✍️ Notes: I started this back when Wonwoo was enlisting, the idea just sort of came to me. I know the ending is a bit abrupt; I was kinda struggling with how to close it out but hopefully I did it some semblance of justice. (I may come back and tweak it a bit if the motivation strikes me lol.) It’s my first Non-Bangtan fic (cuz Wonwoo is a pretty special guy!), so please be gentle! I miss him and am counting the days until his return. This helped me miss him just a little bit less - hope it does the same for you! Enjoy! 🩵💎
P.S. Also please note that this is not beta-read at all. So if you see any mistakes...🤫🤐 (or you can tell me nicely 🥺👉👈)
You crack the eggs into the pan, the sizzle permeating the otherwise silent apartment. Taking a couple steps back to avoid the splatter, you take the opportunity to toss the shells in the garbage can at the end of the counter. You grimace to yourself, the smell of the eggs slightly off putting. The date on the carton had reassured you that they were safe, so you’d gone ahead and started cooking. They’d looked okay, and other than the smell, everything seemed fine. You told yourself you’d taste them and if they tasted off you’d throw them out, no harm no foul.
As you glance up, you spy your boyfriend stepping into the doorway, his glasses resting ever so slightly off kilter on the bridge of his nose, his hair sticking up every which way, still with his adorable bedhead. You smile softly at him, “Morning, baby.” You turn your attention back to the stove, flipping the eggs gently with the spatula. While you don’t hear him, you feel him approach you, humming a contended “Mmm….Missed you,” against the back of your neck, pressing his body up against you. “Need to have you.”
You smile, affectionately responding “You just had me last night. Three times if I remember correctly.” One of his hands finds its way under the soft cotton of your T shirt, skimming the waistband of your sleep shorts but going no further; instead coming to rest splayed out across your stomach. His other hand removes his glasses and tosses them carelessly on the counter before cupping your cheek, tilting your head back and to the side. “Yeah but that was last night. Can’t help it if I want you this morning too.” He murmurs just before he captures your mouth in a heated kiss.
You can feel his smirk against your lips as you whine and feebly grasp the wrist currently wrapped around your middle.
“Wonwoo…baby…the stove…” your protests are half-hearted.
“Turn it off,” he breathes against your lips, his hips rocking against you, rolling his morning wood against the cleft of your ass. You release his wrist and open your eyes long enough to break the kiss and fumble to turn off the stove. Wonwoo takes the opportunity to redirect his attention to your neck and that spot just behind your ear that makes your knees turn to absolute jelly. The minute you’re satisfied the safety hazard has been sufficiently dealt with, you murmur a whimpered “fuck” before turning around in his arms to face him. You pull back and push him backwards until he’s met with the kitchen island. Biting your lip in approval, you take a moment to admire the feast of a man before you: as usual, he’s opted to come out of the bedroom in just a black and white striped tank top and his grey thin sweatpants, the imprint of his erection clearly visible; you know he doesn’t have any boxers on underneath. You give the hem of his shirt an impatient tug and he quickly pulls it up over head and tosses it to the side with one hand. Your hands make their way up his chiseled abs, and you feel his sharp intake of breath as you continue further up to his sculpted pecs, your nails teasingly grazing his nipples. The height difference between the two of you prompts you to cup his face and pull him down to you for a kiss, meeting him partway as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes. He growls - actually growls - and grabs you by the hips, and before you realize what’s happening he’s spun you around and lifted you up effortlessly to sit on the counter. You gasp at the feeling of the cold granite under your bare thighs. This new position switches your roles, giving you a slight advantage over him height-wise as he recaptures your lips in an impassioned kiss. One hand grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you closer, prompting you to wrap your legs around him. His other hand snakes under your t-shirt, cupping at your breast, his deft fingers flicking and twisting your nipple. You break the kiss with a gasp, burying your fingers in his unkempt hair. His name escapes your lips as a whispered prayer; a plea although you’re not even sure yourself what you want, only that you need more. He takes advantage of the moment to help you tug your shirt off before leaning down to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue flicking the nipple, tugging on it before releasing it with a soft pop. His eyes flit up to yours with a playful smirk as he blows on it, the cool air across your wet nipple causing you to shiver right before he recaptures it with his fingers while redirecting his mouth to give similar attention to the other breast. You reach a hand down, sliding it underneath the waistband of his sweatpants only to find him hard and ready. He hisses against your skin as you gather the precum at the tip, using it to help you stroke him slowly and firmly.
A shrill melody jolts you both of your lustful stupor, the ringtone echoing through the kitchen. “Fuck,” you whine, glancing over at your phone where it sits taunting you on the counter, just out of reach.
“Ignore it,” Wonwoo’s deep velvety voice rumbles against your skin as he hastily resumes his mistrations on your breasts, his hips rutting into your hand.
You groan in frustration - you’re trying to do as he ordered, but it’s your god forsaken Microsoft Teams ringtone which can only mean one thing: It’s work. And it’s all but killed the mood for you.
He can tell your attention has been diverted and reluctantly ceases his kisses, resting his forehead against your chest. “Fine,” he huffs, his voice heavy with disappointment. “But make it quick.”
You wiggle out from under him and stretch across the countertop, grasping your phone and seeing your coworker’s name on the display. You manage to control your breath as you answer with your ‘professional’ voice “Hello, this is Y/N.”
“Oh thank God,” your colleague sounds frazzled. “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know it’s outside of working hours for you but the file that management needs for their presentation this morning to the shareholders seems to have been corrupted. Please tell me you have a backup copy.”
You pull your phone away from your face long enough to glance at the time and then put it back to your ear, frowning. “Isn’t that meeting in like 30 minutes?”
“Exactly!” They sound close to tears. “We only had the one version but I know you were working on it. Please tell me you have a backup copy somewhere.”
With the way your body is twisted on the counter because of how you reached your phone, your hips are currently the most easily accessible part of your body for Wonwoo and so that is where he focuses his attention, his mouth pressing warm, soft kisses on your skin. You squirm in his grasp but he holds you firmly in place.
Somehow you manage to reply to your teammate with a steady voice: “I think I do; let me find it. I should be able to get it to you in like 10 minutes.” After a few more reassurances, you end the call and turn to Wonwoo, the expression on your face apologetic. “Baby…”
He sighs, again resting his forehead on your hips. “I know, I know.” Leaving one last kiss on your pelvic bone, he helps you up and you both get dressed. His mouth finds yours, kissing you tenderly. “I’ll finish up breakfast - go do what you’ve gotta do”.
“You sure?” you eye him suspiciously. “Last time I left you in the kitchen you nearly burned down the building because you forgot to add water to the dumplings.”
“Aish!!” he feigns indignation and pinches your side playfully. “That was one time!!” You squeal and slip out of his grasp, still giggling as you head to the study where your work laptop sits. As you log in and start working on the presentation for your colleague, you feel that familiar pang of guilt tugging in your chest, this routine all too familiar. Things have gotten so busy lately - between his work, your work, deadlines, not to mention his impending enlistment. You struggle to push those thoughts to the side and focus on the task at hand, but you know it’s still there. Brewing. Festering. Hanging over your heads like the sword of Damocles. 18 months of separation.
You sigh as you convert the text to bullet points and decrease the font size to match the rest of the template. You hadn’t lied when you told your coworker you had a backup copy of the file - it was just a previous iteration so there were a few tweaks and formatting changes that needed to be incorporated before the presentation could be sent. Not a big deal, but again - enough to take away from your limited time with Wonwoo. A soft knock on the door calls your attention just as you are putting the finishing touches on your email; you hit send and smile when you see your boyfriend standing there, a plate of what appears to be scrambled eggs…and was that black square next to it meant to be toast? A smoky slightly charred scent wafts through the room. Wonwoo smiles nervously. “I thought you might be hungry?” His voice lilts at the end, more of a question than a statement.
You glance at the plate apprehensively. Another wave of the burnt aroma catches your nose and you feel bile rise in your throat. As your face flushes, a warm clamminess envelopes your body and you bring your hand to your mouth, sprinting past Wonwoo to the bathroom across the hall in anticipation of what you know is about to happen. Falling to your knees in front of the toilet you barely have time to lift the toilet seat before you are heaving the contents of last night’s dinner into the bowl.
“Shit”, Wonwoo’s voice sounds far away; blood rushes to your head as your stomach clenches again and again, violently rejecting what little food is now left in your system. Soon it’s just dry heaving; your stomach has nothing more to give.
“Hey,” Wonwoo’s voice is closer now, and you feel his hand gently rub your back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.” Closing your eyes tightly, you force yourself to take slow, deep calming breaths. Your hand reaches up shakily, finding the handle and flushing the toilet with a sound that seems unnecessarily loud in the moment. His fingers find your hair, stroking it gently away from your face. He helps you get to your feet slowly, supporting your arm and grabs a cup from the counter, filling it with cool water. “Here”, he raises the cup to your lips. “Rinse.” You take a small sip, swishing it around gently before leaning over to spit in the sink. After a couple more rounds you do indeed feel a bit better. You turn on the tap to rinse the sink before switching it off again and turn to Wonwoo with a feeble nod. “I think I’m okay.” You manage to get out.
He carefully walks with you back to the bedroom. “If you didn’t like my cooking you could’ve just said so. Didn’t have to be so dramatic about it.” He mutters with a playful smirk.
You snort-laugh and smack his chest weakly. “Haha - very funny” you deadpan. “I dunno, my stomach’s just weird today. Maybe it’s the eggs - I thought they smelled a bit funny as I was preparing them but I checked - they’re not expired or anything.”
“Hmmm…maybe call in and just take it easy today. If you’re still feeling bad in the evening we can call the doctor.” He helped you into bed, tucking you in. “I’ll go bring some water for you. Do you feel up to eating anything?”
You roll onto your side, bringing your knees up and tucking a hand under your pillow. “Maybe some plain yogurt? I think that’s supposed to help. Pretty sure we have some in the fridge.” He nods and gently kisses your forehead before he gets up to go.
“Oh, baby,” you call. He turns back to you. “Can you also bring my phone?” His eyes narrow in mock suspicion. “I promise I won’t work, it’s just so I can let them know I won’t be coming in. And so that if you call or text I can reply.”
“Ooh-kaaay,” he draws out. “If you say so. But I’ll be watching you!” He brings his pointer and middle fingers to his eyes, then points them at you, repeating the patterned gesture a few times. You giggle and hold up three fingers: Scout’s honor.
When you next open your eyes, the apartment is quiet - too quiet. You move slowly, extricating yourself from the blankets. Your stomach is feeling better - if anything, it’s a bit grumbly from being empty. Glancing at your phone, you note that it’s well after noon. You spy a small bowl of yogurt with a spoon next to it, along with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water, the condensation on it dripping into a misshapen puddle on your nightstand. You smile, endeared by your boyfriend’s absent-mindedness as you grab a coaster from the drawer and slip it under the bottle, quickly wiping up the moisture on the table with a tissue. He’s always been so caring and thoughtful enough to take care of you in your time of need that despite how often you’ve reminded him, you can’t stay mad at him for something as little as forgetting to use a coaster.
Taking your phone in one hand and the yogurt and spoon in the other, you make your way into the kitchen. “Wonwoo?” you call, only to be greeted by silence. The kitchen is empty - dishes and pans washed and put away. As much of a hazard that Wonwoo is with the cooking aspect of kitchen tasks, you know you can always rely on him for clean-up duty. A piece of paper on the kitchen table catches your attention - you pick it up.
Baby,
Hope you are feeling better. Had to go into the office - company doctor appt for pre-enlistment physical. Text me when you’re up.
Yours always,
Wonwoo
PS - NO WORKING!!!
Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head. He knows you so well; the next thing you were about to do was open your work email to see what fires might need to be put out. Resisting the urge, you instead opened up your messages app and text Wonwoo to let him know you’re up. He replies almost immediately.
W: Did you have some water? Yogurt? How are you feeling?
Y: Better. Didn’t have water, just started having some yogurt. How’d the doctor visit go?
W: Still going. Mental eval done. Gastro done. Waiting on Cardiologist. I’ve never been to so many doctors in one day in my life.
Y: At least they’re efficient. Hopefully you don’t have to wait too long.
W: True.
W: You sure you’re feeling better? How’s your stomach?
You pause - at this point while you’ve been texting him you’ve had a few spoons of yogurt - so far, so good. Stomach seems to be cooperating.
Y: good. Keeping the yogurt down. Maybe it was the eggs? Did you feel okay after eating them?
W: I….
W: actually didn’t eat them
W: *peeking emoji*
Y: JEON WONWOO
W: I got nervous and got a pastry from the coffee shop here at work before I came up. IM SORRY
Y: As long as you ate something
W: I just got nervous after you got sick
Y: So I was your guinea pig
W: baby NO
Y: I’m just teasing lol
Y: I get it
W: srry baby I gotta go - I’m up. Finish your yogurt and get some rest. I’ll check in on you after. Love you
Y: love you too 😘
No sooner had you hung up the phone than you feel your stomach start to rumble once again - what the actual FUCK?? You dart from your seat so fast you barely register the spoon clattering to the floor; once again you barely make it to the bathroom in time, the little yogurt that you’ve consumed forcing its way back up your throat. You groan in frustration, your elbow on the rim of the bowl, fingers raking through your hair. This fucking SUCKS. Your stomach hurts from clenching and heaving, your throat is scratchy, and you’re fucking exhausted. Maybe you should be the one seeing a doctor instead of your boyfriend. Hell, maybe you should go and see if your boyfriend’s doctor can squeeze you in.
You laugh mirthlessly at your own pathetic attempt at humor, but then your mind starts whirling with possibilities, potential triggers…what could be causing this? You get to your feet slowly and rinse your mouth once again. As you splash water on your face, you think back, reviewing all the food you’ve eaten in the last 24 hours. Nothing unusual, nothing appeared to have gone bad…well, except for those eggs that smelled a little off - and truth be told you didn’t even eat them! And Wonwoo ate mostly the same things you did and he was fine. No fever as far as you could tell, so it wasn’t an infection or anything. So if it wasn’t food poisoning and it wasn’t an infection, then -
Another possibility hits you so suddenly you freeze. Your mind starts doing the math in your head. Nearly March now, February, it’s been at least 6 weeks…no…that can’t be right…can it?? You quickly dry your face and make your way back to the kitchen to check your phone, muttering to yourself “January…nothing in Feb…did I just forget to …” A different kind of warmth creeps under your skin. Not nausea this time…fear. “No no no…” You can feel yourself starting to spiral. This isn’t good. This is really not good. You lean your palms on the table and force yourself to take deep breaths. There’s no reason to panic…not yet…not until you’ve confirmed it.
Your phone dings with a text message notification the moment you unlock the door to re-enter your apartment. Juggling your keys and the plastic bag in your hand, you manage to dig out your mobile from your purse and notice it’s none other than your boyfriend. Willing yourself to calm down and give nothing away, you remind yourself that there’s no reason to worry him with the news until you can confirm it. No sense in creating unnecessary panic.
W: How are you feeling?
Well, considering you haven’t thrown up since before you stepped out, that's a good sign, but then again, you also haven’t eaten anything since then, so…
Y: Better. Went out to get some ginger ale - I read that should help.
It was half true - you had picked up ginger ale…along with some other items.
W: BABE
W: You should be resting
W: I would have picked it up for you.
Y: It’s fine. I needed to get out
Y: How’d the appointment go?
W: All good. Cardio docs made me do a stress test. I had to run. On a TREADMILL.
Y: Ew
W: Ew
W: Just the ENT left and then I think we’re done.
W: Company might have me stick around to record some post-enlistment content though. I’m not sure if I’ll be home for dinner.
W: Will you be okay to manage on your own?
Y: I’ll be fine, I promise. Don’t work too hard. I love you.
W: Love you too baby
Putting your phone down, you take a deep breath and dump the contents of the plastic bag onto the kitchen counter. One ginger ale? Check. Just as you’d told Wonwoo. The other four items? All different brands of pregnancy tests. You spread them out on the table, organize them in a line.
Popping the tab on the soda can, you take a swig, feeling the cool fizz make its way down your throat, the spiciness of the ginger giving just the right amount of kick and bringing you a renewed burst of energy.
You can do this.
You got this.
Whatever happens, you’ll figure this out.
A voice creeps up in the back of your mind as you take another sip of your soda. But he’s leaving. Less than a month, and he’s going to be gone for 18 whole months. If this test is positive, he’s going to be gone for the entire pregnancy. He’ll be gone for the first nine months of this baby’s life.
You shake your head, reminding yourself that once again, there’s no point in stressing about something when you’re not even sure if there’s anything to stress about. First things first, let’s see what the test says. And then…well…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
Decisively taking another sip of your soda, you grimace at the tickle of fizz in your mouth and then gather the pregnancy tests in your hands, heading towards the bathroom in the hall.
Once inside, you open the first box and begin reviewing the instructions.
Four tests saying the same thing couldn't be wrong…right?
Bracing yourself against the counter with your hands you take a deep breath in, forcing yourself not to pass out. You’d bypassed the stage of wondering what Wonwoo would say and were now spiraling down the rabbit hole of ‘what would YOU do’? Regardless of his response, you would soon be all by yourself. Going through pregnancy by yourself, raising a baby by yourself for the first 9 months of their life…how was that even going to work??
“Babe?”
You turn to the closed bathroom door with a start - you hadn’t even heard the front door open, but you sure as shit heard it close as Wonwoo’s steps proceed to make their way through the apartment.
What the hell?? He said he wasn’t supposed to be home until late? Your face flushed, palms sweaty, you sweep the tests off the counter with a swish of your arm and collect them in the garbage pail next to the toilet. Crumpling a few tissues you toss them on top for good measure, hoping it was enough to hide the tests. You shove the empty boxes and pamphlets into the cabinet under the sink and take one last look around the bathroom. Satisfied that the evidence was sufficiently hidden, you flush the toilet for good measure and splash some water on your face before exiting the bathroom - and running straight into his chest.
“Jesus!” you gasp. “You scared me!”
“Sorry….Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay,” your brows furrow as you continue, “I thought you still had appointments.”
“The ENT double booked so I said I’d come in tomorrow.” he shrugs, then gently wraps an arm around you. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”
Wonwoo sighed. He normally wasn’t one to worry, but with the way you had been feeling lately…it was hard to shake. Especially given the fact that he was going to be leaving in less than a month.
After making sure you were asleep, Wonwoo stepped into the master bath, quietly closing the door behind him. Leaning on the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and took a deep breath. The mental flurry of activity going through his head right now was one that had been plaguing him for weeks now.
He knew things had been tough the past few months but he was sure it was just the fact that his enlistment was right around the corner. He had been so busy completing recordings and songs to be released in his absence, filming content for videos that would help satiate his fans while he was away. Your company, on the other hand, was in the middle of some new acquisitions and you had been swamped with various viability studies and strategic proposals. Finding time to truly focus on each other was proving challenging, to say the least. And now it appeared right before he was slated to leave, you were coming down with something? He sighed - hopefully it was just one of those 24 hr stomach bugs that was going around.
Wonwoo quickly brushed his teeth and completed his evening skincare routine before switching off the bathroom light to head back to the bedroom. He noticed the can of soda on the nightstand, and grabbed that along with his coffee mug from the morning to take to the kitchen. He made quick work of the few dishes in the sink as well as the coffee mug from earlier and carefully dried and put everything away. Turning to hang up the towel on the rack, he noticed a piece of paper on the counter; just as he was about to toss it into the garbage, his eyes latched onto a series of words that made him freeze in his tracks. The towel lay damp and forgotten on the counter as Wonwoo raised the CU receipt to take a closer look.
First Response
Clearblue
Earlycheck
Surearly
Four different brands.
And he knew damn well what they were all for.
His hands trembled, his mouth dry. Realization dawned on him, and he glanced at the garbage for a beat before digging through the top layer, not caring how dirty his hands might be getting. Abandoning the receipt in the trash, he paused for a moment as a thought struck him.
Heading back towards you, he made it to the bathroom and no sooner had he brushed away the top layer of tissues in the bin, he spotted the assortment of used tests staring back at him from inside the bin. He stood there, his chest heaving from nerves and anxiety. The one on top had a bold and definitive “Pregnant”, loud and clear on the display. The one behind it, he could see two lines. And yet another one, a very simple but unquestionable: “Yes”. He sank to his knees, his head leaning against the sink cabinet. “Fuck.” he whispered. This explained why you had been feeling under the weather today. How long had this even been going on? How long had you been bottling this in?
He knew you’d both tried to be as careful as you could, but with as many quick rendezvous that you’d had the last few months, there were inevitably a few times when condoms just hadn’t been possible. And now - now he would be leaving in less than a month and you’d be here. By yourself. With a baby. Your baby. HIS baby.
Oh god - you were carrying HIS BABY. His mind swirled a hundred miles a minute. Pulling himself to a standing position, he quickly washed his hands as his thoughts flew through his mind. What was he going to do? What could he do? Should he defer? Postpone? Just go as usual? But you’d be by yourself. His heart ached and for a fleeting moment, the thought came to him - if his mom were here he’d know what to do for you. He could ask his dad, he supposed. Or halmeoni. She loved you and he knew full well the feeling was mutual. She could help.
He slipped quietly back into the bedroom, watching your slow even breathing, your face the epitome of calm. The bed shifted slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you. You stirred in your sleep, your brows furrowed momentarily before a soft sigh escaped your lips and a peaceful expression crossed your face once again. His fingers traced lightly against your temples, gently stroking your hair before he leaned down and planted a soft kiss there. In that moment, his next steps could not have been clearer. He was in this with you for the long haul. He could feel his eyes misting up. It was early, that much he knew - but tomorrow, he’d go with you to the doctor to confirm it - hell, he’d take you to the company doctor if your regular doctor couldn’t fit you in. And then once you gave your okay, he’d tell his father and his halmeoni so that they could help you while he was away. He’d call you as often as he could while he was gone, and he wouldn’t waste a single vacation day. If you could plan your checkups around his leave, you could try to schedule them that way but if not, he’d make do and call as soon as he could for updates. And the birth - oh god, he hoped to GOD he’d be able to be here for the birth but he could always make sure halmeoni was with you - there was no way he was leaving you without some sort of support system in place.
Wonwoo wiped his eyes - when had those tears escaped? - and with a determined sigh, he got up to grab his laptop before settling into bed next to you. With the lights off, room illuminated by the websites that popped up on his computer screen, he opened up a Notes page and started reading and jotting down everything he could find on pregnancy: what to expect, what to cook (though he’d leave the actual execution of that to halmeoni), tips and tricks to help you feel better for the duration of your pregnancy, and bcompiled a list of all the items he’d need to stock up on and other preparations he’d need to make for you and the baby before he left.
A faint melody played quietly, and as you open your eyes and adjust to the sunlight dancing in soft ripples through the window, you turn to find your sweet boyfriend slumped against the pillow next to you, headphones on, glasses askew, his mouth slightly agape, soft baritone snores slipping from his lips as his laptop rested haphazardly on his lap. You smile to yourself, and pull yourself up to a sitting position as you reach over to gently remove his glasses and place them on the nightstand. You go to reach for his headphones next, wondering what song was playing and still as you noticed the video and content on his screen.
A video of popular children’s nursery rhymes is playing on the screen, and behind it, a number of other tabs, among which were “Common Pregnancy Cravings”, “What to Expect When-”, and “Prenatal Care” The one that really catches your attention simply says: “Baby Jeon”. Your curiosity piqued, you carefully move the laptop from his lap over to yours and click on that last tab.
A Google doc pops up - and with every line you feel the weight in your chest get lighter and lighter.
Wonwoo stirs softly beside you; groaning at the awkwardness of his sleeping position. You turn to look at him as he slowly awakens, his eyes finding yours, then flitting down to the laptop open in front of you. He raises his gaze back to meet yours, hesitating for a beat before he asks the question on his mind. “You only found out yesterday?” It's not accusatory - just concern.
You nodded, “Yeah. I was going to make an appointment with the doctor this week to be sure, but I’m guessing four tests can’t all be wrong.” You laugh weakly. “I’m sorry - I know the timing sucks.”
“Why are you sorry,” he closed the laptop and moved it off to the side before taking your hands in his. “It’s not like you did this by yourself. We did this together, we’ll face it together.” He brought your entwined hands up to his chest. “We always knew we wanted to start a family together, we just didn’t expect it to happen this soon.” he smiles, a little shy but wholly reassuring, kissing your hands. “But it’s okay - I’ve got a plan.”
You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully in the direction of his computer. “I saw your plan.”
“It’s a good plan.” He pouts.
“It’s an ambitious plan.”
“It’s OUR plan.” He raises your fingers to his lips, kissing them softly, before capturing your lips with his own.
You let yourself melt into his kiss, reassurance blanketing you in the confidence that this is most definitely the start of something undeniably beautiful.
warnings: Major character death,angst,emotional abuse,emotional manipulation,canon-typical language,canon-typical references to violence and hunting,no explicit sexual content,no graphic violence.
summary: A failed hunt pushes weeks of buried resentment to the breaking point. Dean's anger turns into cruel words that can never be taken back.
BEFORE READING. PLEASE DON'T THROW TOMATOES AT ME AT THE END. :D
The woods were suffocating, choked with damp rot and the heavy, lingering ghosts of a trail that had gone completely, utterly cold.
Ever since the mess in Illinois—ever since that suffocating night in the motel room where everything unspoken between you and Dean had finally cracked wide open—the air in the Impala had felt like unexploded ordnance. For three weeks, Dean had used every roadside diner, every gas station mini-mart, and every cheap motel front desk as his personal battlefield. Every wink to a waitress, every phone number tucked into his leather jacket pocket, every lazy, performative smirk thrown at a stranger was a carefully aimed missile meant to land squarely on your chest.
And now, the forest had given them nothing. No bones. No sulfur. No tracks. Just six straight hours of wet boots, mosquito bites, tearing through briars, and slamming into another dead end.
The sun was already sinking behind the dense canopy of pine trees, casting long, bleeding shadows over the moss, when Dean kicked a rotten log hard enough to split it in half, sending wet wood pulp showering over his boots.
"Fantastic," he barked, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving under his canvas jacket. "Another whole damn day wasted in the middle of nowhere."
Sam rubbed a hand over his face, his tall frame hunched under the weight of his duffel bag, his eyes tired and bloodshot. "We'll regroup, Dean. Go back to the motel, go over the lore again—"
"We've been regrouping for three weeks, Sam!" Dean snapped, spinning on his heel, his voice sharp enough to echo off the ancient trees. "Every lead we pull is garbage. Every map is a bust."
Nobody answered.
The heavy, dead silence that settled over the clearing only irritated Dean more. It was the exact same silence that had followed them across three state lines. It was the silence of two people who used to be able to read each other's minds now standing ten feet apart, pretending they were strangers.
Dean turned toward you, his green eyes burning with a desperate, bitter fire, his jaw locked tight.
"You were the one who said this trail made sense," he said, pointing a calloused finger in your direction. "You were the one who swore the victim timeline pointed right to these woods."
You didn't look up right away. You kept your attention fixed on the screen of the EMF meter in your hands, watching the red LED lights flicker down to absolute, flatline zero.
"It did make sense," you said, your voice low and flat.
"Really?" Dean challenged, taking a heavy step toward you, his boots crunching sharply on dry twigs. "You call this making sense?"
"Yes."
Dean laughed once. A short, sharp, humorless sound that rattled in his throat. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it got us absolutely nowhere. Just another wild goose chase."
Sam immediately stepped between the two of you, holding a hand up in warning. "Dean, back off. We all agreed on the location—"
"No, I'm asking." Dean shoved past Sam's shoulder, closing the remaining distance until he was towering near you, radiating heat, anger, and sheer, exhausted desperation. "What exactly was the brilliant plan here? Walk until our feet bleed?"
You finally shut the meter off with a crisp, decisive click, looking up to meet his glare. Your eyes were dangerously level. "We investigate. We follow the evidence. Like we always do."
"And if there isn't anything?"
"Then we pivot and we move to another lead."
"So... waste everyone's time," Dean sneered. "Keep us running in circles while you figure out which way is up."
Your patience finally cracked, the thin, fragile layer of ice holding you together over the past three weeks splitting right down the middle. "It didn't work out, Dean! That happens on a hunt!"
"It failed," he barked back.
"There's a difference between a bad lead and a failure!"
Dean scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter, condescending tilt of his chin. "Not to me there isn't."
Sam let out a long, suffering exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Guys, come on, please. We're all exhausted. Let me just call Bobby—"
"You've been doing this for three straight weeks," you cut in, your voice dropping, your gaze locked onto Dean’s face like a vice.
Dean’s expression hardened, his jaw working violently as the muscle beneath his ear twitched. "Doing what?"
"Picking fights," you said, stepping right up into his space, refusing to back down an inch. "Pushing everybody until they break. Looking for any excuse to throw a tantrum."
"I am not picking fights!"
"You are!" you shouted, the raw, built-up frustration finally bursting through your teeth. "You've been doing it since Illinois! You pick a fight over the map, you pick a fight over the coffee, you flirt shamelessly with every waitress, every cashier, every bartender the second we pull up to a curb—"
"That's got nothing to do with the damn hunt!" Dean roared, his face flushing dark.
"It has everything to do with this!" you screamed back. "You're acting like a child because you can't handle your own head!"
Dean laughed again, louder this time, throwing his hands up into the damp forest air before shoving them violently into his jacket pockets. "Seriously? Seriously?" His green eyes flashed with a cold, territorial, venomous rage. "So that's what this whole mood is about? That's what's getting your dynamic all twisted up?"
You stared at him, your hands trembling slightly where you held your gear, your chest heaving. "I don't care who you flirt with, Dean. I don't care if you get ten numbers a day."
"Right."
"I don't."
"Sure you don't."
"I said I don't!"
Dean's jaw flexed. All the buried hurt, the humiliation of your rejection back in the diner, the agonizing weight of the wall he’d been trying so hard to build between you—all of it finally snapped. The poison that had been brewing inside him since the moment you drew a line in the sand came pouring out.
"Then stop acting like you're entitled to an opinion!" Dean screamed into your face.
Silence slammed down over the woods like a dropped iron curtain. Even the wind rustling through the pines seemed to die instantly. Sam went completely rigid behind his brother.
Dean didn't stop. He took another step forward, crowding you, his voice dropping from a yell into a razor-thin, poison-laced whisper that cut deeper than any blade.
"You wanted boundaries back in that diner," he sneered, tossing your own words from weeks ago back into your face like a fistful of glass. "You made it real clear where I stood. You wanted me to back off? You wanted me to stop? I stopped."
Every word hit like a physical blow, cold, agonizingly precise, and deliberate.
"So don't stand there looking wounded now because I moved on," Dean snarled, his eyes dark as pitch.
You felt something deep inside your chest—the very last, fragile thread holding you to Dean Winchester and this endless, brutal life—snap and fold in on itself.
Sam took a heavy, urgent step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "Dean. That's enough. Shut your mouth right now."
But Dean was completely blind, weaponizing his own pain to make sure yours hurt just as bad, desperate to prove that he held the power, that he hadn't been wrecked by what happened between you.
"You don't get to reject somebody, throw 'em away, and then expect them to sit around waiting for you in the backseat like a loyal little dog," Dean said, his voice flattening into something terrifyingly cruel. "If somebody actually wants me... if some girl in a bar actually looks at me without a list of grievances... I'm not gonna apologize for choosing the person who doesn't treat me like some massive, giant mistake."
The words hung in the freezing, damp air between the trees. Heavy. Toxic. Irreversible.
You didn't answer.
Dean stood his ground, his broad shoulders rigid, his breathing ragged, waiting for the impact. He expected you to snap back. He expected anger. He expected yelling. He expected you to grab his leather jacket, to scream at him, to fight him the way you always fought when the two of you collided.
Instead...
You simply looked at him. Really, truly looked at him.
And for the first time since you had met Dean Winchester, he saw absolutely nothing behind your eyes. No hurt. No rage. No fire. Just a vast, hollow expanse of total, freezing clarity.
Without a single word, you bent down and picked up your shotgun from where it rested against a damp log. You unslung the strap, laying the weapon carefully at Sam's feet. Next came the knife in your boot, then the sidearm clipped to your waist, and finally, with slow, unhurried fingers, you unclipped the fake metal FBI badge from the lapel of your jacket.
You walked past Dean as if he were made of smoke, stepping up to Sam. You pressed the leather badge wallet and your car keys into his large, calloused palm.
Sam looked down at his hand, his heart dropping straight into his stomach, his hazel eyes wide with genuine horror. "...What are you doing?"
You never looked back at Dean. You didn't even tilt your head in his direction. Your voice was flat, hollow, and frighteningly calm—a whisper soft enough to make the skin on the back of Sam's neck prickle.
"I'm done, Sam."
"Wait—no," Sam pleaded, his voice cracking as he reached out, touching your arm. "Don't do this. He's an idiot, he doesn't mean—"
"I'm not doing this for him," you said gently, cutting Sam off with a quiet, sad smile. "I'm doing it for me. I'm done with the hunt. I'm done with the backseat. I'm done."
You turned on your heel and started walking.
Past Dean's frozen form, past the shadow of the ancient pines, stepping onto the overgrown dirt trail heading toward the highway where a local gas station stood a mile down the road.
Dean blinked, taking an instinctual, jerky step after you, his voice suddenly stripped of all its venom, sounding small and hollow. "...Hey. Hey, wait a minute."
No response. Just the quiet, steady crunch of your boots on the wet earth.
"You can't just quit!" Dean yelled, but his voice cracked down the middle, panic bleeding through the edges. "You can't just walk off a case!"
Still nothing. You didn't slow your pace. You didn't look back. You didn't hesitate. You just kept walking until the thick shadows of the forest swallowed your silhouette whole.
Sam watched the spot where you disappeared, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, before turning slowly to face his brother. The frustration was completely gone from Sam's face, replaced entirely by a heavy, horrifying pity.
"What the hell did you just do, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice barely audible over the rising wind.
Dean swallowed hard. The hot, blinding rush of his defensive rage was already completely gone, leaving behind a cold, sickening pool of terror that flooded his throat and made it impossible to draw air.
"I..." Dean started, staring wide-eyed at the empty path, his hands trembling in his pockets. "...She'll come back. She's got no ride. She's just pissed."
Well turns out,
she will be gone for long..
Too long.
The cemetery was silent.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that settled into your lungs and refused to leave.
Late autumn had stripped most of the trees bare. A cold wind wandered between the rows of weathered headstones, carrying brittle leaves across the damp grass. Gray clouds hung low enough to swallow the horizon whole.
Dean stood alone.
His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his old leather jacket. The same jacket he'd been wearing that day in the woods.
It still fit.
Somehow it felt heavier.
He hadn't moved in almost twenty minutes.
He just stared.
At your name.
At the dates carved beneath it.
At the flowers someone else had left before him.
His jaw worked once.
Twice.
His throat refused to cooperate.
There had been a thousand speeches on the drive over.
A thousand apologies.
A thousand explanations.
Not one of them mattered now.
The wind stirred again.
Dean finally crouched, brushing a few dead leaves away from the base of the headstone with slow, shaking fingers.
Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.
Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.
Word count: 2.9k
A/N: This is a dark fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! men & minors dni.
Beta read by @poulengp <3
——
It started off small.
All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.
Then it got weirder.
Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.
As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?
"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."
Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!
"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.
"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.
You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."
—
As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.
You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.
Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.
When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.
Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.
It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.
It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.
"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.
Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.
You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.
You: Who the fuck is this?
There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.
You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.
So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.
—
The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.
The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.
You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.
It was Erin.
You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.
—
"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."
You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.
"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.
"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.
It wasn't there.
"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.
"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.
But no, the messages had vanished.
"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."
"But—"
"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."
Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.
—
Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.
The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..
Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.
Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.
This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.
You: I'm not scared of you.
It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..
Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.
Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.
Fuck! Fuck!
You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!
Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.
Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.
Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.
Until the silence was broken.
"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."
The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.
"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."
The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.
"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.
"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.
"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.
"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?
"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.
"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it
Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"
The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.
—
The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—
Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.
The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.
You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.
"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.
"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.
She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..
No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?
The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."
Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.
"Fuck!"
Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.
"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."
Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.
"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.
"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.
"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.
Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.
"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.
"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.
You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.
The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.
cw — talks of a breakup, both cry, fluff, kissing, angst, implied sex
summary — after a few months, you finally decide to talk with jj one on one.
a/n — idk why jj just popped back up into my mind but i wrote this in like 20 minutes so excuse me if its garbage. please request though!!!
do not copy or post my work anywhere else.
it’d been months of tense hangouts with the pogues, months of jj moping around, and months of your friends begging you to just talk to him. you’d tried multiple times but he was stubborn. every conversation somehow ended with you two back to the same topic of your past relationship.
it wasn’t that you didn’t love jj anymore, you were sure part of you always would. he was your first boyfriend, first love, first kiss, first time, first everything. he’d always have part of your heart. he was the one who taught you real love.
but there was that saying that went “you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself,” which couldn’t be more true. you couldn’t pin why or when it started, but you slowly started to lose yourself. your mental health began slipping, you hated looking in the mirror, and you wanted to do nothing else but rot in bed.
in turn, you started pulling away from jj which only hurt him more than you knew. it broke your heart, and it broke even more to have to break up with him. but you couldn’t just string him along when you knew you weren’t in the right state to be in a relationship.
after you’d done it, the two of you took a break from the pogues in fear you’d have to see the other. in the early months, it felt like you’d never get over him and the thought of having to see him only made your heart ache more. thankfully, you still had sarah and kiara to keep you company while he had pope and john b.
after a while, you both began hanging with the group as a whole. it was always tense and awkward but you still tried to enjoy it and not make it weird for your friends. on the odd chance that you were alone with him, he’d always bring up your relationship and ask where it went wrong.
once he’d received no real answer the last ten times, he just stopped asking. he had realized maybe it was better that he didn’t know. he’d heard rumors of you messing with other guys and he wasn’t sure he could take it if he found out you were truly with someone else.
this all brought you here at the chateau with your friends. you all were sat on the porch, besides jj who was sat in the hammock with a can of beer in his hand. you were completely zoned out and definitely not listening to the argument between john b and kiara about micro plastics.
you sighed and took a sip out of your bottle of water before getting up to use the bathroom. “be right back,” you told the others as you stood and opened the front door to go inside. you toed past the small piles of clothes on the floor and picked up some empty cans on the way to throw out.
you headed into the bathroom and turned on the sink, pressing some cold water on your skin to cool off before washing your hands and looking at yourself in the mirror. you chewed your lip anxiously as you just stared.
you had to have been in there for a few minutes, maybe five if you had to guess. then there was a knock and the sound of kiaras voice. “we’re heading out to get some more beer. you want anything?” she asked, slightly muffled through the thick wood.
“no, i’m okay,” you replied quickly knowing you definitely didn’t need to be drinking heavily tonight. you heard her mumble a quick goodbye before her footsteps got louder and the sound of the front door echoed through the empty space. you dried your hands on the towel behind you then made your way back through the house.
you stepped outside onto the porch, freezing when you were met with jj. “thought you went with them,” he said awkwardly after clearing his throat. his body stiffened and his hands fidgeted with one another.
“uh, no,” you stammered just as awkwardly. “i was in the bathroom.” you didn’t even know why you said that. he didn’t need to know that and he probably didn’t care either.
he shook his empty can in his right hand. “we’re out of beer,” he explained almost as if he were letting you know why he was up on the porch in front of you. the last thing he needed you thinking was that he was some weird stalker.
you nodded. “i heard,” you said and stepped aside to allow him to walk past you and into the house. he quickly walked inside and to the fridge in search of something. “are you okay?” you blurted out as you followed him in even though you most likely knew the answer.
“fine. you?” he replied bluntly. he knew you weren’t stupid and he knew you were definitely onto him. he closed the fridge door and leaned against the kitchen counter to look at you.
you frowned slightly at his cold attitude. “i’m sorry, jj,” you said softly. “i’m sorry about the way i treated you.”
he bit the inside of his cheek and crossed his arms over his chest, looking off to the side for a second to gather his thoughts. “why’d you do it?”
you almost chose to play stupid for a second and ask what he meant but you’d had this conversation one too many times to not know what he meant. only this time, you intended to finish it. “i was scared,” you began timidly. “i wasn’t doing good and i was scared to hurt you.”
“but you did,” he replied just above a whisper. the air was thick with tension and the house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and every floorboard creak.
you pursed your lips into a thin line and nodded sadly. “i know. i thought breaking up would make it easier instead of dragging you down with me,” you said with the same softness in your voice as his. “but it didn’t and i hurt you. and i’m sorry for that.”
his eyes bored into yours, his once energetic, bright blue eyes now a more dull, tired shade. “why couldn’t you just talk to me about it? i coulda helped you.”
you could hear the shake in his voice. the conversations never really went this far, usually stopping the moment they started because you just couldn’t handle it. and here you were, beginning to choke up. “because i didn’t wanna bother you,” you stated.
“it wouldn’t have bothered me, you know that,” he said, uncrossing his arms and instead placing them behind him on the counter. “i woulda wanted you to talk to me if somethin’ was up. i coulda been there to help you or at least support you.”
you bit your lip nervously and looked down at your hands, now beginning to pick at your cuticles. “its hard to talk about,” you muttered. “i jus’ didn’t feel good about myself and i couldn’t put that on you.”
he let out a shaky breath. “i woulda done anything for you,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanted to be there for you.”
you heard the soft sob that slipped past his lips. the two of you were reopening old, unhealed wounds now and the unshed tears that had been pushed down for months were beginning to finally surface. you finally looked back up to his face, him already looking at you with tears in his eyes. “do you want a hug?” you asked gently.
when he didn’t reply, you took cautious steps toward him to give him an opportunity to back out before wrapping your arms around his neck. you immediately felt his arms lock around your waist tight and him crane down to bury his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.
his body shook with sobs as he cried into your t-shirt. it only made your heart break more and in turn, you felt tears finally fall down your cheeks. “i’m really fucking sorry jj,” you mumbled through your wobbling voice.
“it’s okay,” he sobbed, squeezing you a little tighter against him. “i forgive you. i forgave you months ago.”
you frowned and closed your eyes, just savoring the moment between you two. it felt like the world went silent for a moment. like it was just you two again. you missed this feeling and by the way he was clinging onto you, you assumed he did too.
you two stayed like that for another minute before he finally began to pull away slowly, still keeping his hands firmly holding your hips. your arms stayed linked around his neck with how close the two of you remained. “gimme one more chance,” he mumbled, his intense gaze staring right into you.
you closed your eyes and sighed. “jj—“
he cut you off. “please, sweetheart. i don’t want you to be alone. whatever you need, ’m here. i jus’ wanna be here for you.”
“you can’t fix me,” you replied honestly. “this is something i need to do on my own.”
he thought for a moment before nodding. “thats okay. you can do it alone. i’ll jus’ be here to support you.”
you felt your bottom lip wobble and your eyes burn with tears. you’d never really had someone like jj who stuck with you through your stubbornness, someone who continued offering help even when you consistently denied and subconsciously began to self sabotage. “i don’t wanna dump all my problems on you.”
he wiped the drop of liquid that ran down your cheek with his thumb before taking both your hands in his own. “don’t worry about that. just worry about you, ok? i got the rest.”
you shook your head. “that’s not fair to you, jj.” you leaned your forehead against his chest to hide your face when you felt more thick tears fall silently.
he brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head while the other intertwined your fingers. “if it means you’ll feel better, then i don’t care. i just wanna help you. trust me, ‘m gonna be fine.”
you immediately began to melt when you felt his hand play with your hair softly. you couldn’t say no to him, you never could. this was the man you were completely and utterly in love with and even after putting him through so much, he was still this soft with you. how could you just move on?
pulling away from his chest, his hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek, cradling it in his large palm. his thumb lightly traced your cheekbone as he searched your eyes for any negative signs, anything to tell him what he was about to do was wrong.
when he found absolutely nothing, he surged forward and pressed him lips to yours. you sighed into the kiss, months of longing and passion poured into one simple movement. his other hand moved from yours to your hip inside, squeezing lightly at it and pulling you closer so your body was pressed to his.
“fuck, i missed you,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slipping his tongue inside and moving his hand that was once on your cheek to your neck to gently press at the sides. you felt a little lightheaded at the action in the best ways possible.
the kiss was slow and passionate, something you’d missed so desperately about being with jj. he didn’t often rush things like this. he preferred to take his time and make you feel all woozy and worked up.
you could feel him begin to get slightly antsy, unsure of what to do with his hands. you chose to grab the one on your hip and slide it down lower. he instinctively brought the other one down as well and cupped your ass before laughing against your lips when you whimpered.
once the two of your finally needed to catch your breath, panting and mingling your breaths, he smiled cheekily. “how ‘bout we make up for lost time?”
you couldn’t help but return the same smile. “i think i like that idea.”
he wasted no time in grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you up, heading straight for the guest room he claimed as his own.
I need more people using Barbie as a nickname for this ancient, eldritch horror demon. Please. I just wanna give him baby girl treatment, everyone join me on my quest.
Barbatos x Gn!Reader! Required feelings, reader is thirsty as sin, that’s okay tho, cause so is Barbie hehehe rated T for laboured breathing and bad community theatre.
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Maybe it was out of fear for your safety, or maybe it was out of consideration for him, but never in a million years would you have imagined yourself carrying Barbatos bridal style, out of the demon king's castle. His lithe body curled into yours as you walk him carefully though the threshold, offering soft words of encouragement as you make the trip. The most powerful demon (arguably) in the devildom, wrapped around your neck and buried against your shoulder as he fights to control his breathing. The sensation of his soft shudders against your chest, the way his nails dig into your back, the way he pulls himself ever closer to you- all reminders that this was not your imagination at all.
Trying to keep yourself in check as you comfort your friend is proving difficult in its own right. Barbatos is mysterious, reliable, and so effortlessly perfect that you can't help but think about him often. He plagues your thoughts regularly, but seeing him like this, vulnerable and dependent on you is going to fuel your nights for years to come. It's difficult to rein in your own wild fantasies when you'd been the one to pick him up in his moment of weakness, but you make a valiant effort all the same. He needs you in this moment and you swallow down your own desires to focus on keeping the butler safe and out of harm’s way. Or, out of rat's way.
One of the little D's had decided that it would be easier to throw garbage into a 'compost hole' after you'd talked to them about responsible waste management. You'd, of course, never meant that as an easy way for the little guys to get lazy in their chores but clearly it had backfired all the same. The whole thing was only made worse when No.6 had asked you about taking responsibility and you'd insisted it was the right thing to do. How could you have known that he'd meant taking responsibility for the small rat colony that had built a home in the garden of the palace and had slowly begun infesting the house. In part, your willingness to care for Barbatos during his time of crisis is because you feel responsible. The other, much larger part, is your rampant desire for the man.
Dutifully, you carry the time demon back to the house of lamentation, glad for the short distance between the two estates. While you aren't weak, Barbatos is dense muscle and that makes carrying him long distances a bit taxing. Though, you decide in this moment that maybe you'd better work on getting stronger- How could you carry him home on your wedding day if you can hardly make the trip now when you're just saving his life? Putting away the fantasy a moment, you manage to get Barbatos through the threshold of the house but in hearing the racket from the shared spaces, you choose to bring him somewhere private so he can recalibrate himself before making an appearance.
Your bedroom is simply the best choice to grant him privacy and calm. As you lay him down on your bed and press your foreheads together, you insist that it's only meant to help ease his mind. You are his friend and confidant in the moment over all else. Everything you do is for his benefit- or you continue to tell yourself that when he doesn't release your neck and instead insists that you lay down beside him. "Your heartbeat is reassuring" and you take that comment like unholy testament as you scramble onto the mattress with him. His warmth is so close to you that you're not sure where your body ends and his begins and if it weren't for the fact that he was in distress, you'd be on cloud nine.
Unfortunately, he is in distress, and you're a good (enough) person that you can't just relish in the moment while he anguishes right next to you. Bringing a hand up to his shoulder, you try to soothe him with the soft circles and a firm pressure along his arm and back. He lets out soft and after a moment of complete silence, save for his breathing and your soft words, he manages to peel himself off the pillow and sit upright. There's the sound of rustling clothes as he adjusts himself, fixing his kerchief and smoothing out his coat before turning to face you with a soft, embarrassed expression. "My deepest apologies for my embarrassing behaviour." His words come out in their usual, even tone, but you can still hear the slight wobble in them. It makes your chest tight in the best way.
Sitting up yourself, you move to fill his eyeline. Despite his red face, he still offers you a practiced smile and a soft bow that you simply can't tolerate in this moment. He's being strong for his own pride, but you've just had a taste of his vulnerability and you want more- no, you want to ensure your friend isn't simply pretending to be alright (yeah, that works). Leaning in closer still, you place one of your hands on his chest and offer him another sweet smile. "Barbie, it's okay to rely on me in moments like this. I'm here for you, here to help." While he does seem to relax a little, his eyes look clearer now. The usual sharp, clever teal returns to him, and you mourn your little moment of bliss.
Barbatos stands from the bed, and you assume he's going to step out and organize an extermination with the brothers. He does not, however, go towards the door, but instead carefully removes his jacket and shoes, placing them by one of the chairs at the table in your room. He undoes his kerchief and then comes back to you, crawling onto the comforter and then laying himself where he'd been when you first placed him there. Your eyes wander helplessly along his elegant form, drinking in every curve and arch of his body but before you can say anything, ask any question about his wellbeing or actions, he tugs at your collar. "Forgive me, it seems I'm still in a state of unease" he says, with the easiest tone you've ever heard.
No further delays are needed though, he's made it clear he wants your attention, wants your considerations and you intend to provide. Laying back beside him, you bring an arm up to caress his shoulder and upper arm. This appears to be the wrong answer when Barbatos instead takes your hand, and scoots close enough to you that you’re forced to drape your arm over his side in a pseudo hug. Breaths overlapping, he lets his eyes flutter shut and leans into your warmth- the position equivocal to a cuddle. The position equivocal to your fantasies and absolutely making your head spin between the two of you and the dark of the room. When his eyes open, the teal nearly startles you against the dark and he speaks your name in a soft chuckle. "Thank you for taking care of me. I cannot imagine how I might have made it out of there, if not for your courage." the words ghost across your face, and you can smell every letter on his peppermint breath.
The distance between you two makes you loopy and you feel the way your body aches with his proximity. You try to flex your hands to keep yourself in control, but the action only reminds you how your arm falls across his side, feeling the texture of his expensive shirt. Fluttering beneath your own, your heart beats loud as a clock tower in your ears and you fight every urge to lean in and close the distance between your lips. When your foreheads meet, you realize you're losing the battle and jerk backwards like you've been burnt, your face red enough that you might have been. You expect Barbatos to chuckle or perhaps make an innocent comment about not having noticed. Instead, you hear the dissatisfied little huff before his eyes open back up to stare at you.
For as ancient and powerful as he is, your own novice behaviour is probably irritating to him. Here he is, trusting you with his anxiety and you just blink at him with your mouth hanging open because he's hot and laid out in front of you? Surely, you're better than this! You decide to prove that you are, so you lift yourself up on your elbow and put on your best concern before petting his hair the way you might pet Lukes. Barbatos is important to you, and you won't be disappointing him if you can help it. Except, when you look down into his eyes, your obvious shift in demeanour puts an unhappy expression on his face. You blink down at his straight line of a mouth and unimpressed eyes. Even his eyebrows press together slightly, and you feel yourself sweat a little as you contemplate what you did wrong. "Are... are you feeling better, Barbie?" You offer out in a parental tone.
"No. Truly I am plagued by my own anxieties. If it is not too much to ask, could I trouble you to hold me? I'm simply too frightened to move." it feels like he's reciting lines to a play he wanted no part in and you're not sure if you should laugh or cry. Here you were, fighting back your base instincts to just touch him and enjoy his warmth and now you're basically being told that that’s exactly what he'd like you to do (it can’t mean the depraved way you’d wanted though). He almost seems totally different than he had been at the castle- and you're realizing that he's been playing up his fear (You can’t bring yourself to hope it’s for more physical contact). Blinking down at the demon you try to offer a different, supportive tone, but he lifts a gloved hand, placing it against your mouth. Shifting his expression into the type of smile that acts as a warning, he repeats himself. "If it is not too much to ask, could I trouble you to hold me?" It seems second time's the charm.
Lowering yourself against him, you pull Barbatos into your arms and he immediately reciprocates. He drapes himself around you and the cuddle that ensues makes your heart hammer and your face flush. You can't believe that he wanted this as well, basically put on a whole performance for you to just get to this point (though, it’s probably platonic) and you can't help but wonder when it started. When the sensation isn't immediately flooding your system with endorphins, you manage to ask. "So, the rat thing in the castl-" he bumps his forehead against yours hard enough to derail you. Clearly, he doesn't want to speak about it, so that's proof enough that the whole thing wasn't a lie. You remove a hand from his waist to nurse your brow, and he sighs a little against your chin.
As per his request, you keep silent, holding him against you while your entire body overheats and putters out. It's the closest thing to heaven as you can find in hell and while you wish you could confirm his intention, you also just want to take the chance to revel in this sensation a little longer (who cares if it’s platonic for him, this is awesome). He's so warm and you can feel his muscles, compact in his lithe frame. Holding him like this, smelling his breath and feeling it against your face makes your stomach flip around like a gyroscope. Willing yourself to calm down takes forever, but after some time you do manage to calm enough to pass out in his arms. You wake a short time later as he shifts to stand from the bed.
Watching him retrieve his things and adhere his necktie feels like an invasion of his privacy. His deft fingers work easily around the knot and as he readies himself to return to the rest of the world, you can't help but stare (like always). Barbatos is so gorgeous. His shoulders, not too broad but manly, his thin waist, perfect to wrap your hands around, his sleek build, elegant and inviting- you feel like a pervert and need to bury your face into the pillow to stop from audibly groaning. He hears you all the same and returns to the bed, kneeling beside you. The sensation of his fingers against your head is what make your eyes open to meet him and when they do you feel yourself melt all over again, but not enough to stop your question. "Why play up the damsel in distress act?" You mumble into your pillow, unwilling to break eye contact with the beautiful demon.
Barbatos' chuckle shoots through your bones and you let out a pathetic noise as he pets your head, dragging his thumb along the shell of your ear. "Please forgive my earlier deception. I had intended to push passed my distress and return to the castle immediately, but your face was so determined, and your arms were quite inviting- I found myself wanted to play the damsel quite desperately." He strokes from your ear to your cheek and puts on a devious little smile. "Since you were so eager, both today and every time you lose yourself staring, I could not help myself." Peppermint is all you can smell as he leans into you, turning your head with the hand on your cheek and whispering your name against your lips. "I wanted you to spoil me a while." He leans in the slightest bit more, letting his lip rub against yours in a soft press but no real kiss. When he pulls away, it's with a coy smile and an amused expression. "My sincerest apologies, darling." You're sure he's never been less sorry for anything.
Teal roots itself to you as he stands back up, straightens his posture and clothing and then turns to the door. His eyes drop from you when he turns, and you feel breath in your lungs again. You're almost dizzy on his aura and you hadn't even noticed when grabbing the sheets until your hands ache from squeezing them. Before he closes the door, Barbatos offers you one last look over, his eyes trailing your prone body and that same satisfied expression etched into his sinful features. Once he's out of sight you melt and groan. There isn't a soul alive who could stand up to the time demon when he wanted to seduce someone- that was clearly him trying to seduce you right?
Exhausted and exhilarated, you stare up at the ceiling as you play with your lip. The sensation of him in your arms, against your body, pressing your lips together (your first proper kiss would be way better than that), it all leaves you thrumming and excited. Barbatos has plagued your thoughts for as long as you've known him, and while you would never have assumed anything a week ago, it's clear your constant desire for the man had become not only obvious, but welcome as well. It would be a waste to not seize the opportunity and fantasize about the man with his clear approval. So, for the rest of the night (and month), you recall every touch of his fingers, his lips, the way his forehead had knocked yours and how his body had pressed against you. It all swirls in your mind in a smog of peppermint and teal and as you fall asleep that night, the only sound you can hear in the quiet is your own laboured breathing and the way he'd chuckled around your name before asking you to spoil him.
hihii can i req reader that is like academically smart but is also very naive at the same time?? reader would probably fall for the most obvious clickbait or something feel free to do with any bllk characters (especially sae 💋💋) thank youu but also feel free to ignore this if you don't want it
“𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦”
a/n: i read rage bait instead of click bait after writing everything, but decided to keep it since it’s still fitting 😭
ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito
isagi yoichi
“you’re literally smarter than me, so why are you fighting with an anime profile picture?”
you’re writing a full essay in the comments under a rage bait post that says “math is fake and only lazy people like numbers.”
“love. they want you to argue. that’s the whole point. it’s bait.”
you, while typing aggressively: “it’s the principle.”
isagi literally has to pry the phone out of your hands.
“they’re trolling. why are you citing academic sources in a thread about flat earth?”
alternates between being impressed and deeply concerned.
“you’re so smart it’s scary. and yet, you just fell for a post that said ‘gravity is a scam made by the big ladder.’”
will still throw slurs under his fake account at anyone that tries to come after you.
itoshi rin
“get off the internet. log off. i’m blocking you from twitter.”
you: reading a post that says “the mitochondria isn’t real.”
also you: seeing red.
he watches you scroll past rage bait like, “no... don't take the bait... dammit.”
“you know better. you literally know better.”
gets mad with you but refuses to engage.
he’s just staring at you spiraling over a troll who said “logic is fake” and muttering, “wtf is wrong with this generation.”
turns off your wifi like a concerned parent.
“you’re not arguing with someone named @cattboysupreme69. go read a book.”
kaiser michael
“you’re falling for rage bait again, huh? i love this dumb little hobby of yours.”
finds it hilarious that you get so fired up over random garbage takes.
literally records you pacing and ranting about how “emotions are valid sources of decision making, actually.”
“schatz, you’re a valedictorian. why are you beefing with someone who said ‘plants don’t have feelings so vegans are evil’?”
fully encourages it for fun.
“no, no, quote them. let’s go viral.”
brags to his teammates like, “my girl’s a genius and also beefing with half of conspiracy tik tok. goals.”
secretly reports every troll you argue with behind the scenes. he’s protective in a petty, passive-aggressive way.
itoshi sae
“this is why i hate people. and also why you shouldn’t be online unsupervised.”
you fell into a rage trap that said “women don’t belong in STEM.”
sae, watching you rage-type a dissertation just said, “block them and move on.”
you: “no. they need to be educated.”
he takes your phone.
“they don’t. they have 12 followers and use comic sans unironically.”
quietly annoyed but impressed that you always come with facts.
lowkey reads your arguments later and thinks, “damn. my girl snapped.”
would absolutely start threatening people if they get too bold with you.
“she might be arguing like it’s a thesis defense, but if any of you make her cry, i’m breaking your nose.”
shidou ryusei
“babe, you’re smart as hell, but you’re also fighting with rage bait like it personally insulted your dog.”
thinks it’s hilarious.
“they said books are just dead trees. you really gonna let that slide?”
you: frothing with rage “i will not let that slide.”
shidou: eating popcorn and hyping you up “go off, professor! educate their ass!”
he will 100% jump in and start trolling with you.
“yo, babe, say something about their spelling. that always pisses ‘em off.”
gives you an award when you get someone to delete their comment.
“queen behavior. love that for you.”
nagi seishiro
“can we not. like ever. please.”
the most done every time you scream: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE SUN ISN’T A STAR AND IT’S A PLANET?!”
he just wants to play games, not watch you get into a 14-comment back-and-forth with a dude named @trumpfan420.
“you’re literally a genius. why are you arguing with people who think australia doesn’t exist?”
lies on your lap and sighs dramatically.
“you’re lucky you’re cute when you’re mad.”
secretly proud of how well you school people, though.
once tried to help you argue but got bored after one sentence.
“i told them ‘L’ and left.”
mikage reo
“you’re academically brilliant. and also very online. it’s like watching an intellectual gladiator fight trolls.”
every time he hears “REO. THEY SAID SHAKESPEARE WAS MID.” he already knows what’s happening.
you’re pacing around the house, typing furiously, quoting sonnets and throwing in stats.
“you’re smarter than the entire room but still letting a 14-year-old with a controversial hot take ruin your night.”
he makes tea and sits beside you while you rage.
“need a bibliography link, baby?”
lowkey brags to others: “yeah my girl just flamed a whole subreddit with APA formatting.”
you’re his little chaos genius and he loves it.
“you’re going to be a nobel prize winner and twitter’s most feared debater at the same time.”
karasu tabito
“you’re out here fighting for your life against rage bait and i’m living for it.”
watches you with popcorn like it’s live TV.
“ohhh here they go. someone said philosophy is just overpriced poetry. let’s gooo.”
he fully instigates sometimes.
“babe, someone said gravity isn’t real. thoughts?”
you start ranting, and he just grins like an agent of chaos.
“why are you like this?”
“why are you like this?”
says he’ll block the trolls for you. ends up ratioing them with memes instead.
y’all are the duo that trolls the trolls and then drops a full essay for fun.
if anyone dares say “women can’t argue,” karasu just goes, “you sure about that?” and lets you annihilate them in 5k characters.
how would the family and conner react to a rich douchey alpha trying to court omega mousey?
also LOVE the sickbed series!!!!
hope your doing well and eating and drinking enough!! 💜💜💜
-🐈⬛
Thank you!! I also hope you're doing well!!
How would the Batfamily + Conner react to a rich and douchey Alpha trying to court you?
Alpha!Bruce:
Money? He's posturing around and acting like a big, tough alpha because he has money? Bruce laughs this man out of your face. He wipes his ass with toilet paper that costs more than this guy's total net worth, and you are a Wayne. You don't need any fucking money, and for this guy to think he can win your heart like that is nothing but a total joke. You are more than financially provided for, and if this guy's whole personality is nothing but money then he can leave, immediately, forever.
Omega!Hal:
If he's around you the same time the Alpha is there, he's bitching about smell the whole time. I'm talking "god DAMN it's musky in here. Someone needs a bath. Pronto." He will not shut up about how bad the alpha pheromones stinkkkk. "The douchier the alpha, the worse he smells by the way." Especially if the Alpha is doing it on purpose.
Will offer him scent patches. Will offer him soap. Will eventually look him in the eye, uncaring if it incites a Challenge, and say "hey man, we get it. You smell interested. But I like breathing clean air and we're choking on your nasty posturing bullshit right now. Please relax. Or leave. Actually just leave."
Alpha!Dick:
Refuses to tolerate any douchebag posturing behavior. Entitlement? Just because his baby sibling is an Omega? Bye. See ya. Do not pass Go. Turn right around and fuck off. Nobody gets to rock up in Mouse's personal space and try to coerce them into a relationship just because of caste. What a shitty way to navigate through life. Oh, you're still here? Challenge accepted, prepare to get your shit rocked.
Omega!Jason:
He's throwing hands. Sorry, he doesn't have the patience to bitch the guy away or even have a conversation; he's just putting his hands up and throwing two to the dome. Fuck outta here, for real.
Beta!Tim:
"Oh, Mouse watch out, this guy's got 30 thousand dollars in his checking account and he held the door open for you once he realized you were an Omega! Don't swoon too hard or you'll fall on the floor!.....anyways —"
Douchebag is asking Tim how he knows exactly how much money he's got in his account right now. He's being real pushy about it, too, trying to intimidate him into deferring. But Tim just rattles off his social security number, tells him he knows exactly how he got that dirty money, and requests that he walk away before things get real sticky for him, legally-speaking.
Omega!Damian:
CanNOT be near this alpha. He WILL bring out his swords and stab him to death.
He will kill him. He will dunk him in the Pit. He will kill him again. It's bad enough Damian used to think that was acceptable and normal behavior in the League, and now that he's seeing that behavior being targeted on his baby sibling, he's not having it!!! Alphas pressuring Omegas into courtship just because they're "biologically superior" is bullshit and he will fuck him up!!!!
Beta!Alfred:
He called Conner. Brandishing his shotgun is easy and effective, but it's not entertaining. Some overconfident Alpha garbage is daring to sully his grandchild's person just because of secondary sex characteristics? Alfred doesn't need to do a thing, not because he doesn't want to, but because he knows that not only are you more than capable of defending yourself, and you also have a perfectly polite Kryptonian Alpha to clean up this filth for you. And Alfred will get to watch the carnage unfold with a cup of Earl Grey.
Alpha!Conner:
The definition of "is this guy bothering you? Do you want me to fucking kill him?"
Conner defers to you. He completely ignores the existence of this idiot asshole until you tell him how to proceed. Ignore him and walk away together? You got it babe. Challenge him non-lethally into leaving you alone? You got it babe. Cook his ass with laser vision? You got it babe.
And if you happened to be alone, without any family around for backup, you'd have simply stuffed him in your pocket dimension and then spit him out somewhere across the country. Fuck right off with the douchebaggery please, because there's not enough patience in the world to deal with it.
