand-out merch that becomes very, very clear to him.

He’s almost amazed your users haven’t said anything more about this—maybe it’s because of your camera angle.

Poster after poster of Water Emblem decorates the entire side of your wall. Kenma finds himself instantly drifting up to it, spotting your shelf in record time. He scans the collection of game titles, eyes growing brighter and brighter as he ghosts a finger over the well-kept discs and the old games…

“You play a lot,” Kenma says, quiet, glancing your way.

“I used to be a bit of a shut-in because I had to study,” you say, squatting down beside your other shelf and moving a few books aside. He finds himself watching the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and smile. “They were great breaks for me and helped keep me company. I’m not as social as people think, so it’s nice.”

Kenma considers your words. He looks at you, trying to reconcile the image he’d had of you from your stream with what he’d been witnessing all day today—how different it all was.

(If he’s honest, he’d been expecting to deal with someone different.)

“Do you do PC games too?” he asks. What are you doing?

“I’m not as familiar with them compared to console games,” you admit. “After exams I might try though. Got any to recommend?”

Kenma does. Plenty. He could go on but he doesn’t even know where to start, turning from your games to try to look at you again and think about how strange this entire meeting is, how different from what he’d been expecting. It reminds him of his meeting with Hinata, sudden and vibrant and impossible to categorize, left—

Pleasantly surprised.

“What happened to your chair?”

“What, the pink one?” you glance over your shoulder, noticing where Kenma’s looking toward your streaming station. “I shove it into the closet when I’m not using it. Sometimes the color hurts my eyes.”

Kenma looks at you like you’re crazy.

“...You keep two chairs?”

“Well, the chair’s mostly for looks anyway,” you say. “Some people like that kind of simple stuff. It’s a nice contrast, you know? Sweet and spicy, I guess? My boss said something like that. My ratings are good so I don’t complain.”

Kenma considers your words. He looks at your station, almost engulfed with stacks and stacks of what he can easily recognize as textbooks. Biology, medical tech, chemistry—all of it nearly crushing the fuzzy bunny mask you’d been wearing on the stream.

Kenma takes it all into his head and he looks again at your small back.

“...Do you even like your job?”

“It’s not my job,” you say. “My job is studying and working at the athletics complex to try to help figure out ways to help people stay in shape, take care of themselves and be better. This is just… part-time.”

You pause, staring at your shelves. It feels weird to be saying this outloud, but it’s nice too. It’s refreshing. You think you can take advantage of it anyway, what if you never even meet this guy again? You hardly know him, he probably doesn’t care.

“And I guess,” you say, a bit quieter. “Sometimes it’s kind of rewarding… sometimes people are nice, you know?”

Kenma says nothing, watching your back. You rub your neck and then finally beam, pulling free the reason for all of this.

You cradle the box in your hands. It’s weighty. You run your fingers over it and stand up, turning proudly to Kenma, beaming from ear to ear and—

You almost jump back in surprise, near squeaking. Your ears almost flash red in embarrassment at how close Kenma is all of a sudden, sneaking up right behind you with shiny, adoring eyes as he stares at the box in your hands, looking at it in awe and disbelief.

“Can I see it?” he asks reverently.

Your heart swells in happiness and you eagerly nod, handing it over to him.

Kenma receives the gift with care. He runs his fingers over it, carefully, as though afraid to even leave a single print behind before he pops the metal engraved latch and opens it up.

You and Kenma sigh together in unison, swooning at the sight.

“It’s amazing,” Kenma says.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe I’m seeing it in person.”

“I know!”

“You took great care of it.”

“I—” you flush at the praise, wilting a bit. “I-uh, thanks…”

“Can I see you play it?” Kenma says suddenly, looking almost desperate. You freeze. He looks up at you, expression completely different from his near lifeless one. His face is vibrant and full of excitement, thrumming just under the surface of his nonchalance. “The loading screen even? I—I have to see what it looks like logged in and—”

“I...actually can’t,” you say quietly, embarrassed. Kenma looks confused.

“I… I sold the console for it,” you say, feeling more and more guilty to finally have to admit one of your biggest regrets. Kenma pauses, expression quieting as he looks at you. You stare at the floor, trying not to look at the computer and web camera sitting in the corner. “I needed to buy some stuff… so I had to sell it in. I still kept a lot of the games, thinking I’d buy another one when I got the chance…”

You ruffle the back of your head, trying to quell the stifling scent of embarrassment that tries to escape you. You rub your wrists. Kenma’s eyes are briefly drawn to the action before he looks at you, still holding your game. You bow your head a little. “Um, if you want though, you can take it to your place and see—it absolutely will still work. I can just, take something to make sure you don’t run off or I can just—”

“Do you want to come over and use mine?”

You pause, looking at Kenma, dumbfounded.

Kenma stares right back at you. You can’t read a single inch of his face.

“We can use my place,” Kenma says, calm, unbothered. Your eyes grow round. “I really… really want to see the game in action… it’ll probably be more fun to see you play it anyway first.”

“Is that,” you start, uncharacteristically shy. “...okay?”

Kenma wordlessly nods.

(Your heart does something a little funny. You just write it off as an exaggeration. You’re such a sad sack.)

“Um!” Kenma looks up. You flush, hating how embarrassed you feel, hating how much of your bravado is missing, but you almost stutter out, “I-It’s (L/n) by the way… (L/n) (Y/n)...”

“... okay,” Kenma says. “It’s nice to meet you, (L/n).”

--- (change the chanel) ---

“You know, Kenma,” Kuroo said once, leaning back on the train ride home as Kenma tapped away at the buttons on his console. “For all you say and stuff, you’re pretty good at putting all the pieces together, aren’t you?”

--- (change the chanel) ---

One month.

Non-stop, several days a week, for hours on end—that’s how long the two of you play the game together.

You nearly miss streams, spend hours at Kenma’s house, laughing when you come to find him half-asleep in his sheets, barely rolling out to come greet you and instead just buzzing you in. You think it’s insane—how quickly this… this thing builds. You think you ought to be dreaming, but you don’t really want it to end.

(You’ve gone too long without anyone to laugh like this with.)

You pull late-nighters that are terrible for your complexion, eat take-out like you’re cramming for exams all over again, laughing while Kenma quietly watches and scrolling through Water Emblem merchandise and fan bases and—

You spend time with him. With Kenma. You spend hours and days and what feels like endless forever and fun. It’s so sickeningly amazing you almost don’t believe it’s real. Sometimes you two argue, getting into heated spats over calls on how to move your characters, critiquing each other’s moves and then laughing when the other fails, sometimes it’s outright cheers from you while Kenma nods in satisfaction when you clear another mission and proceed forward and—

You haven’t even been alive that long, but compared to everything else, it almost feels like the best moment of your life.

“I did an entire episode on why moving this character is better than the rest,” Kenma mutters one day beside you. “I’m telling you, we need to deploy them. They’re wasted as an adjutant.”

You pause beside Kenma, blinking at his massive screen. You stare at your hands, and then you look at Kenma, blinking again in realization.

And in all this sudden time you’ve spent with him, you realize you’ve never seen one of his streams.

--- (change the chanel) ---

“Uh, hey everyone, thanks for stopping by again.”

You snort. Kenma doesn’t look the slightest bit at ease, his small face-view camera appearing in the corner of your screen as the old stream starts. It’s only of his earliest ones, the one where he replayed Water Emblem for his channel.

“I like this game a lot… it’s the one I always wanted to do a stream for… so I hope you enjoy it too.”

Is that it, dude? You laugh, shaking your head and kicking your legs out as Kenma gets the loading screen started and adjusts his chair. His camera shakes a bit and everything about the video attests to its age and its novelty. It makes you smile. He must’ve come a long way from these videos to the freaking multi-millionaire he was now.

(He worked hard.)

At first the show starts off rather quiet, maybe a bit awkward. Kenma hardly talks, quietly playing through the beginning sequences of the game and only commenting once or twice on the music or graphics. It’s kind of nice, peaceful, just watching someone go through the familiar motions until the real first part of the game starts and then—

“I never get tired of this part.”

You pause at his voice, glancing to the corner of the screen. Kenma’s eyes glow. He smiles, low, small and quiet, and he leans so far forward, almost out of his seat as he starts to play, quietly talking, describing the things he’s doing, the parts of the game he’s in love with and—

You roll over onto your side, watching the stream. Everytime Kenma mutters something under his breath you laugh, when he flubs you grimace, when he succeeds—you cheer, kicking your heels into the air. It’s really like playing the game all over again—even if the comments say he hardly shows any emotion, you can see it.

Kenma Kozume loves this game.

He loves what he does.

The thought makes you pause, staring quietly at the screen.

The dark corner of your room looks a little bigger. The quietness is a little louder. You lay there in your bed, watching Kenma thank everyone for watching with a sigh, giving the game a second glance, like he’s thinking of playing more even though he said he’d stop and—

Your alarm nearly startles you out of bed. You quickly glance over, shooting up in realization.

“My stream,” you murmur, dropping your phone and hurrying to your video room. “Gotta do… my stream…”

Your eyes glance back to your phone. You stare at the dark screen.

“Do you even like what you do?”

You shake your head, closing the door behind you.

--- (change the chanel) ---

“Thanks again everyone for coming! Your favorite omega is going to be lonely without you~”

The screen clicks, turning off.

You sit there in your plush, bright pink chair. Your open jacket hangs on either side of you, revealing your bikini for the beach theme you were going with today. The video room is near silent, save for the soft, quiet hum of your computer running while your monitor blinks, turning to a save screen.

Your game sits in your lap, carefully cradled by your hands. Off to the side is a thorough stack of medical textbooks you still owe money on. You were planning on studying for your test tomorrow after the stream tonight.

You run your fingers over the amazing edges of the collector’s box. You thumb every part of it, retracing the familiar memories, even the small little dent in the corner when you dropped it the first night you got it and almost cried.

You hold it there in your hands. It feels so, so warm, even though you think that shouldn’t really be possible.

There, in the darkness of your video room you sit. Quiet in the near-silence, head lowered, gently running your fingers over it, again and again.

Kenma’s lulling voice is the only thing you hear, playing over his stream, and you shut your eyes, bringing your knees and the box up to your chest. It jabs your ribs, sits uncomfortable, but you don’t really care.

“Do you even like what you do?”

(What I’m doing now, at least… yeah, I do. I really do.)

--- (change the chanel) ---

(L/n) is typing...

Hey, can we talk?

It’s nothing important, let’s just meet up for dinner if you’re free!

Is that fine?

Kenma is typing...

Yes.

Location sent.

Let’s go here. I’ll make reservations.

Okay! :)

(Y/n) is typing…

(Y/n) stopped typing.

--- (change the chanel) ---

The place Kenma picks is some ridiculously nice looking Japanese Restaurant. It’s dimly lit and elegant and fancier than anything you’re used to, and you’re not really sure why he picks it until he orders for both of you and then the wagyu comes out and you know.

Seeing the steak, knowing you’ll get a good meal—it kind of makes this whole thing a lot easier.

Kenma sits comfortably on the floor right across from you. It’s a small, private room he’s rented out for the both of you. He’s dressed in the usual—baggy sweatshirts and athletic but comfortable joggers, and his hair is pulled back a little more neatly tonight as he pours tea for you and then for himself.

“This smells so good,” you say, mouth watering as you pick up the smooth, fancy wooden chopsticks. “Mind if I start?”

“Go ahead,” Kenma says. He leans back, picking up his spoon to dig into his own soup first. “What did you want to talk about?”

“The game,” you say around a mouthful of wagyu. It melts like butter on your tongue. “I’m going to give it to you.”

Kenma freezes, looking up at you in shock. His spoon clutters back into his bowl.

“What?” Kenma says.

“I’ve thought about it,” you say. “You were right. I don’t even have the console to play it anymore. It kinda just sits, collecting dust. It’s not fair when that game is literally everything.”

Your hands still a bit. You stare at the sizzling hot plate.

“I think you have a lot of fun with your streams,” you say, softer. “I think… I think Water Emblem would be well off in your hands. I think… I think it’s what it deserves, you know?”

Kenma is silent, frozen like a statue in front of you. You continue, lightly tracing a thumb over your other wrist, as though in comfort. Moments like this, you do wish for the chance to scent or be scented by someone again—just something familiar, something warm and nice. Your family is miles away and you just...

“I’ve had too much fun playing it again thanks to you,” you say, warm, full of happiness. Yeah, this is what feels right. “And you never once asked for the money from that night back, even though it should’ve just gone into paying for the game… that’s why I want to just give it to you. You’ve already done too much for me, and it’s more than paid for the game.”

“Hold on,” Kenma says. “I—hold on, one second.” He rushes for his phone, fumbling. You shake your head. “No, hold on—”

“I’ve still got my streams to do,” you say with an awkward laugh. “I can’t spend all my time playing video games again. Once exams come up and then—”

“No,” Kenma tries, looking a bit frustrated. He curses at his phone, “Give me a second to explain before you—”

“I’m doing this,” you say resolutely, standing up from your seat. Kenma balks. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me. Besides, I guess I got to meet you. That’s not so bad. Now stop making this weird and let me just do something cool for once in my life—”

“I want you to do a streaming series with me!”

You stop, staring at Kenma. He holds out his phone, showing the screen to you—but your eyes are on him, round and disbelieving and then—

Your entire face flushes bright red, cherry like a tomato.

“Y-Y-You w-w-w-want to d-d-do a s-stream with me—”

“Not one of yours!” Kenma blurts. You blink. He curses, ruffling his hair roughly before he gestures again with more vigor to his phone, “This—just look at this.”

You glance to Kenma’s phone.

“...you’re doing a new stream series,” you say, eyes widening in awe. “It’s going to be on the secret, never played route for Water Emblem—see! That’s perfect! If you’re going to do that, you need my half of the game and—”

“I want to do it with you.”

You freeze, mouth falling open.

“I’ve been thinking about it since you came over to play,” Kenma says, quietly setting his phone down on the table—he takes on the tone that means business, the calm, lulling one he your hear him use on the phone sometimes to make sure deals are delivered and he gets what he wants. “It’d be a great idea, and it’d be… fun. I’ve been letting you play because I wanted to see if the style would be compatible and I think it’ll be more than fine.”

Kenma taps his phone again.

“Of course, you’d be compensated,” he turns it to you, “we’d split the profits 50/50 from each streaming episode. Considering my normal projected view count and ad revenue, you can expect at least this much.”

You look at the numbers.

Your mouth stays open, knees sinking to the floor.

“If you’re willing,” Kenma says quietly, “to take a break from your streams to do this series with me… I think it would be mutually beneficial.”

Can things really, really work out, just like that?

“Besides,” Kenma says, even quieter. You close your mouth, looking at him in disbelief, in awe, in reverence, and he meets your gaze with his golden one.

“The secret route is meant for dual players,” Kenma says. “Water Emblem is known for being a single player, but what makes it special is it needs two for this route… it… it would be a disservice to the story to do it any other way.”

You can’t help it.

Your scent and pheromones you struggle and try so, so hard to always keep under lock and key explode forth, nearly flooding the entire room. Kenma stiffens, going ramrod straight and grabbing onto the top of his pants as your happiness engulfs the two of you. You’re sure it probably alarms everyone in the hall or anywhere near. Your happiness crashes and lulls and your entire face crumples in disbelief—

“Is it really…” you start, like a whisper, “really okay?”

Kenma shifts in his seat. He pulls at the hood of his sweater, opening his mouth before he quickly closes it. He mutely nods, resolute, and you stand up, lunging across the table to grab his hands. Kenma’s face flushes a bright red, his body stiffening in alarm.

“Kenma!” you say. “Kenma! Kenma, you’re a godsend! A guardian angel! My guardian angel! You don’t understand what this means for me—you don’t know what you’re doing for me—”

“(L/n),” Kenma says, he sounds strained. You pause, looking at him with round eyes. “I’m… excited… but I need you…”

Kenma lets out a slow, ragged breath. “Please… tone it down… just a little…”

You tilt your head in confusion. Your eyes drop down, noticing the sweat beading at the corner of Kenma’s temple, at the hard, rigid look in his hazy, warmly golden eyes and…

A soft scent teases your nose. You pause, blinking in disbelief. No way. You’re crazy, right?

“Um, Kenma,” you say, a little nervous. There’s no way, right? “You’re… you’re a… beta, right?”

Even betas could be sensitive to pheromones. You were being too careless right now, you must’ve just been too much and—

Kenma rigidly shakes his head.

You blink, feeling very, very, very small.

“Alpha,” Kenma exhales, holding his hand to his nose, scrunching in on himself while he peers up blearily at you, eyes swimming with something you’ve never seen once in his gaze before. He sticks his wrist out to you.

“Uh,” you say, hating how nervous you sound. “C-Can… I?”

Kenma wordlessly holds his hand out to you, keeping it in the air. You tentatively step closer for a moment, sniffing lightly. His smell.

Kenma’s scent is so quiet, it’s no wonder you… you never noticed. It’s become so familiar, always felt so calming and subtle and soothing, but if you look for it the way an omega would, pheromones in tune and acute—you do catch it, just the faint hint of something sharp, the familiar, light tang of alpha and—

You quickly pull back. You open your mouth, close it, open it again, and then close it.

“I’m so sorry—”

“You’re fine,” Kenma says, quick and quiet. You mutely nod, mortified. Kenma motions for you to relax as he stands, grabbing his wallet. “I’m going to take care of the bill. Get… fresh air. I’ll be back—”

“You should let me—”

“You can get the next one,” Kenma says. Something in his words makes you strangely complied to listen, ridiculously docile, and you blink in surprise when you sink back to your knees and Kenma’s eyes seem a little warm, a little—

(Pleased?)

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” you say jovially. Kenma nods, leaving you. You can’t believe it. This is it—this is—

The start of something great.

You hold your head in your hands, unable to contain your happiness.

Oh my god.

You stop, blinking again in realization.

BUT I’VE BEEN SUCH AN IDIOT, HE’S BEEN A—THIS WHOLE TIME—HOW RUDE MUST I HAVE—

You fall back into the cushion, kicking your feet up in disbelief.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid—I better apologize over and over—”

--- (change the chanel) ---

Kenma quietly steps out of the private room, sliding the door shut behind him.

He stands there, silent, basking in the faint afterglow, of the leaking, intoxicating feel of your happiness wrapping thickly around him, clinging to his skin.

Kenma lifts his hand up to his nose. He sniffs, once.

Your scent floods him.

Kenma’s tongue lightly drags up the inside of his wrist. He closes his eyes, briefly catching it—the soft, sweet taste of you against his lips, on his tongue. Kenma waits there, inhaling softly before his eyes slide open, thin, golden slits.

This would be the start of a fairly interesting partnership.

Omegachion has signed off!

Thanks for watching!

#typetober #alktypetober #kofi request #ko-fi requests #kenma kozume #omega!reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu reader insert #kenma kozume x reader

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2

Part One | Part Two

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,524

Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous.

There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.

You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.

“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.

That gave you pause.

Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.

Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late?

And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them.

Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.

Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.

You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”

Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.

Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”

You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.

It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.

“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.

They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.

Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.

Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.

The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat.

For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.

You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.

Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.

There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.

You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.

You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.

The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”

He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.

“Nice jab,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.

“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”

“Only when people sneak up on me.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”

His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.

The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”

He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.

You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.

Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”

“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.

He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.

Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.

Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.

He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.

Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.

“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”

You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.

“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.

The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.

Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.

“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”

He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”

You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”

The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.

“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”

For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.

“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”

“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”

That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”

It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.

Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.

Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.

“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.

“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.

He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”

Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.

People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.

The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.

You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.

The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.

The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.

“Aww, how’d you guess?”

“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.

Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.

Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.

Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.

Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.

Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”

“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.

Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”

Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”

“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.

“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.

“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”

Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.

You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.

“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.

At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!

Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?

Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.

You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.

Even for a face like Marko’s.

_______________

Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here.

Thanks for reading :)

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys marko #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Junkyard

PG-13 oneshot: semi-angst into fluff. Thanks so much for reading!! I would love any advice or critiques, and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in anything :)

Title: Junkyard

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2170

Summary: Bobby’s a little too overprotective of you with Dean. Sam is very much a younger brother about it.

gif not mine! please let me know if you know whose it is so I can give them credit!

Dean’s hand slipped under your t-shirt, his fingers ice cold from the Sioux Falls October night. You gripped his collar with one hand, the other running through his gelled hair. The tip of his nose was cool against your cheek as his lips crashed into yours, and you nipped at him with your tongue. He answered in kind, pulling you into him. Your jeans slid on the trunk of the old junk car under the pressure until you were ground up against Dean’s belt where he stood. He slipped his other hand into your hair, gripping the base of your neck and exposing your throat before kissing and sucking hungrily. You groaned involuntarily and could feel Dean smile into your soft skin. Sliding down his chest, you gripped his belt buckle and flicked it open with one hand, your turn to grin when Dean gasped softly.

He leaned into you, the hand on your head lowering you urgently but gently onto the trunk. The exposed skin on your back screamed at the freezing cold metal but you didn’t care, trying to yank him over you like a blanket while he tore at his jacket.

“Boy if you don’t get that poor girl inside I’ll tan your ass and use it as a coin purse! It’s damn near freezing out! You must think I’m pretty goddamn stupid and I’ll tell you: I was born at night but it wasn’t last night!” Bobby yelled from the house, his voice carrying over the salvage yard.

“Fuck,” Dean pulled away to whisper through gritted teeth. He pressed his forehead into you, waiting for a beat while you both caught your breath before leaning back to offer a hand. You took it and hopped down from the perch of the trunk. Feeling in the dark for any major bumps, you adjusted your ponytail and yanked your shirt down to meet the waist of your jeans. Dean re-buckled his belt and held out his arm so you could go first back to Bobby’s house.

Coming through the door, the first thing you saw was Sam sitting at the kitchen table. He smiled up at you slyly without raising his head, and you were thankful that the cold air had already flushed your cheeks. Bobby was a few steps behind him, thankfully looking past you at Dean. If looks could kill, Dean would be burning alive.

“How was your, uh, walk?” Sam asked with the kind of smug grin only he could deliver.

“Fine,” you said briskly, adding a tight lipped nod. Sam looked past you to Dean, whose smile was popped open at the edge by his tongue in his cheek. You shot him a warning look and he closed his mouth.

“Great,” Dean added.

Bobby slammed down the casserole dish he was holding with enough force that you listened for the Pyrex to crack. “Here you go then,” he said, even more gruffly than normal.

Dinner was so awkward and silent that it made you sick to your stomach. You tried your best to look only down at your plate, the glances you stole showing Sam’s barely contained glee at Dean having been caught out and Bobby’s barely contained disdain at it. When you finally finished your plate, you grabbed all the empty dishes within reach and headed to the kitchen sink with them. “Thanks for dinner, Bobby! I’m beat, I’ll see you all tomorrow!” you threw over your shoulder as you went, feeling for all the world like a frog trying to climb out of a near-boiling pot.

“Not so fast, kid,” Bobby barked. You set the dishes down quietly in the sink and marched back to your seat at the table. “We need to have a talk.”

Sam sat still, but you could tell from the expression on his face that he would’ve been exploding out of his chair with schadenfreude if he could.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, then. Goodnight! Dinner was great, Bobby,” Dean said, playing dumb in an effort to escape himself. Bobby slapped one open palm on the table hard and the older Winchester returned to his seat. Dean had been keeping it together remarkably well, but the color drained from his face as he settled.

Bobby sat silently for a few agonizing moments before speaking. “Now. I know you boys haven’t had a lot of experience living with a young woman before—”

“Oh. My. God.” Sam said under his breath excitedly. Bobby glared at him.

“But I will be damned if you plan on treating this house like some sleazy frat basement!” he yelled, building steam. You were absolutely mortified, unable to even look at Dean or Sam. “Now get your dumb asses up and go to bed. Don’t make me give this speech again.” His voice was low and grim as you got up and pushed your chair in. Sam and Dean got up too, but you heard Bobby growl a dark “sit” to Dean as you and Sam walked away. You felt a tinge of guilt at leaving him alone, but it was nothing compared to the dread that fell over you at the thought of sitting at the table a second longer.

Sam followed you up the stairs. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You think he’s going to kill him?” You knew he was joking, but were scared at what Bobby was going to say to Dean anyway. It was ridiculous, for three adults to be wrapped up so much in the opinion of a man who wasn’t the real father of any of you, and yet you felt exactly like a reprimanded child.

You changed quickly into a big old t-shirt and worn cotton sweatpants, padding down the hallway in a messy bun to wash your face and brush your teeth when Bobby started yelling. Sam shot his head out of the bathroom curiously and came to the stair landing with you to listen.

“This is not a random girl in some town you’re passing through, Dean!”

Dean responded too quietly for you and Sam to hear.

“That’s how you treat her with respect? Slip her out the back door to fool around in a damn junkyard?!” You heard a crash that you thought sounded like one of the chairs being tossed to the ground. When Bobby spoke again he was quieter; Sam and you leaned in to hear him.

“If you make that girl shed one tear, boy, so help me God you’ll be wishing you were back in Hell.”

Sam sucked air through his teeth, wincing. You realized your mouth was hanging open, stunned both that Bobby could cut that deep and that he seemed not to trust you to protect yourself at all. You weren’t stupid; of course you knew Dean’s reputation. On some level, you were worried he might live up to it. But for now he was gorgeous and it was a little lonely staying with Bobby up in Sioux Falls. You were having fun, and the fallout was for you to beat yourself up about in the future, not now.

When you heard movement in the kitchen, you darted into the bathroom and Sam tried to head down the stairs casually to the day bed in the library. You brushed your teeth and washed your face brusquely, making it back to the spare bedroom without seeing Bobby head to the other bedroom upstairs. Pulling the old comforter over you on the old brass bed, you fell asleep fitfully.

You woke with a start feeling like you were being watched. Based on the dim glow creeping through the slats between your blinds, it was at least a few hours after you went to sleep. When you scanned the room, Dean’s silhouette filled the doorframe.

“What’re you doing?” you whispered urgently.

“I wanted to see if you were up,” he answered, stepping into the room so that the moonlight illuminated his face. The shape of his full lips made you ache, the shadow of his jaw onto his neck begging to be touched. You realized as always that his socked feet were his only concession to the hour; his “pajamas” were his still-belted jeans with a t-shirt.

“I’m up now, what’s going on?” Dean kept took a few more steps into the room toward you, biting his lip slowly. You got up to your elbows, the old bed’s springs creaking underneath you. “What’re you doing?” you repeated. “Bobby’s going to kill us,”

“I think you mean Bobby’s going to kill me,” he smiled, half of his face obscured by shadow. He was standing at the foot of your bed now, fiddling with the hem of a blanket. “Seems pretty interested in protecting you from the big bad womanizer.”

“Yeah, I heard some of that,” you offered cautiously.

“Figured you and Sam would be listening. Hear everything?”

“Not everything, but enough. So come on, don’t poke the bear. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You laid back down, tucking the comforter up under your chin. Dean didn’t move.

“You don’t want me here?”

You smiled in the dark. “Dean, Bobby’s room is like 15 feet away.”

“Guess we’ll have to be quiet then.”

Dean rounded the corner of the bed and leaned down, grazing your lips with his. He knew what he was doing, and you could only hold out for a second before greedily snatching the back of his head and sliding your mouth onto his. The bed groaned in response to the extra weight and you pulled away sharply, alarmed at the noise.

Dean grabbed the extra blankets you kept at the foot of your bed for extra cold nights in Bobby’s drafty Midwestern house and spread them on the floor in a sort of picnic-nest before spinning around and picking you up off the bed, comforter and all. You put a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling as he lowered you both down onto the blankets. “Better?” he asked as you nodded into his chest. Warmth came off of him through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, seeping into you like melting honey. Easing down until your chests pressed together, he kissed you deeply and softly without any of the urgency he had in the junkyard. You relished in the roughness of his hands and stubble on you as he took his time exploring your lips and neck. Dean pulled away to take a breath, leaning back on his knees.

“Wait,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” you spit out, scared he might’ve heard something in the hallway.

Dean looked down at you and the shadows caught all the angles in his face. He looked into your eyes and then out the window, biting his lip.

“I’m not just messing around,” he finally said. There must’ve been enough moonlight for him to see your face because Dean pursed his lips in frustration. “I mean what Bobby said is not true. Or maybe it was before, but not now, not with you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“Dean, I know what this is, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about ‘sparing my feelings’ or whatever,” you replied, touching his chest. He grabbed your wrist.

“Sparing your feelings? No, that’s what I mean. I want it to be more than…this,” he said, gesturing to the blankets surrounding you on the floor. “I just, I want to be, like, with you,” he mumbled.

“Are you serious?” you replied, sitting up.

“I, uh, I mean yeah,” he said, leaning back onto his heels. “If you want to.” Seeing Dean shy and nervous like a teenager this way was unusual, and it caught you off guard.

“Uh, wow,” you breathed, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t know you like, dated, or whatever.”

He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I guess I don’t really, huh?”

“So this is you asking me out?”

“Yeah. But only if you’re going to say yes.” The half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth looked more like the Dean you knew.

“And if I did, would that make this our first date?” you asked, pulling at a loose thread from your sweatpants’ hem.

“I was thinking dinner or something, but I mean, sure, why not?”

“Hmmm, bummer,” you thought aloud with a smile. “Thought you’re not supposed to have sex until the third date.”

Without Dean’s hand behind your head it would’ve cracked against the floorboards with the force of him suddenly slamming into you, but instead you were enveloped in his kiss and the scent of leather and pine that always floated around him. You giggled into his lips when you felt Dean grin against you, and he pulled away a few centimeters. Your breath mixed as he asked, “That’s a yes, right?” It was all you could do to nod as you melted into each other, turning into a tangle of muffled little laughs, discarded clothes, and heavy, warm breaths.

ETA: Did you know there’s a Junkyard, Part 2? Might be worth checking out 😉

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass, @akshi8278, @dream-believe-and-love

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fic #spn #spn one shot #spn oneshot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean fluff #dean one shot #dean winchester oneshot #reader insert #dean x you #dean winchester x you

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haikyuuishete · 4 years

Text

Black Jackals has a crush on you|| Headcanon special

Author note: I would like to say thank you to everyone because I have my first 100 followers and I’m very happy that people like my writing (つ﹏⊂) so I introduce you the time skip haikyuu

MAYJOR spoiler to the people who hasn’t read the manga but if those who want to read the manga for free please let me know and I’ll send the link where to read it! Because haikyuu has been postponed because of the virus and most people are egar to watch it so maybe reading the manga might help!

Sooooo thank you to everyone!

You were their manager that worked for them, you brought them food, updated their schedules and even made sure they were in good health and even made sure they were always healthy and have a strong mental state

At first everyone liked you as a friend, Sakusa was distant but treated you like you were apart of the team

It took a while for them to have feelings for you

Shugo came into practice really late because he overslept and apologized to everyone, he didn’t eat at all and didn’t even eat breakfast

You immediately noticed because you heard his stomach grumbling

You had spare time on your hands, you rushed to the nearest store to get him some food

After everyone left to the lockers you stopped him, “you should eat Shugo or you’ll get sick” you were quite small in front of him, ruffling your hair “thank you y/n come I’ll share” “oh you don’t have to-“ “it’s fine come” pulling you to the corner of the gym you two joked around while eating, that sparked something between you well at least to him

Adriah had a hard time pronouncing some words which was understandable, you were there to help because the rest of the team kept teasing him non stop

“Leave poor Adriah alone” you warned the rest then began to tease “what are you gonna do shorty pants?” Atsumu teases, “oh I’ll show you!” You grab a metal spoon “come here Atsumu” you started to chase him with a spoon while he started to laugh like a maniac

After practice Adriah walks up to you, “can you help me practice a bit more and help me with pronouncing?” He asked you, of course you helped him out.

He came by to your apartment and helped him a bit which took a long time but you never minded and even made him dinner

He enjoyed your company quite a lot, he felt kinda connected to you, every night he would come over to have dinner with you

Shion was very calm and collected one, nothing really bothered him unless it was Bokuto’s and Atsumu’s pranks on him, but this is a different case, a interviewer bothered him with his question “why couldn’t you get the ball it was in front of you? That’s not very professional” bothered him the whole day and the team couldn’t cheer him up, he didn’t want to talk to anyone

You got worried, you sat next to him “you know Shion that interviewer is well known to embarrass and even ridicule athletes” you pointed out, “to me the ball was too fast to catch and I know you were analyzing it” passing him a bottle of water, “Don’t let that guy get into your head okay Shion to me you’re an amazing libero” He softens a bit, “Thank you” he rested his head on your shoulder smiling to himself

Bokuto was a piece of work and can get too excited at times but he’s so kind, whenever Atsumu tossed to him it always turned to him over working himself trying to hit the ball full force reddening his hand to deep red and he even worked out only lead his hand to hurt whenever he touched something

You always brought ice packs, “you should be careful!” You scolded him softly holding his hand on your lap as you rest the ice pack on his palm, “I’ll be careful I promise” he whispers pouting a bit not sure if you’re mad at him, at times he can get you super worried, one time Sakusa spiked the ball at his face causing his nose to bleed

“Stay still Kou!” You push his head up trying to stop the bleeding but Bokuto wanted to go back to practice, “you can’t play like this, stop moving!” You playfully hit his shoulder “owww y/n why would you hit meeee!” He’d tease causing you to laugh out loud, he didn’t know why but hearing you laugh always made his day better “your smile is pretty” “thanks Kou” you smile

Atsumu is a pain in the ass, he literally teases and even bicker with you over the littlest things, “SO YOURE TELLING ME THAT MY BROTHER IS WAY HOTTER THAN I AM?!” “Tsumu you two are TWINS you guys look the same!” “ANJEDBBE”

He would always flirt with you non stop which you always brushed it off knowing he’s teasing you

In reality he likes the little reactions he gets from you it’s adorable, he thinks about you all the time, he always had a crush on you

Sakusa got on his nerves once and Atsumu flipped him off and walked off like a pro, which shocked everyone because usually he would say something back

You of course follow him, “Atsumu!” You gently called him over to you, “Sakusa is a meanie” Atsumu laughs at your cuteness, “I know” he pulls you in a hug

He didn’t know how but his anger was all gone just with a single hug form you

“Let’s go eat” “yes!”

Sakusa wasn’t any trouble to handle, whenever you hand him a towel he always smells it , you use his detergent because he’s very strict about it

Every place he goes to, you make sure it’s spotless and sometimes chip in to help clean knowing him he would complain

You always have extra masks for him, extra cleaning wipes

He notices your efforts which he appreciates a lot, sometimes he brings some food for you

“Omi you don’t have to do that” you smiled taking the bag out of his hand, “no you deserve it, you really make an effort for me so thank you”

It brought you two together, he really cares for you and always worry about you at all time, you just make him happy in way he can’t explain

So stand next to him and he will be a content omi

The youngest out of the team Hinata Shoyo, he’s a ball of sunshine and you love being next to him

But unfortunately he doesn’t do good with alcohol at all

The team was celebrating for winning a match everyone was drinking unfortunately Sakusa went home early cause he thinks it’s gross (but you weren’t gross to him)

Hinata was so drunk very drunk and you helped him walk home, Shugo wanted to help because it wasn’t safe for a drunk man to walk with beautiful woman (Shugo hated that you took him home)

Coach stopped him saying he has to take Bokuto and Atsumu home which made him sigh

Bokuto and Atsumu are very dangerous than Hinata

You got to Hinata’s apartment, he was all hazy “y/n I need to change I feel dirty!” “Hinata Wait don’t pass out!” You help him change by closing your eyes

You literally babied him the whole time, he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t look drunk because he’s talking causally to you

He told you about his high school days which made you stay a little longer because it was interesting

Hinata head was on your lap as he happily told you while you just brush your fingers through his soft locks

After that you had to go home and left him under blanket

The next morning you weren’t next him which made him sad but he was happy that you stayed next to him until he fell asleep

Then jealousy was oozing from each teammate, someone is flirting you

Atsumu and Bokuto shooed them off by one word “bye” with the scariest death glare but turned to you with puppy eyes “y/n let’s go eat!” They would push you to the nearest restaurant

Shugo is literally all over you, he teases you about your height but still a total sweetheart, he makes sure to help you carry heavy stuff, always grumbles at Adriah for helping you first

Since they are the oldest they always have this rivalry but not bad one a playfully one

“Y/n I can help you with that!” They said at the same time “oh too late I got it” Shion grabs the box out your hands walking out with you leaving a glaring older ones behind

Sakusa hated when Bokuto picked you up whenever he was happy it was even worse when Atsumu is just touching your hair

He won’t talk to you the whole day but it won’t last long

Adriah and you always have dinner together and even study (he’s getting better) he loves staring at you as you talked to him, he just adores it

Everyone hates when you baby Hinata, “Hina are you hurt??” “Yes” he pouts like everyone now knows Hinata is very dangerous with his cuteness and bubbly nature

“HINATA BOKE!” Atsumu explodes when he sees him hug you

Shinon stayed the night with you (no not that!) he slept over at your place

You two watched movies together and laid his head on your lap (he did that intentionally) you didn’t mind at all

You two laughed and enjoyed each other’s company as you played with his hair

Atsumu kidnapped you to have quality time with you which didn’t even work because his twin brother tagged along “I will choke you” glaring at his brother “what did you say?” “Nothing y/n!”

Shugo brought you to meet his parents “uhh finally Shugo brought a girl home! She’s quite beautiful!” His mom was all over you

You felt bad so you didn’t say anything to her, Shugo appreciated it but secretly wants you to be his girlfriend oop

Bokuto always makes you set for him while he practices solo which you didn’t really mind and always help and always made sure to bring ice packs for his hand

“Bokuto that’s enough let’s go home”

He liked the way you said that, “okay let’s go!” He drops the ball and grabs your hand dragging you out which made you burst out in laughter

To him your hand fits perfectly in his hand

Sakusa asked you if you wanted to go out to a museum with him which you gladly accepted god it was the best day ever

Museums never had crowds it was perfect, the way you were excited made him excited too, he was hesitant of holding your hand but manned up and did

At first you were surprised but he didn’t even look bothered even though he was panicking in the inside

You two had a pleasant day with each other, a day he will never forget

Atsumu and Sakusa would still bicker but once you come into the room they fight over who will talk to you first “excuse me boys!” Hinata bounces over to you “hey y/n want to go to Miyagi with me to visit?” He asks, you didn’t have the heart to tell him no so you accepted

Atsumu and Sakusa is heard to be grumbling to this day

You and Hinata had the best vacation together, a lot of people mistakenly you as his girlfriend, his little sister didn’t let you go at all and made Hinata jealous of her

Everyone got drunk one night at the hotel and Bokuto was sleeping in your bed, Shugo didn’t want you to stay in that hotel room (Bokuto is dangerous)

You stayed in Shugo’s room instead,he’s a gentleman and slept on the floor, but when you had a nightmare he was the one that calmed you down from it and hugged you all night......

They loved how you cheered for them during games which made them invincible

You would always cooked food for them after a tiring game and Sakusa would never miss it like ever; your food is heaven

It was Christmas and Adriah couldn’t go home because all the planes were booked which meant he was alone for this Christmas, which sadden you a lot “Adriah come celebrate with me!” You smile, he literally combusts and spends Christmas with you and sent it to the team group chat

Everyone sent the middle finger emoji while Adriah was having a blast

Atsumu helped you bake a cake for Shion’s birthday, it was a whole mess it was you sitting on the counter eating the left over icing as he jokes around, he was covered with flour so were you “you look dumb” “you look dumber” you stuck your tongue which made him roll his eyes but in the end of the day it was worth helping

You were sad because of a movie Bokuto was next to you, “don’t be sad y/n it’s just a movie” he pulls you into his chest, “but it’s sad!” “I know” he smile at your childish antics, holding you in his arms felt so right

Their feelings started to run deeper like they couldn’t function without you at their sides

Sakusa woke up because of a dirty dream featured you

He literally jumped out of bed and took a cold shower for 2 hours

During the long rides on the bus you would sit next to Shion and accidentally fell asleep on him which he didn’t mind

The guys glared at him but he ignored them and fell asleep too

Since you were so attractive that they had to have their guards up because every guy you pass will come flirt with you

Hinata got you out of a sticky situation from a guy that was on the opposite team

All them have feelings for you but they won’t confess as long they are sure you have the same feelings for them

And for the team they have a strong bond that won’t break them apart even if losing you was the cost then so be it as long you are happy

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#msby black jackal #msby bj #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #hinata shoyuo #koutarou bokuto

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

Tough Decisions

A/N: Hey there! I said I was going to write Peter Stone angst, and here it is! This is based on one of the HC’s I wrote; make sure you read the tags!

Tags: implied smut, angst, miscarriage, blood

Words: 2436

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @shroomiehomie @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @prettypyschoinpink @cycat4077 @redlipstickandplaid @joanofarkansass

When the doctor announced that you were pregnant, you and Peter were over the moon. And when she then dropped that you were pregnant with twins, your eyes went wide. You glanced at Peter, whose shock match yours, before a broad grin stretched across his face, and he hugged you excitedly.

“Twins!” he whispered against your shoulder before he kissed your cheek.

Peter was a model husband the entire pregnancy; of course, he still worked, as did you, but he waited on you hand and foot whenever you were together. And once your due date was close, you took maternity leave, Peter taking the copious vacation days he had saved up for this moment. His paternity leave would technically start after you gave birth, but he was there every step of the way.

A few weeks after the twins were born, Peter started going back to work—half days, just to save up vacation time again. You were lucky enough to be able to work from home, not wanting a nanny yet, not when your boys were so young.

One night, Peter came home—one of the first full days he was back at work—and kissed you desperately.

“Are the twins in bed?” he asked hoarsely, hands on your hips.

You giggled at his eagerness. “They are.”

“Good—it’s been too long,” he growled, kissing you again.

He pulled you towards the bedroom, tiptoeing past the nursery. You were both not wanting more kids, and he made sure to pull on a condom. It wasn’t until after he was climbing off you, moving to remove the condom, that you both noticed it broke.

“R-remember how long it took you to get pregnant the first time? There’s no way—”

“I still have extra tests; I’ll take one tomorrow,” you said, cutting him off.

Peter nodded. “For now, let’s go to the bathroom, clean you up.”

*********************

As luck would have it, you did get pregnant from that broken condom. After talking it out, both you and Peter decided to keep it—one more little Stone wouldn’t be that big of a deal…right? Even so, Peter called his doctor, making an appointment for a vasectomy.

It took Peter a full 5 months after the twins’ birth to succumb to Sonny’s persistent nagging to meet them. You just chuckled, shaking your head as you got the twins ready and made your way down to the precinct. Peter was already there, working; well, trying to work a deal with a perp, and then threatening him with extended jailtime when he declined.

He came out of the interview room, cocking his head at the commotion he heard by the detective’s desks. He smiled proudly as he saw you, surrounded by his friends and coworkers, all of whom were cooing over your babies.

“God, they both look just like Stone,” Sonny said, wiggling his fingers in front of one of the boy’s faces. Ben, if Peter had to guess.

“They really do; they got that blond hair and the same chin,” you replied, smiling. Your eyes were locked on Ben’s little hand, wrapping around Sonny’s finger.

Peter made his way over with Olivia, and when he stood next to you, he puffed his chest out proudly. “They’re my little mini-me’s,” he beamed. He kissed your cheek, then scooped Billy from your arms.

“Congratulations, you two,” Olivia said, a bright smile on her face as well.

“Wait, Ben and Billy? Can I ask where you got the names?” Amanda asked, looking at you both.

Peter shifted Billy in his arms, bouncing him slightly. “Ben is named after my father. And Billy is named after Billy Williams—”

“The Cubs player?” Amanda questioned, her eyes lighting up.

He huffed; of course she knew him. “Well, yes—”

“Carisi, you owe me $20, and Fin, you owe me $10!” Amanda announced excitedly. You and Peter gave her a look, and she quickly clarified, “I knew you’d name a kid after a ball player!”

Peter’s cheeks grew pink, and you laughed.

The merriment was cut off as the perp Peter and Olivia had been meeting with was dragged through the precinct by an officer. “You and your whore are dead, Stone! And those two little bastards!”

You pulled Ben closer to your chest, suddenly wishing you had Billy in your arms, too. Peter stared the man down, moving to stand between you and the perp, blocking your line of sight. But not before you saw the pure hatred in the man’s eyes. It also didn’t make you feel any better seeing how burly the man was compared to the officer pulling him away; the perp had a full foot on him, not to mention a few hundred pounds.

Peter turned back to you, seeing how shaken you looked. “In other news, my lovely wife is six weeks pregnant,” he announced to the silent precinct.

The detectives exploded with giddiness, congratulating you both. You smiled, thanking them, but you couldn’t get the image of that man’s eyes out of your mind. Peter could still sense you were off, even with your smile, and he kissed the top of your head.

“I think I’m going to take this little lady and my little pebbles home now, get them some rest. Call me if you need me,” he said, turning you towards the exit.

“You’ll have to bring them back in sometime; they’re too damn cute…. And if you ever need an emergency babysitter, you have my number!” Sonny called after you both, making Peter chuckle, thanking him.

You were still carrying Ben, Peter carrying Billy, when there was an animalistic roar from the left. You turned to look and saw that perp from before charging straight for you. You instinctively turned away from him, clutching Ben to you for protection. Peter, with Billy in his arms, could only let out a yell as the man collided with your back. You grunted, falling forward, your legs knocked out from under you. Time seemed to slow as you fell, and you rolled in midair, hoping to land on your back and not on your baby. Though, the movement shifted you to the side slightly, and you hit the back of your head on the corner of a desk. You were unconscious before you hit the floor.

***

Peter saw the man hit you, and saw you twist in midair. You landed on your back, Ben landing softly on your chest. He started to cry, and then Sonny and Fin were tackling the perp to the ground. Peter was frozen as he looked at your lifeless body, blood starting to pool on the white tile by your head. Olivia and Amanda were there in an instant, trying to stop the bleeding. One of them—Peter couldn’t tell which—handed him Ben. Billy, hearing his twin cry, started to wail, and Peter finally moved, bouncing them both and trying to calm them. But his eyes never left your face, your eyes closed and a halo of dark red around you.

“Wh-what just happened?” he muttered, stunned.

Olivia was talking in her radio and shouting orders while Amanda was pushing towels—Peter missed when she got them—to the back of your head. The paramedics got there after an indescribable amount of time passed, and Peter watched them place you on the gurney.

“Stone? Stone!...Peter!” Olivia said, trying to get his attention. His eyes snapped to her face. “You can’t ride in the ambulance with the twins—I’ll give you a ride, okay?” He nodded dumbly, allowing her to guide him out to her car.

Ben and Billy finally stopped crying—Peter was still holding them while sitting in the backseat, since Olivia didn’t have a baby seat in her squad car—and Peter just stared out the windshield.

“She’ll be fine, Peter; she’s a fighter,” Olivia was saying.

It took him a while to figure out that she was talking about you. It struck him then that he may have just…lost you. Lost you and the child you were carrying. And he had done nothing to protect you. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over and down his cheeks. It was like he had awoken from a dream, a nightmare really, and he was conscious of his surroundings once more.

“I-I want that bastard to get the needle,” he muttered. He glanced down at his little boys, both of which passed out from crying so much. How the fuck would he be able to raise these beautiful boys without you?

“You won’t be able to prosecute—”

“I can’t lose her, Liv. Either of them. I-I can’t,” Peter choked out. Now that the realization hit him, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Olivia gave him a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror. “I know, Peter. I know.”

********************

By the time they got to the hospital, you were already back in surgery. Peter carried the twins to the lobby, sitting down gently in a chair, and pulling his sleeping babes to his chest. They anchored him, kept him in reality. He stopped crying, needing to stay strong for them, especially once they both awoke. He bounced both knees, gently rocking them as he tried to keep his world—their world—from falling apart. Sonny and Amanda showed up soon after, and then it seemed like the whole precinct was there, to give you and Peter support.

Amanda and Olivia eventually took one twin each, letting Peter rub his face with his hands…and letting him have another good cry. Sonny tried to comfort him, but his words fell flat. There was nothing to say.

Eventually, a doctor came out, glancing at the officers filling the lobby. Peter stood, hurrying to him, hopeful but also terrified.

“Are you Mr. Stone?” he asked.

He nodded. “Y-yes…please, tell me, how is she?”

“I’m sorry; your wife is barely hanging on. But…if we don’t terminate the pregnancy, she may not make it. We need your signature to okay the procedure,” the doctor explained.

Sound ceased and the floor fell away as Peter’s world came to a grinding halt. All eyes were on him, but he couldn’t feel them; all he felt was a deep, reverberating sadness.

“Mr. Stone? Do we have your consent?” the doctor pushed; time was short.

“…yes. Please, save my wife. I’ll sign whatever forms I need to, just save my wife,” Peter pleaded.

The doctor nodded, handing him a clipboard with a form. He didn’t even read it before signing, but he felt as if he was signing away a part of himself. The doctor took the clipboard back, then gave him a look. “I’m so sorry.” And then he was rushing off.

A figure—Sonny, though Peter couldn’t see him—approached, and he collapsed into the detective’s arms, sobbing. Sonny rubbed his back, but there was nothing he could do to lessen the weight in Peter’s heart. He guided him back to a chair, then offered to go grab water and snacks, before leaving.

Everyone gave Peter space, trying to let him cry privately, only Olivia and Amanda staying close, so that his babies were at least close; a reminder that he hadn’t lost everything. As the hours ticked by, the only people who left were the ones that had to go to work.

The doctor finally came back. Peter had just stopped crying and was holding his twins once more when the doctor came up to him.

“Your wife is out of surgery and is stable. She’s still unconscious and weak. I’ll let you know when you may see her,” he announced.

Peter nodded. “Th-thank you. Will she be okay?”

“She’s not out of the woods quite yet, but we’re hopeful for a full recovery.”

He nodded once more, and the doctor left. Peter looked down at Ben and Billy. “You hear that, boys? Your mommy is—she’s still—” he couldn’t continue, having to blink away the tears before his sons could see them.

With the announcement that you were out of surgery and resting in recovery, most of the officers left, giving Peter words of comfort as they made their way out of the hospital. Both Olivia and Amanda had to leave, too, to check on their own children. Only Sonny stayed, claiming he had nowhere to be, and wanting to help at least with the twins.

It wasn’t until much later that Peter was allowed to visit you. Sonny offered to hold onto the boys, but Peter wanted the whole family together. He thanked Sonny, letting him know he could go home if he wanted; Peter didn’t think he’d leave your side. Sonny nodded, offering once more to watch the kids if Peter needed him to.

***

You were laying in the bed, your head pounding. Your eyes were rimmed red, but not because of the pain. You sat up straighter as Peter entered your room, the twins in his arms, his own eyes red.

“Pete, I’m so sorry, I lost—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. You were a victim; besides…I had to okay it,” he said.

You closed your eyes in emotional pain. You couldn’t imagine how the decision must’ve torn him up inside. You composed yourself, then looked at your wonderful husband with sad eyes.

“I-I want…I need to hold my boys, babe. But…I’m afraid I can’t,” you whispered. You lifted your arms pathetically, your arms like limp noodles from the drugs and blood loss.

“The doctor said you were going to be weaker for a little bit,” Peter said softly. You gave him big, sad eyes, and he couldn’t take it. “Here, sit up a little straighter—and you can only hold one at a time.”

You nodded, shifting up on the bed. Peter place Billy in your lap, and you smiled down at him while Peter started placing pillows under your elbows. Once your arms were stabilized, he lifted Billy from your lap to your chest. You clutched your baby, holding him close to you while Peter sat in the chair by your bed, holding Ben tightly as well.

“How’re we going to get passed this?” you asked softly, rocking Billy to sleep.

Peter took a moment to respond; his eyes were glued to Ben as he bounced him gently. “One day at a time,” he finally said. “I didn’t lose you, the love of my life. And we have two beautiful baby boys. We’ll get through this…as a family.”

You nodded; he was right, of course. He stood, leaning over you, and kissing your forehead. Then, he held Ben and Billy to your face in turn, letting you kiss your sons. As long as you had your three boys, you’d be okay.

#peter stone x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #angst

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biscuitfam · 3 years

Text

The Other Side

Request: hello all good? are you better? if you have time, i could write a picture of doctor 12 x reader with the song "The Other Side Ruelle "anguish with happy ending, please.

Pairings: [12th] Doctor x Reader, Clara

WC: 963 TW:

Did he ever see it coming Would he ever let it go?

The Doctor didn’t understand what the other side felt like. Watching from the sidelines where he had to watch his loved one change into a new person with a new face, and new everything. He never saw it coming, he never thought you’d distance yourself from him when he changed his face. He had done it before, when changing from sandshoes to chinny. Why was this time any different than before? Was it the wrinkles? The grey hair? Or the fact that he broke your dreams? He promised you the world and now you were half way across the world, or universe.

He bowed his head and dug his nails into the flesh of his palms, gazing distantly across the counsel where you once stood, laughing and holding on for dear life due to his so superb flying skills. The old man clenched his eyes shut and turned viscously on his heels. He couldn’t just show back up unannounced. You’d have his skin. He could still see the anger in your eyes and sadness within your voice. He had hurt you. He hurt you so deeply.

You watched on as your husband changed his face once again. He kept changing into another face, another person, someone you had to learn all over again with the fear of him not remembering you. You sat on the floor as his energy exploded and circled the room bringing destruction in it’s path. You were angry. Angry that he had to go and change once more after you become accustomed to this new face. The last time he changed..he was afraid of you. He forgot your face for a few days before the memories came in.

Fear struck again that he would be different.

That he would change so much that he might not want you around anymore.

His face wouldn’t be an issue as it came to find out, but it was the feeling of being wanted. He made you feel like you were no longer wanted anymore. His personality had done a complete 180 unlike his previous regenerations that were so similar despite their individual quirks. He made you feel unloved.

It had been a few months since the Doctor had last heard from you. Clara had returned home due to the lack of adventures and to give the Doctor some privacy in his wallowing. Hell, she had tried to make him leave the TARDIS. She tried so hard to get him back on his feet, but in the end he did not want to budge without you by his side. The Doctor groaned and ran a hand through his salt and pepper colored hair with a slight tug on the brittle ends.

Just outside those doors was your home much like it was reflected on the screens. The place hadn’t changed much, at least the outside. The same dull yellow bi-fold shutters lined the windows of the crème colored home. Where the summer time flower bushes stood was replaced with thick snow banks caused by, he assumed, shoveling due to the marks indented upon the snow. Another sharp sigh slipped past his lips as he caught himself eyeing every detail in a lame attempt to distract himself. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you still that saddened look upon you face as you locked eyes?

He glanced down to the ring on his finger that held nicks and dents from the years of travels. Despite how dirty and damaged it may be, he would never remove it. The old girl groaned loudly as if telling him “ Get going, old man.” The Doctor rolled his eyes and turned on his foot and down the ramp to the doors.

“ You know, I don’t like your attitude.” He snarked back at her causing her to give another whine and open the doors herself to get him the extra push out the doors and to the snowy escape of your front yard. Instead of being met with the closed door his face met yours. You didn’t look much different than when you left, hair slightly longer and laugh lines deeper. You looked older.

“ How long has it been?” He begun, clearing his throat slightly despite it not fixing the nervous croak escaping. That seemed to bring a smile to your eyes anyway as you approached apprehensively with open arms.

“ Couple years, but who’s counting? I wanted to say I’m sorry-”

“ It’s only been about five months for me. Well, five months, thirteen days, and fifty six minutes exactly...but you don’t need to apologize. I think I understand what went wrong, Maybe? I know this face isn’t a looker but -- I treated you so unfairly, y/n. You’ve been such a faithful companion, lover, and wife. You have been by me through all these troubles the last decade and..”

You pressed a shaky finger to his lips and shook your head, “ It doesn’t matter what you look like. I have always loved you with each changing face. It was how you changed with us. it seemed as if I was nothing. I didn’t feel loved anymore and I couldn’t handle the ache anymore of wishing you were the old you. I can see you in there Doctor, I can see you’ve missed me, but I need change. I can’t come back to the same situation.” You breathed as he pulled you into his touch. Long coated arms wrapped around you waist tightly.

“ Never again, y/n. I lost you once, not again. I can never lose you again. I don’t want to leave here without you. I don’t want to lose a part of me.”

TAG LIST

@yourneighbourhoodclown @whatiswrongwithpeople @emilythezeldafan

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justreadingfics · 4 years

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It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though… “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes” waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy.

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table.

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you.

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group.

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it’s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing.

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind. Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky smut #smut #floof #it's a deal

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 years

Text

Alex meets Ari, epilogue

Content Warnings: demon/incubus character, romance, established relationship, car accident mention, injuries, bruises, arguments, angst, emotional whump, caretaking, consensual kissing and touching, happy ending

Tag List: @deluxewhump @grizzlie70 @gatheringofsuffering @xmonster-under-the-bed @emreads @whumpingmydarlings @endless-whump

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe I actually finished something I started!! Once again, thanks so so much to everyone who’s read these. :)

----

Dating Alex is like dating the weather. There are storms and dreary skies, calm overcast days, days of warm sunshine. Getting to know him is like diving into a lake he thinks is shallow only to find unexpected depths of thoughts and feelings, of humor and intelligence. In spite of the relatively mundane life they lead, Arinn finds he is never bored.

All of it is a novelty. Staying with the same person, of course, takes adjustment. Arinn had such a set routine and methodology when it came to finding sustenance that he feels a little lost when it’s gone. But that void is always quickly filled. They binge shows, they try recipes, they take walks. They go to movies and restaurants and, yes, the mummies exhibit and other museums. It’s the closest thing to a normal life Arinn has ever had, yet it feels strange and exciting.

Perhaps the most astounding thing is the lack of pressure to have sex. Before this he was in bed with a new person a couple times a week. Often someone he didn’t particularly like, just to scrounge for the smallest touches to keep himself going. Worse than that, sometimes he would end up discovered, captured and tormented, with no one to help, not like that day Alex found him. The things that were done to him, that he had to bear alone…

But now he only has sex when he actually wants to, and it feels like a small miracle. He enjoys sex well enough, but is more than happy with cuddling, kissing, even lying with his feet across Alex’s lap. And if the kissing gets heated or Alex looks particularly gorgeous that day, well…Arinn certainly isn’t going to complain if they end up in bed.

A little over eight months into dating, Arinn’s lease ends and he moves in. He spends most nights there anyway, but still, it’s a little daunting. But between their jobs and Alex’s therapy and workouts, it doesn’t feel like they’re constantly around each other. Arinn adjusts to it quickly. He can’t deny how incredible it feels to know without a doubt that he won’t go to bed alone each night.

They both work early shifts, starting before dawn and getting home in the early afternoon. So Arinn isn’t prepared at all when Alex comes home telling him he’s going to have to work an evening shift for a couple of weeks.

During the first week, Arinn returns from work only an hour before Alex has to leave to catch the bus. Other than that single hour and when Alex crawls into bed at night, they have no time together. By Friday, Arinn is beyond ready for the weekend. He works Saturday morning, but he doesn’t care. He’s prepared to stay up late just to greedily take in a little extra time with Alex.

“I’ll be home by 10:30,” Alex promises as he gets dressed.

Arinn has the restraint to wait until he’s finished buckling his belt to go over and kiss him. “10:30. I’ll be here.”

Alex’s smile warms him like nothing he’s ever felt. “Good.” He kisses Arinn once, then again, then a third time. He’s contemplating a fourth when Arinn nudges him towards the door.

“Go on,” he says reluctantly. “Have a good day. Night. Whatever.”

Alex laughs as he slips his shoes on. “I’ll try.” And then he’s out the door.

----

10:30 rolls around. Arinn has showered, tidied up the house, and threw together a small meal for Alex to heat up if he’s hungry. Then he plops onto the couch and waits.

At 10:37 he assumes the bus is running late. At 10:49 he wonders if Alex missed the bus and had to catch another. He bounces his leg impatiently and checks his phone every couple minutes in case Alex calls or texts.

He doesn’t.

By 11:00 Arinn is up and pacing. He calls Alex but gets no answer. He leaves voicemails, his voice shaking. He texts him. Where are you? Are you okay? Did work run over? Please answer me.

He said 10:30, Arinn thinks. He said no later than that. He promised. But he isn’t here…

Arinn doesn’t know what to do. He flips between worry and anger and hurt. What if something happened? What if he went out for drinks with coworkers? What if he lied? The possibilities spiral through his mind unchecked.

Then, at 11:43, there’s a key in the lock. It clicks, and the door creaks open.

Alex steps - stumbles - inside and closes the door slowly behind him before leaning back against it with a long sigh.

He looks like hell. His hair is a mess. There’s a bruise on his cheek. His jacket is torn and his clothes are dirty. He’s got one arm draped across his opposite side and he’s breathing raggedly.

Arinn can’t process this. Alex said 10:30, he wasn’t here, Arinn was going out of his mind, and now he shows up looking like this. It’s too much. Before he can stop to think, he explodes.

“Where the hell were you?! It’s been over an hour! Did you get into a fight or something? What the fuck, Alex?”

Arinn is shaking. If he could just stop and think he’d know he isn’t really angry, just shaken. He would see the hurt in Alex’s eyes. He would reach for him with care rather than lash out with accusations.

Alex’s face hardens. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his keys up on the hook.

“Bus crashed,” he mumbles. “Driver had a stroke or something. Ran off the road and rolled onto its side. None of us could leave until we were all looked over by the paramedics and questioned by the police.” He winces as he removes his jacket. “I was lucky I guess. Just some bruising. Got cleared and got a ride here from a cop. Some people left in ambulances.”

Something sinks inside of Arinn. His resolve crumbles and he’s left at a loss for words.

“Why didn’t you call?” he manages weakly. “I would have - have - “

“Have what? Picked me up? We don’t have a car.”

“You still could have told me! Or at least answered my texts!”

“My phone fell out of my pocket!” Alex bursts out. “It’s probably still in the bus being towed halfway across town by now. It’s not like they were going to let me go look for it while they were trying to pry out people who were trapped!”

He begins to walk stiffly toward the kitchen, past Arinn without so much as looking at him. Arinn follows numbly. He watches Alex take a pack of frozen veggies from the freezer and hold it to his side while he leans on the counter for support. His back is to Arinn.

“Fuck...” he whispers. “Alex, I - god, that’s - I don’t know what to say…” Say sorry you idiot! “Thank god you’re alright...I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you…”

Alex huffs. “Guess you’d have to find a new meal ticket,” he snaps.

As soon as he says it the room feels colder. Tension hangs over them like a dark cloud. There’s a hesitation from Alex. For a moment it seems like he might speak. Might take it back. But he only sighs and carefully makes his way into the living room. Arinn hears him groan as he sits on the couch. He continues staring at the place where Alex was just standing.

Arinn’s feet are moving before he knows what he’s doing. He throws his shoes and coat on over his pajamas and is out the door.

He hears it slam behind him.

He hears “Ari, wait! Shit - “

He keeps going.

He doesn’t look back.

Arinn is a block from the apartment building before he finally slows down. He can barely see the sidewalk ahead of him through the blur of tears.

I fucked up. I fucked up. It’s over. I fucked up.

He’s angry, but only at himself. If Alex meant what he said it has to be because Arinn screwed up, didn’t show him enough that he cared, wasn’t good enough at communicating. He should have known he was in over his head. That it was too good to last.

“Arinn!”

Arinn stops walking. It can’t be…

He whirls around to find Alex staggering after him. Even in the dim light from the street lamps Arinn can see that he’s struggling to remain standing, let alone walk. Yet here he is.

“What are you doing?” Arinn croaks. “Y-you’re hurt, you need to be resting…”

With considerable effort, Alex catches up to him. He’s panting heavily. Arinn can’t decide if he wants to turn and run or pull Alex into his arms. He does neither.

“I’m - sorry - “ Alex gets out between breaths. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I was angry - it, it just popped out - “

“I don’t blame you,” Arinn says quietly. “Given what you know about me. But if it means anything, I - I don’t see you that way. As just a - a meal.”

“I know,” Alex says, putting his whole heart into the words. His eyes are shining. He looks desperate and fragile and Arinn just wants to gather him close and make it all okay again.

“I know that,” he says again. “Please believe me. I shouldn’t have said that, it was so stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Arinn asks a little too harshly. He flinches and softens his tone. “I attacked you the minute you walked in the door. After the night you had that’s the last thing you fucking needed. I was just scared.” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Alex. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

When Alex speaks again he’s a little closer. Just a few feet from Arinn, but still not close enough to touch.

“Me either,” he says. “This is the first time since coming here that I’ve had to actually use the things I’m trying to get better at...it’s like, therapy was just training but this is the real deal. And I’m so scared I’m going to fuck it all up. Like I did tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Arinn whispers. He lowers his hands and wraps his arms around himself, feeling cold and brittle. “This - us fighting - is what I was most afraid of. I can’t help what I am. If - if it goes wrong, if we spend time apart or - or - “ he can’t bring himself to even say the words break up aloud for fear they will manifest as real. “ - or separate, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just go sleep with someone else if we’re still together, or if it’s unclear! I’m a lot of things but I’m not a cheater. I - I wouldn’t, I couldn’t…”

Alex listens. He always listens. Even when he’s tired or stressed or angry. Even now, when he’s injured and shouldn’t even be out here.

“You’re right,” he says when he’s sure Arinn is finished. “You can’t help who you are. And I won’t ever really understand what that’s like.” He takes a shaky breath. “What if we made some kind of deal or something. Like, if...if it ever comes to that, you can do what you have to do. No questions asked.”

Arinn’s chest feels tight. He’d do that? He’d let me do that? He knows the depth of Alex’s abandonment issues, between parents who were never around and friends and boyfriends who left him when he needed them most.

And yet he’s willing to look past Arinn sleeping with someone else, willing to trust that it’s nothing more than for his survival. It’s an offer that so many others would happily exploit. The amount that Alex is putting his heart on the line is daunting.

“I don’t want that,” Arinn replies, his voice cracking. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

As soon as he says the words he knows that they’re true.

Alex steps a little closer. His expression is indecipherable. His bottom lip is trembling.

“Really?” And oh, the disbelief in his voice is the most heartbreaking thing. Arinn feels a swell of hatred toward every person who made Alex feel like no one could ever want him.

“Yes, really.” Arinn steps a little closer, too. “Alex…”

The next words terrify him. He feels as though he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff, and if he doesn’t make his move, however risky, he’s going to fall to his death. The truth is all he has now. It could ruin everything, or save it.

“Alex, I love you.”

Fragile silence follows, filled only by the soft chirp of crickets, the hum of someone’s television from a house, a train off in the distance.

A car comes up the road. Its headlights illuminate Alex’s face for a moment and Arinn can see the deep sea of emotion in his eyes.

Arinn is tensed so tight he feels like he might snap. He can feel his mind seeking a way out, the walls he’d let down going up -

“I love you too, Ari.”

With those softly spoken words the walls crumble to dust. He stares, dazed, at Alex.

“Don’t say it just because I said it,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Alex is shaking his head. He’s searching for words.

“No, no - you don’t understand, I-I do. I have. For a while now. But I was scared, I didn’t know where we stood. Or if it was too soon.”

“For...a while?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, hanging his head like a chastised child. “Don’t even know exactly when. I think maybe...I was a little in love with you right from the beginning. Which sounds crazy, I know.” He shrugs. “I’m a little crazy, I guess. And a lot to handle. But I know what I feel. And I love you.”

Arinn starts to speak but chokes on a sob. He throws his hand over his mouth. Tears stream from his eyes as he stares at Alex. Alex loves him. No one has ever loved him. He’s never loved anyone. It’s so much all at once, he can’t even get a word out. His sobs grow harder, everything he’s feeling boiling up and spilling over.

He doesn’t see Alex move closer, but he feels it when Alex’s arm wraps around him. He’s right here, warm and solid and real. He loves me…

Arinn finds himself pulled in by his gravity, leaning closer until he can bury his face in Alex’s shoulder. Alex tips his head to rest against Arinn’s.

“Please come home,” Alex whispers. “Please.”

Something between a hiccup and a laugh bubbles out of Arinn. “Of course I’m fucking coming home,” he says, the words half muffled into Alex’s shirt. He slips his arm around Alex’s uninjured side and holds on desperately. Alex kisses his head. Arinn doesn’t comment on the tears he feels drip into his hair from Alex’s cheek.

They stay like that until Arinn’s sobs cease and Alex’s breathing calms. By then it must be near one in the morning. A chill runs through Alex and his breath hitches as the movement jostles his injuries. The sound finally spurs Arinn into action.

“Come on,” he says, gently easing Alex’s face up. Alex looks like he could fall asleep where he’s standing. Arinn cups his cheek and kisses him deeply. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of you.”

Alex nods gratefully. He remains glued to his side, leaning heavily against Arinn as they slowly make the walk back.

----

Arinn’s hands shake as he prepares two cups of tea. In the quiet of the apartment there’s nothing stopping him from turning over the events of the night in his mind.

Tonight things came too close to ending, in more ways than one. If Alex hadn’t followed him he doesn’t know if they could have salvaged things the next day or not. He’s never done this. He doesn’t know when to keep fighting and when to give up. Tonight...tonight he gave up too quickly.

But what has him more shaken is the crash Alex was in. What he said was right: he was lucky. Arinn hates that he’s hurt at all, but it could have been so much worse. He could have been hospitalized, paralyzed, concussed, killed…

Arinn shudders and nearly drops the kettle as he goes to put it back. He stops and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. He’s okay. He’s okay.

He sets the cups on a tray - a real tray, not the baking pan Alex once brought him breakfast on - and carries them to the bedroom, trying to appear more together than he feels.

Alex is resting on the bed with his eyes closed, breathing softly. When they got back he managed to remain sitting up long enough for Arinn to peel off his ruined clothes and get some boxers onto him, then he flopped back against the pillows with a groan while Arinn maneuvered his legs onto the bed and pulled a sheet up to his waist.

Arinn sets the tray on the bedside table and looks at him. He focuses first on the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s impossible for his eyes not to wander to the deep bruising that mars Alex’s skin, from the left side of his face trailing down over his shoulder and arm, his chest and ribs and side, fading out at his hip.

It’s a fucking miracle that nothing is broken. Something must have padded his fall somewhat. Arinn tries not to think about it too hard, because if he does, he imagines Alex’s body being tossed like a ragdoll against unforgiving metal and he wants to scream.

“Hey,” he says. He sits at the edge of the bed and strokes Alex’s cheek until his eyes open. As soon as he sees Arinn he presses his cheek into his hand. Arinn smiles. If he didn’t know better, sometimes he’d think Alex was the one who survived on touch.

“Tea’s ready. I have medicine, too. Tomorrow I’ll go get you something stronger but this will have to do for now. And then we can go to sleep.”

Alex nods, blinking slowly. He turns his face and kisses Arinn’s palm. “Thank you…”

“Stop that. You don’t have to thank me.” He reluctantly takes his hand away from Alex’s face. “Can I prop you up a little?”

Alex nods again, reluctantly. He draws in a sharp breath when he tries to sit up a little so Arinn can put another pillow behind him. “Ah...fuck, it hurts…”

“I know...I know, babe…” Arinn gets the pillow back there as quick as he can and then eases Alex gently back against it. He kisses all over his face in praise. “Just think, if it was worse and you went to the hospital, some nurse could be doing this right now.”

Alex chuckles. “Guess you’re my nurse instead.”

“Hmm. I don’t think nurses are supposed to do this to their patients…” he dips in and kisses him. Alex’s eyes slip shut and he sighs as their lips part.

“No, you’re right,” he agrees. “That has to be against some kind of protocol.”

Hearing him joke around lightens the weight in Arinn’s chest. He kisses Alex one more time and then takes his teacup from the tray and holds it up for him. “Here…good arm only, remember.”

Alex takes the cup with his right hand and takes a sip. He hums with approval.

“This is good.”

“This is how tea is supposed to taste when you don’t over steep it,” Arinn teases gently.

“Guess you’re making the tea from now on.”

“Gladly.”

While Alex sips at his drink Arinn looks through the things he pulled from the medicine cabinet. There are a couple different varieties of pain pills and some sort of bruise relief gel he’s never heard of.

“That’s for work injuries,” Alex says when he notices Arinn holding the bottle. “Doesn’t happen often but sometimes I drop something on my foot or lose my footing and fall. A coworker recommended it. It does help. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move enough to put it on, though…”

“Who said anything about you putting it on?” Arinn turns the bottle over to read the back. “You aren’t moving an inch. I’m taking care of you.”

When Alex doesn’t answer he looks up. His breath catches when he sees the open fondness on Alex’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing...I’m just...really lucky.”

Arinn feels his cheeks heating and he can’t do a damn thing about it. “Well...I am your nurse, right?”

“Mmhmm. My hot nurse.” Alex winks suggestively. In his weariness the gesture is clumsy, but it still makes Arinn’s blush deepen.

“Good lord, you’re already loopy and you haven’t even taken the pain meds yet.” Arinn pops open the bottle and puts a pill in his hand.

Alex reaches for it, but Arinn decides it’s only fair to turn the tables a little. He shakes his head and holds the pill up. Alex’s eyes follow it as Arinn slips it onto his own tongue.

His brow pinches. “What are you - oh - “

Arinn leans forward and kisses Alex slowly. As he does, he slips the pill into his mouth. When he pulls back, Alex is the one blushing.

He fumbles a little with the tea cup and drinks down the last of it, swallowing the pill. He lets out a shaky breath when he’s finished. “Holy shit Ari, you can’t just do things like that. I’m too banged up to - to - “

“To bang?”

Arinn grins. Alex groans, but he’s smiling. “You’re worse than I am.”

“And yet, you love me.” The words are still as foreign on his tongue as they are in his mind.

Alex’s expression turns soft, almost shy. He takes Arinn’s hand and squeezes it. “Yeah. I do.”

Arinn could drown in that deep gaze. To stay afloat he busies himself with opening the bottle of gel and squeezing some out into his hand.

“Alright. Last bit and then you can go to bed.” His hands hover over Alex’s heated skin. He chews his lip. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“It’ll only hurt at first,” Alex reassures him. “Then it’ll help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay…”

He starts small, rubbing a tiny bit of the gel onto Alex’s bruised cheek. That goes fine. He rubs it onto his arm and shoulder as carefully as he can and Alex barely flinches.

The bruising on his side is the worst of it, though, and Arinn dreads it. But that’s also where he needs this the most.

Arinn gets some more gel onto his palms. Slowly, gently, he smooths it over the tender skin, flinching himself every time Alex makes a pained sound. “Hang in there…” He makes sure he’s covered every inch before finally moving down to his hip. When he’s done he presses an apologetic kiss to Alex’s chest. “All done…”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you…” He closes his eyes as Arinn continues trailing comforting kisses up his neck and cheek, avoiding the bruised side.

When Alex’s breathing has evened out, Arinn gathers everything onto the tray and brings it to the kitchen to deal with tomorrow. He makes sure the door is locked, shuts off the lights, and then finally slips into bed beside Alex.

He lies there a while staring at Alex’s silhouette in the darkened room. Alex is so still, his breaths so slow, that Arinn assumes he must be sleeping. So it’s a surprise when his eyes open and he turns his head to meet Arinn’s gaze.

“You’re too far away,” he mumbles sleepily.

Arinn exhales. “I can’t exactly sprawl on top of you right now,” he whispers back.

“Then just…” he pats the small but notable empty space between them.

How can he not give in? At least it’s Alex’s uninjured side. He presses up close to him and holds his arm like a child holding a stuffed animal. “Better?”

“Better.”

After another stretch of silence, Arinn can’t help himself. “...Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t...can’t stop thinking about how it could have been so much worse…”

His tail curls over his hip, brushing against Alex’s hand where it lies on the bed. Alex cradles it and strokes it with his thumb.

“But it wasn’t. I’m right here, Ari.”

“But if you weren’t...if you hadn’t made it...you never would have known...” he nearly chokes on the whispered words.

“Known?”

“That I love you.”

“...neither would you,” Alex replies.

Arinn holds his arm a little tighter. He hadn’t thought of it the other way around, but Alex is right. In their fear and insecurity they both held in something the other desperately needed to hear.

“But now - “ Alex’s words are broken by a big yawn. “ - now we know…”

Arinn kisses his shoulder, overwhelmed with relief, gratitude, and love. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.” He kisses again and again, each one slower and sleepier than the last. “Get some rest,” he whispers against his skin. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

And the morning after that...and the next, and the next...

...and every morning after, for as long as you want.

-- The End --

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ohnojustimagine · 4 years

Text

Heated

The Shield/Reader, with a focus on Roman/Reader; 3500 words, smut smut smut

This is A/B/O, but kind of... just the bits of A/B/O I enjoy. So like, heats and lots of come but no knotting.

(And theoretically there is supposed to be a part 2 to this, but yeah, given my record on that, who knows.)

It's always embarrassed you, how irregular your heat cycle is. Other omegas seem to be able to predict the timing of their heats down to the day, marked safely on the calendar so they can plan ahead, but your own seem to ebb and flow, as if your cycle has a mind of its own.

And the worst of it is that your heats come on hard and fast, so fast that you've often ended up in awkward, sometimes even dangerous situations, unprotected by an alpha when in full heat, unable to isolate yourself.

Most of the alphas you've been with have hated it, dumping you when they can no longer handle the rollercoaster that is your cycle; always putting the blame squarely on you, too prideful to admit they're not up to the task of dealing with it.

But Roman, Seth and Dean are different. They seem to take it all in stride, always managing to somehow get you through your heat even if the timing isn't ideal, finding ways to work around any awkwardness. And the care and understanding they show has meant you've bonded with all three of them on a level that's deeper than you would have ever imagined you're capable of.

Tonight you're in the Shield's private locker room as they gear up ready for a six man tag match, and you haven't felt quite right all day, but you've been so busy that you haven't paid much attention, vaguely assuming it's simply exhaustion.

But then suddenly you start to feel dizzy, faint enough that you have to sit down, your skin tingling hot, a light buzzing sound in your ears, as if the air of the room is vibrating around you.

"Oh, god," you say, closing your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying not to start crying, because the timing couldn't be worse, and you hate this about yourself, that you can't control it in any way.

"What's wrong, baby?" Roman asks you, frowning. He takes a step towards you, and you hear him breathe in, the change in your scent already obvious. "Ohhh," he says. "Another heat."

"Again?" Seth says, incredulous, and though he doesn't exactly sound displeased Roman still shoots him a sharp look, shushing him.

"It's okay," he tells you, sitting down next to you, wrapping one big arm around you, kissing the top of your head.

"But it's nearly time for your match," you say, utterly miserable.

"I know," Roman replies, rubbing your arm. "But it'll be okay, I promise."

"We got time to fuck her before we go out?" Dean asks, sounding eager.

"No." Roman shakes his head. "We'll need all our energy for the match." He strokes your hair, looking down at your affectionately. "You know you always drain us, baby, with how bad you need it."

"I'm so sorry, I..." You breathe in, because you're already struggling to concentrate, the ache inside you growing into an acutely insistent throb of need, wetness gathering between your legs. "I don't think I can be by myself. Not here." WWE is a hotbed of the most alpha of alphas, and you know that once anyone catches your scent, they'll be after you, unable to resist the lure of your heat.

"We'll lock the door," says Roman.

"You know we always make sure we have a secure room, just in case," Seth chimes in.

"You promise?" you ask anxiously.

"We promise, baby," Roman tells you.

"Wouldn't hurt to have a little extra insurance policy, though?" Dean suggests, and Roman nods, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as he rises to his feet. He rummages through his bag, pulling out the chastity belt they'll often use on you when you're in heat. There's a small dildo attachment on the crotch of it, and you stand up, breathing in as you look at it.

Your clothes feel too hot and constricting on your body, like they're choking you, and you pull them off impatiently, not caring how you look, your t-shirt nearly getting stuck over your head, ignoring the sound of the zipper on your skirt ripping open, tossing it aside and stepping out of your panties.

You move your feet wider, biting down on the moan rising up in your throat as Roman walks around you, bending lower to guide the dildo inside you, getting it as deep as possible. And though it feels good, it's nowhere near big enough, you think, fretting a little as he fastens the belt into place, adjusting the straps, making sure you're comfortable. You exhale as the padlock on the front clicks into place, and Roman tugs on it, just to be sure.

The key is on a string that he loops around his neck, tucking it under his vest, out of sight.

"All safely locked away," he tells you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you whine as he pulls away, trying to hold onto him, but he peels you off him with a kindly smile.

"You good to go?" he asks Seth and Dean, who both nod.

"We're gonna be thinking about you," Seth tells you. "The whole time. Gonna be real hot to fuck you by the time we get back."

Dean inhales a deep breath, staring at you, lust in his eyes. "You sure we don't have time?" he asks, again. "Just a quickie to tide us over?"

"No," Roman replies firmly. "Got to do it right for her, you know that."

Dean shrugs, like he doesn't agree, but he doesn't say anything further, and Roman looks at you. "We'll be back as soon as we can," he assures you. "You just sit tight."

You nod, unable to even speak by now, watching them leave, closing the door behind them.

You note that Roman has locked it from both sides, and you know it's not that they don't trust you, it's just to make sure, but it's still humiliating, that you have to be contained like this, even if it is for your own good.

You throw yourself down on the couch, hand over your eyes, trying to breathe through it, need building inside you until you feel like you might explode, and you don't know how you're going to hold on.

You find a cloth, running it under the cold tap at the sink in the corner of the room and then folding it in half, pressing it to your forehead, dabbing it on your throat, your skin so hot it's almost burning, the coolness barely registering. You sigh, tossing the cloth aside, and pace up and down the room for a while, back and forth, counting your steps, but that only makes it worse, the dildo shifting inside you with every step. Your pussy is dripping wet, slick seeping out the sides of the belt, and you feel yourself clench involuntarily around the dildo, spasming helplessly. It's too small, you think, barely enough to fill you, and it's no good, anyway, because what you're craving inside you is come, alpha come, the only thing that can bring you even the slightest relief when you're in heat.

Your breasts are already starting to swell, firm when you touch them, your nipples taut and hard, and you lick your fingers, teasing the tight peaks, pinching them. You moan, too loud, you know, but you don't care, straddling the arm of the couch, rubbing yourself on it almost mindlessly, but you can't feel anything, the metal of the belt thick enough not to allow you any sensation. You groan in frustration, anger flaring inside you, childish resentment at the fact that your alphas aren't here to take care of you, and the logical part of your brain might know that's unreasonable, but your heat is taking over, and you can't think.

But then, out of nowhere, there's a sharp knock on the door and you jump up, guilty. Your heart races as you stand there, silent, watching as the door handle rattles, but the lock holds.

"Pretty baby," someone croons from outside in a sing-song voice. "I can smell you in there, sweet little omega all alone." You hear them suck in a deep breath, then exhale. "That's a nice heat you got going there, why don't you open the door for me, little one, and I'll give you what you need."

You stay frozen in place, barely daring to breathe, and the handle again rattles, this time with more force. You flinch as the surface of the door resounds with a violent kick, pressing your hand tight over your mouth so you don't gasp aloud, trembling with fear.

There's silence for a minute, and you dare to creep closer to the door, tiptoeing across the carpet, holding your breath. And you can hear something, rhythmic, small wet noises, and then there's a grunt, the sound of something spattering onto the door.

It drips down onto the floor, and you can smell it, and though it's not the same, not from your alphas, you're desperate enough that you let out a broken whine.

A laugh echoes from outside, and then the voice says, "Enjoy that, omega, and if you ever want a real alpha you can come find me anytime."

Footsteps echo away, and you back up into the furthest corner of the room, sinking down onto the floor, bending your knees up to your chest, tears running hot down your cheeks. You sob, quietly, and you don't know how much time passes, lost in your own private misery, but finally the door opens, and you look up, vision still blurred by tears.

Dean, Seth and Roman are standing there, staring at the door. "Gross," Dean comments.

"Seems like someone had themselves some fun," Seth says, shaking his head.

"Doesn't matter," Roman states. "As long as they stayed out." He walks towards you, asking, "You okay?" And you shake your head, hiccuping out one last sob. "Oh, baby," Roman says, giving you a concerned smile. "You're really not okay, are you?" He takes your hand, pulling you up to your feet.

"C'mon, man," Dean says, grabbing his crotch, rubbing at it. "Get that fucking belt off of her and I'll make her feel better than okay."

"Patience," Roman tells him, pulling the key out from under his vest.

"Yeah, fuck patience," Dean snaps back. "And just so you know, I'm going first."

"Why does he get to go first?" Seth complains.

"It doesn't matter who goes first," Roman says, calmly. "As long as we give her what she needs."

He carefully unlocks the belt, unfastening the straps, lifting it away from your body. You mewl at the feet of the dildo slipping out of your pussy, the thick scent of your heat suddenly filling the room, potent and undeniable. And all three of your alphas practically growl in desire, their spines straightening, standing tall and dominant, predatory instincts awakened, eyes flashing dark, but it's Dean that moves first, as promised, grabbing you. He drags you over to the table at the side of the room, shoving you down onto it face first, his hand tight on the back of your neck, your hips jammed up against the edge, digging into you. You feel him fumble with his pants, barely able to wait, wailing in relief as his cock sinks into you, fucking you, pumping hard.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

You moan, trying to push your hips back into him, pussy tightening rhythmically around him, keeping time with his thrusts, the need of your heat as if trying to pull his orgasm out of him, hungry for his come.

And it doesn't take long for him to finish, letting out a guttural, bitten-off moan as he comes, shooting thick and hot inside you, spurt after spurt, and it feels so good, but it's not enough, barely beginning to slake the thirst of your heat.

He pulls out of you, and Seth's right there, roughly flipping you over onto your back. He lifts up your legs, your ankles resting on his shoulders as he plows his cock into you, deep and hard and fast, holding on to your legs, his teeth gritted, face twisted up in desire.

His hips piston, thrusting with enough violence that you have to hold on to the edges of the table, your head rolling back, chest arching up towards him, your body begging for what you need.

And you see him close his eyes, tensing as his orgasm hits him, his cock releasing inside you, alpha come filling you yet again, but it only seems to make you want more.

His cock slips out of you, and you slide down onto the floor, legs so weak you doubt they could hold you, but Roman's sitting on the couch, waiting, and he beckons to you. "Come here, my sweet girl," he says, and you crawl over to him, letting him help you up into his lap, facing him, sitting astride his thighs. His hands are on your waist, pulling you up onto your knees, closer to him so your breasts are right in his face, and he nuzzles at them, humming in delight.

They're even more swollen now, taut and tender as he kisses your skin, licking, sucking on the hard peaks of your nipples, so sensitive it's almost unbearable.

It forever astonishes you that he can take his time with you like this when you're in heat, because the man has self-control like no alpha you've ever known, but Roman's special, always worth the wait even if right now you're too impatient to think about anything but his cock.

He gets one hand between your legs, pushing his palm firm up against the fullness of your clit, and you rut yourself on it, your hips working, feeling Seth and Dean's come leaking slowly out of you, gasping as Roman's teeth sink into the flesh of your breast, biting down hard enough to mark you.

You whine as he removes his hand, your hips still moving helplessly even though all that's there now is now empty air, and he kisses your mouth, tongue teasing frustratingly light over your lips.

"Yeah, you want Daddy's cock, don't you?" he murmurs. "Need more of that alpha come."

You nod at him, wide-eyed and desperate, and he smiles at you, hauling you up off his lap.

He sets you down on the floor, on your knees, turning you around so you're facing the couch, arms braced on the edge of the seat in front of you, and you arch your spine, your knees apart, pussy wet and hungry for him.

You pant, barely able to control your breathing you're so dizzy with anticipation, but then Roman slides into you, cock thick and slow, filling you up until you feel like you can't take anymore, and when he's as deep as he'll go, bottomed out inside you, he stops, not moving.

You're whining with every exhale, shaking all over, but Roman can't be rushed.

"Yeah," he says, softly. "So tight, aren't you?" He shifts himself slightly, and you moan at the feel of it. "Never had an omega like you, baby girl, full in heat but so hot and tight on my cock." He lets out a breathless, careless laugh, and you feel tears burning hot in your eyes, your whole being consumed with nothing but want. "Fuck you all night and that sweet pussy will still try and milk me for more."

You squirm, trying to move yourself on him, but he's ruthlessly unyielding, a solid wall behind you.

"You need to let go," he orders, gently yet firmly, "and let me take care of you." He rests one hand in the curve of your back, just above your ass, and you focus on your breath, inhaling and then exhaling, knowing that you have to stop fighting it, that you need to surrender, give yourself and your heat over to him, submit to the will of a true alpha.

You feel your body start to relax, trusting him, and it's only then that he starts to fuck you, slowly at first, but building in intensity and speed until he's pounding into you, holding onto your hips, your pussy so wet with slick that the noise of it seems to fill the room like something obscene.

Roman leans forward, hands either side of yours on the edge of the couch, his body over yours, broad chest pressed to your back. You feel as if you're being consumed by him, fucked until you're split wide open, nothing but a vessel for this need and when he finally comes it's like a rush, ecstasy and relief all at once, because this is what you've been craving, and you don't want it to ever stop, his cock pumping into you until you're so high you're not sure you'll ever come down from it.

But then at last he's done, pulling out of you, and you slump down, sitting on your heels on the floor, swaying slightly, the room feeling as if it's moving slowly around you. And Dean's already hard again, right there with his cock in your face. He gets one hand on your jaw, forcing your mouth open, pushing himself in past your lips, thrusting. And you're way too far gone to do anything but let him take what he needs, your heat meaning your throat is just as open as your pussy, and he goes deep, over and over until he's coming so hard that you struggle to keep up. You swallow as much as you can, lapping up the taste, the rest dripping warm down your chin.

He backs off, and you lean against the couch, exhausted, barely able to stay upright. And you can't even imagine the sight you must make, breathing hard, sweating, come and spit all over your face but Roman, Seth and Dean only gaze at you like you're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.

"You want her again?" Roman asks Seth, who shakes his head.

"Nah, I'll wait," he says. "We should get on the road."

"Yeah, it's getting late," Dean agrees, and they begin to pack up their bags.

You sit quietly, watching, only standing up when Roman brings one of his hoodies over to you, helping you put it on. He knows it's uncomfortable for you to wear too many clothes when you're in heat, but you need to be covered, and the hoodie is soft, comfortingly imbued with his scent, big enough that it reaches mid-thigh on your smaller frame.

But Seth looks at you, frowning. "Should we clean her up a little first?" he asks. "Can we get her out of here like this?"

"She's fine," Roman replies, no trace of doubt in his voice.

"Everyone's gonna to be able to smell her," says Dean, sounding unsure. "I mean, every alpha in the place will be after her."

Seth smirks, laughing. "Might be fun to stir up some trouble with the opposition, boys."

"They know their place," Roman says. "She's ours." But then he frowns to himself. "Still," he adds, "better put this back on her." He picks up the chastity belt, taking off the dildo attachment, and then he seems to think for a moment before going through one of his bags, producing a small, remote-controlled vibe.

And you whimper in discomforted anticipation, because you know how that's going to feel inside you, your pussy already so overstimulated that it will be way too much for you to deal with.

"Just for on the ride, baby girl," Roman tells you. "Got to keep you nice and hot for us."

You shake your head no, pouting in distress.

"Hey," Roman says, firmly. "You need to trust us." He cradles your face in one hand, his thumb stroking tender across your cheek. "Don't we always take care of you?"

And you nod, biting your lip, knowing you need to accept his authority.

"Hold her," he directs Seth, who stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You squirm a little, whining in protest, but Roman pays no attention, pushing the vibe into your pussy. It slips in easily with how wet you are, nestling up against your walls, and you bite down on your bottom lip, breathing out, because even the presence of it inside you is reigniting the intensity of your heat, urges beginning to return in full force.

"Don't worry," Roman says with a smile, clearly observing your reaction, "we won't turn it on yet."

You shift restlessly as he and Seth help you into the chastity belt, fastening it, locking it tightly, securing you for no one's use but theirs, under their protection.

You breathe out as Roman drops a brief kiss on your lips before draping one arm protectively over your shoulders.

"Ready, boys?" he asks.

"Ready," Seth agrees.

"Always," Dean says.

"Then let's go," says Roman, and he opens the door.

#ohnojustwrites #wwe imagine #roman reigns #the shield #roman reigns imagine #the shield imagine #dean ambrose imagine #seth rollins imagine

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