#I need. I need to know what the fuck happens next.

[kendrysaneela]

Genuinely. I really need people to stop saying “It’s only canon if they kiss” because 1. That means we will never get a slowburn queer relationship because no one will ever believe it without a kiss 2. That destroys queercoding. Which is a very important part of queer representation. And queercoding is not queerbaiting please learn the difference. 3. Not to mention how much queer representation we’d lose from history if kissing is a necessity for the representation to exist.

And then here’s a more modern example. So on the Kevin Can Fuck Himself there’s these two women Allison and Patty. This show was made by a queer woman. Allison and Patty are both stuck under the control of these abusive men. Patty stuck under the control her little brother who keeps her under his control out of guilt from their childhood. And Allison who’s stuck with her abusive husband mentally and financially. And also possibly even physically though that’s never explicitly stated the threat of that just lies in the air. And the show is basically Allison and Patty working together to escape the abusive men in their lives. And throughout this process they start to fall in love with each other. This is made so incredibly clear by the show. And Patty eventually becomes a canon lesbian. (She never says the word lesbian but they make that clear) Patty is more obviously in love with Allison most likely because she’s a canon lesbian whereas Allison’s sexuality is more still up in the air and she’s sleeping with a different guy. But it’s there you can see it. And we had it confirmed offscreen by the showrunner that Patty was in love with Allison and we know that because Patty said “Maybe can die alone together” and that was confirmed as an “I love you” by the showrunner. They’re leaning their heads together with their eyes closed when this scene happens. Very romantically coded. Then the show got prematurely cancelled halfway through the second season so they had to rush to wrap everything up in the second half of season 2. So Allison and Patty escape the abusive men in their lives much quicker than originally planned and in a different way than originally planned. Also lots of the original storyline between Allison and Patty had to be cut out because of it leading to a loss of development we otherwise would’ve gotten. But in the end they meet up again and they sit on the steps of Allison’s house and Patty says “Let’s die alone together” and Allison repeats “Let’s die alone together” now it’s already been established by the showrunner that this means “I love you” so you can take from that that they are in love with each other and somewhere down the line they will become a real couple. And that they will be together forever. The showrunner said about that scene “They are romantically alone but always together” or something like that. And SO MANY PEOPLE decided that because they didn’t kiss or say I love you that the entire show was a waste and all their romantic scenes were for naught just because they didn’t kiss or say “I love you” at the end and the QUEER showrunner didn’t explicitly say “That scene means they’re in love” and a big reason I saw people give for being angry at that was that “Straight people won’t know they’re queer they can just deny it if it’s not explicit!” And here’s the thing. Not only should we not be defining queer representation by how straight people view it but also straight people will deny canon queer representation even if they DO kiss!

Like for example on the show Doctor Odyssey there’s a canon slowburn mmf throuple. It’s been confirmed by the actors and showrunners that them being a throuple is going to be being explored this season on the show. All three of the characters Max,Avery and Tristan have all slept together once and they’ve all stated they liked it and the next episode they discussed the idea of polyamory and they showed us a polyamorous couple that was together and happy had all the characters discuss what polyamory is how it works and how it’s valid. The female character Avery very much wants them to be a throuple after their threesome and discusses it with the boys using the words “Throuple” and “Polyamorous” onscreen. the boys are still reluctant at the moment but they’ll get there they just need a second to get used to the idea. It’s basically as canon as canon can get before they actually become fully canon. And lemme repeat. Avery is the character who’s the most onboard for them being a throuple this is canon. They make this very explicit. She initiates the threesome and she spends an entire episode trying to convince the boys to be in a throuple with her. Yet yesterday? I saw an article talking about “Who should Avery choose?” Between the two boys. When the whole storyline of theirs is she isn’t going to choose nor does she want to. But yet there was an article STILL not getting it. Even with the words POLYAMOROUS AND THROUPLE being used in an episode MULTIPLE times and them all having slept together AND CANONICALLY ENJOYING IT. (They say so in words onscreen) And yet there the article was still denying it because it wasn’t fully canon yet. That’s what I’m talking about. Even when it is explicit as explicit as explicit can be straight people are going to deny it. So why are we defining our own queer rep by how straight people view it? It’s ours not theirs. They can come along and enjoy it if they choose they’re completely welcome! The more the merrier! But we shouldn’t define rep for us by how theyll view it. Because some straight people will never accept queer rep as real no matter how explicit it is. So their opinion doesn’t matter.

Discussions of what "counts" as "canon" queer representation fall apart the second you start talking about media older than about five years or so. If your only metric for "canon queerness" is a character looking directly into the camera and explaining their identity in specific, modern, US-American-English terminology, you're not going to get a good picture of what queer media looks like. If your barometer for what counts as "canon" requires two characters of the same gender to kiss on-screen, you're not going to get a good picture of what queer media looks like.

Dr. Septimus Pretorius (portrayed by Ernest Thesiger in 1935's Bride of Frankenstein) was never going to look directly into the camera and explain his sexuality in 2024 terms, but he remains an icon in queer media history. You cannot look at that character (blatantly queer-coded in the manner of the time, played by a queer man in a film directed by another queer man) and tell me that he isn't a part of queer media history.

To be honest, even when discussing modern queer media, I would argue that the popular idea of what "counts" as "canon" is very narrow and flawed. I've seen multiple posts in the past few days that say the Nimona movie is "implied" trans representation, and I just...no, y'all, it's not "implied," it's an allegory. The entire damn movie is about transgender struggle, and the original comic is deeply tied into N.D. Stevenson's own queer journey. It isn't subtle. You cannot look at that movie and pretend that it isn't about trans struggle. It's blatant, and to say that Nimona "isn't canonically trans" is a take that misses the story's entire message, and the blatant queerphobia that almost kept the movie from happening. (I wrote a five thousand word essay about the topic.)

Queer themes, queer coding, queer exploration, and queer representation can all exist in a piece of media that doesn't seem to have "canon queer characters" on the surface. Most queer characters are never going to be able to explicitly state their specific identity labels, be it due to censorship or just due to the fact that scenes like that don't fit in some narratives. Some stories aren't conducive to a big "so what's your identity?" scene.

Explicit, undeniable, "this is my identity in no uncertain terms" scenes are very important and radical, and I'm not saying they shouldn't ever exist. I am saying that you can't consider those scenes the only way for queerness in a piece of media to be "canon."

[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

————————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

��Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[thef1diary]

How would dirtbag!danny react to you sending him some risqué photos 😏

— that is a dangerous game, nonnie 👀 I’m imagining him miles away, where he can’t come over right away so he’ll have to make do with the photos you sent him, after degrading you on a call that is. 18+ content below

Your phone buzzed almost immediately after you sent the picture—a few sultry shots of you sprawled on your bed, wearing the tiniest scrap of lingerie you owned. The text was simple, just a playful “Thinking of you ;)”, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

Daniel’s reply came in fast.

Holy shit, sweetheart

Another buzz.

You really wanna do this to me right now?

And then your phone rang. You barely had time to speak before his voice came through the line, low and rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You smirked, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “Am I?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Sitting there looking like that, knowing damn well I can’t touch you. You’re cruel, you know that?”

The sound of him shifting—the rustle of fabric—caught your attention, and your breath hitched.

“Bet you’re feeling real proud of yourself, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Sending me photos like that and leaving me sitting here hard as a fucking rock. You’re lucky I’m not there, or I’d have you on your knees, choking on my cock until you’re begging for mercy.”

Your smirk deepened as his words poured through the line, every filthy syllable winding you tighter. You shifted on the bed, your thighs clenching instinctively, and you couldn’t help but tease him back.

“Oh, is that right?” you murmured, dragging your fingers along the edge of your lace panties. “All worked up just from a picture? Thought you could handle me better than this, Danny.”

He let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound rough and filled with promise. “Sweetheart, if I was there, you wouldn’t even have time to be a smartass. I’d already have my hand wrapped around that pretty little throat of yours, reminding you exactly who’s in charge.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words igniting something deep inside you. “Big talk for someone miles away. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, you think distance is gonna stop me?” His voice dropped even lower, laced with that dangerous edge that always made your knees weak. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to be there to control you. You’re mine, remember? And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, no questions asked.”

Your breath caught, a mix of anticipation and defiance bubbling in your chest. “And if I don’t?”

“Oh, you will,” he shot back smoothly. “Because you know what happens when you don’t listen. And after these little photos, you’re already in trouble.”

The casual threat sent a shiver down your spine. “Trouble?” you repeated, feigning innocence.

“You think I wouldn’t notice the time? Sending me that when you know damn well I’m busy?” he asked. “That’s gonna cost you. Next time I see you, I’m gonna put you over my knee and spank you until that ass is covered with my fucking handprints. Then, maybe you’ll think twice before teasing me like this.”

You swallowed hard, the image vivid in your mind, and let out a shaky, “Danny…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smugly. “Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. Slide those panties off—slowly. I want you completely bare for me. Then, I want you to touch yourself, but don’t you dare cum. You’re gonna edge yourself for me, sweetheart, keep yourself nice and ready for when I get there.”

You hesitated for a second, the teasing smile on your face faltering. “And if I don’t?”

His laugh was dark, almost amused. “If you don’t? I’ll make you regret it. I’ll tie you up and make you watch me get myself off instead of giving you what you’re begging for.”

The thought sent a rush of heat through you, and you found yourself complying, your fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties. “Happy now?” you murmured, your voice breathless.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone sharp. “I want proof. Send me a video—of those pretty little fingers working. Let me hear you whine for me, say my name like you mean it. But don’t even think about cumming. That’s for me to decide, not you.”

You bit your lip, already feeling the ache building as your fingers brushed over your slick heat. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

“And you love it,” he shot back. “Now be a good girl and show me exactly how much.”

He ended the call and with a shaky breath, you propped your phone up and hit record, knowing full well that this little game was far from over—and the consequences would be everything he promised and more.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[kaz-oooo]

People are making fun of Jon for shaking Jude’s hand????

This is the first time he’s met her, he completely out of his depth in this scene, he hardly knows anything about what the fears are and what their avatars can do, he’s speaking to Jude because he wants to learn that information (even if she laughs at him and mocks him for those questions) but despite all that he knows she’s a monster, knows she can and will burn him without hesitation so before this scene even starts he refuses to shake her hand.

And Jude offers him even more information, something he desperately needs at this point in time, information she’s dangling over his head. When she asks for the handshake he hesitates — like we see at the start of the episode he knows what will happen and wants to refuse, but right now he needs that lead more than he needs his hand and (exactly as stereo-sys pointed out) Jude is a threatening him, if he refuses again he’s risking far more than just a hand.

And when he does agree he’s not naively trusting her. It’s “fine”, he’s giving in to her terms, not naively falling for her trap.

I love being silly about these characters and calling Jon a dumbass as much as the next guy. But Jon isn’t stupid, he’s quite smart actually. I mean take the table thing as another example. Even Jon berates himself in the episode for misreading the statement he found and breaking the table but the odds against him aren’t fair

Jon is running off very limited information, he has been paranoid for the past few months, probably hasn’t been sleeping properly, Elias is very intentionally keeping him ignorant, not!Sasha is leaving hints and clues all around to manipulate him into breaking the table — of course he fucks up and makes the wrong choice. But, based on that information he made the connection to the table and the not!them entity, realised they were tied and assumed that if he destroyed one he’d destroy the other… that’s a fair conclusion to come to, a little sloppy and rushed but far from stupid.

I could rant forever about this, but I think I’ll cap it there.

JONATHAN ARCHIVIST IS NOT STUPID SQUAD I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU

[moody-alcoholic]

Kidnapped

John Price x reader CW: You read the title right? break in, kidnapping, drugging, canon typical violence.

You always thought John was joking when he told you, you might have to hide from people out to get him. He’s a soldier after all, not a crook. He’s out there doing his bit for queen and country, saving lives and fighting the bad guys.

It’s not like in the movies where there’s drugs or you’re on the run, he hasn’t broken the law. You live a simple life; you work, you cook, shop, keep the house clean. The only difference between you and any other person you know is your husband sometimes disappears for weeks at a time. Months if you’re unlucky.  

There’s missed birthdays and anniversaries, contact can be hard when he’s away. You fill your time by working overtime or hanging out with friends so when he’s home you can dedicate all your time to him. 

So you thought it was him when the slam of a door jolts you from your sleep. You open your eyes, picking up your phone to check the time. It’s almost 2am, not an unusual time for him to get back after a long deployment. 

But something is different, something is wrong. 

John is not the type of person to sneak through your house, he’s not the type of person to worry about not making noise. Whoever closed the door is walking through your house in silence. There’s no heavy drop of a duffle bag, no bounce of kicked off boots. No clank of keys in the bowl by the door. 

It’s so silent you can hear your own heartbeat picking up in your chest. 

Maybe it was the wind, maybe you forgot to close a window? Then you hear the creek on the steps, the pause in the intruder's stride. This is an old house with old floors. 

John told you want to do, he prepped you for this exact situation but somehow in the panic of the moment your mind is drawing a blank. Maybe you should pretend to be asleep, maybe then they will leave you alone. 

No, something tells you to move. You grab your phone slipping off your bed onto the floor. In the basement there’s a storm room, although living in the UK you don’t have much use for it, John refurbished it to a panic room. He keeps his ‘not-so-legal’ weapons in there, only you and him know the code. 

You’re forgetting everything he taught you, all you can think about is making sure you don’t lose your phone and making it to the garage. You pull yourself up to your feet, your hands are shaking as you make it to the door. You crack it open holding your breath. 

“I think we need to go up a floor.” 

“Ugh, it’s going to be a pain to get her out of here.”

It’s two people, and they’re clearly after you. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You wait until you hear them start up the next flight before sneaking down to the ground floor. You can feel tears well up in your eyes. 

This can’t be happening, why are people after you? What did John do? 

You make it into the kitchen, closing the door behind you. You make sure to hold the handle down so there is no audible click before you let it go. Maybe you should run, just call the police. John told you not to though. Call John, get to the safe room.

It takes you two attempts to open the contacts app on your phone. Your hands are shaking, your fingers feel numb. Eventually you manage to click on his number bringing the phone up to your ear as the call rings out. You make it over to the backdoor that leads into the garage. 

“Come on, come on, John pick up.” You whisper hearing the shake in your voice, as you fumble for the back door key on the rack. It feels like you’re making too much noise. 

The call goes to the answerphone. “Fuck, John.” Frustration boils in you, why is he not picking up?

You find the key. The frustration is replaced with relief as you fumble pressing it into the keyhole. 

You dial his number again as you go into the garage, you can see the false wall of tools John hid the door behind. You’re rushing towards it as you pull the facade back revealing the slim door, into the meter-by-meter room. 

“Hey!” You turn seeing a figure in the dark you don’t recognise.

You forgot to lock the kitchen door. 

You throw yourself into the space. It’s too late someone grabs your arm. You scream and fight as they pull you back. Your body falls to the floor, you drop the phone. 

“NO!” you scream as a hand claps round your mouth. There’s another person now they’re shouting at each other, at you. You kick, and flail as hands grip you, fingers digging into your skin. Tears stream down your face, you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. 

The hand leaves your mouth and you scream as loud as you can. Even in your ears the scream sounds foreign. It’s real fear, you’re screaming for your life.

A wet rag is placed over your nose and mouth. It smells rancid, after a few breaths your head starts to swim. The second pair of hands grip your ankles. Suddenly you don’t have the strength to fight. Adrenaline pulses through you, you try to dig your heels into the ground. 

For a second you free one of your legs slamming your foot flat on the ground.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” 

An arm comes round your neck squeezing tight. You can’t breathe, you can't suck in air. Your head swims, your body goes limp. You try to squirm but it's no use. Your last though is of John, you hope you haven't let him down.

____

[seungkw1]

safe haven — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader ♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food ♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.

Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”

You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey. 

Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.

You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in: 

Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now. 

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago. 

Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???

Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…

Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it. 

But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.

“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”

“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”

“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”

“Listen, y/n-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”

And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too. 

You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed. 

You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-

“Um, excuse me…”

You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”

“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”

“Is the lock frozen?”

“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”

“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.

“The front door locks behind you when you leave.” 

“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.

“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”

Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.

“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him. 

The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room. 

“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots. 

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?” 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success. 

“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.” 

The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.

You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin. 

“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”

“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.

“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.

“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”

He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”

“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile. 

The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.

“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”

You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”

He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”

You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.

“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Of course,” he nods. 

“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”

You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble. 

“That sounds amazing,” you reply. 

Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew. 

“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”

“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”

“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.

“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”

“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.

“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical. 

“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”

He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.

“So… what exactly do they win?”

“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.

“So they don’t even get any money from it??”

“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.

“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.

“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.

The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-

Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.

“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you  glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes, please.”

He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.

“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.

“Of course,” he nods.

“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”

He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.

“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.

“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin. 

“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.

“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment. 

“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.

“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”

He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.

“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”

He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit. 

“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”

“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff. 

“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment. 

“It’s alright,��� he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”

His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice. 

“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” 

“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”

Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.

“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”

He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”

He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.

“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”

[ilovedinodino]

player 066

synopsis: Haechan came to earn money from some strange games and didn't expect to see you, his ex.

paring: player!haechan x player!reader

warnings: blood, fights, literally the same thing that happens in the squid game happens here

wc: 5259

Who haven’t seen season 2 don’t read it!

Haechan didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect some childish games to involve death for losing. After the first game, he was horrified and wanted nothing more than to go home, back to his friends and family. He was certain that during the vote, everyone would choose X—but how wrong he was.

Haechan glanced up at the scoreboard, silently praying that the remaining players would come to their senses and choose to leave this wretched place. He wanted to scream.

“Player 012.”

Haechan turned toward the crowd, and his breath caught.

“Y/N?..”

The boy froze in shock, unable to believe his eyes as he watched you stand there, hesitating over which button to press.

Haechan’s mind raced. Why is this so hard for you to decide? Weren’t you terrified after everything you’ve seen? And why the fuck are you here?

*Ding.*

The blue light flashed, and Team O erupted in cheers, celebrating loudly.

You had chosen O.

—

After the vote, they started handing out food. By the way, four people voted after you, and two of them chose O, which meant you weren’t allowed to leave and should to play next game. Haechan was upset and still couldn’t understand what you were doing here. He wanted to find you, but he lost you in the sea of green uniforms.

Grabbing his food, Haechan began walking toward one of the bunks. Then he stopped. You were sitting on one of the beds, quietly eating.

God, you were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but Haechan hadn’t seen you in five months, and in that moment, he thought you’d become even more radiant.

Without hesitation, he quickly walked over to you.

You were eating peacefully when you suddenly felt someone standing in front of you. Slowly, you lifted your head, ready to say something to the stranger with number 066, but then you saw him.

Lee Haechan.

The same guy you had broken up with and still couldn’t come to terms with. For half a year, you had tried to forget him, but nothing worked. You thought of him every night in your dreams, before falling asleep, and even in the mornings. Constantly. And now, here he was, standing in this strange place, wearing a strange green uniform, right in front of you.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

“Haechan,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you doing here?”

You flinched at the question. What were you doing here? You didn’t even know yourself. You had wanted to escape somewhere far away from everything, and this seemed like a perfect solution—earning some money along the way didn’t hurt either.

“I came to win money, just like you. Is that not allowed?” you said, your tone cold.

Haechan’s expression softened, his heart sinking at your distant words. Still, he sat down next to you while you shot him a wary look.

“Do you need money?” he asked gently.

"I need to pay for my studies."

"You could have asked me."

"You?" You laugh. "You’re here because you don’t have money yourself, and you’re telling me I should’ve asked you? Besides, don’t you think it’s strange to ask for money from your ex—someone you haven’t talked to or seen in six months?"

Haechan falls silent. Technically, you were right. But he wasn’t completely broke—he could’ve helped you if you had asked. He was here to earn more money for his dreams, so he wouldn’t have to take out extra loans. And you were also right about the part with the ex, but Haechan didn’t want to dwell on that. It hurt too much.

"Why did you vote to keep playing? Did that old man convince you?"

You smirk and poke at the rice with your spoon.

"I didn’t want to go home, and the prize money was too small."

"20 million won is too small?!" Haechan stares at you in disbelief. "Aren’t you afraid you might die?"

"I’m not," you reply, avoiding his gaze, while he keeps looking at you intently.

"From now on, I’ll stay with you."

"What?" You lift your head in surprise, finally looking him in the eye.

"From this moment on..." Haechan’s eyes lock with yours. "...I’ll be with you," he says, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"I ran away from everyone to end up with you following me around? No, Haechan, I don’t need this." You start to get up, setting your meal aside, but Haechan grabs your wrist and stands with you.

"Let go."

"I’m not letting you go in a place like this. It’s too dangerous."

"I’m not a child, Haechan."

"I don’t care. You can do whatever you want, but I won’t even consider leaving you alone here."

You stare at each other for a long moment, his grip firm yet not forceful. Deep down, you know he won’t back down—not even with a gun to his head. Haechan had always been this stubborn.

Of course, you were just as stubborn, but the truth was, you were glad he was here with you, even if you refused to admit it.

—

After lights out, you were escorted to the next game. You tried to avoid Haechan, but it didn’t work very well. At that moment, as you climbed the stairs, he was right behind you. You hadn’t even noticed when he managed to fall into step behind you.

"Don’t try to run away from me, sweetheart," he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

You ignored him and kept walking.

"I heard that in the next game, you’ll have to carve shapes out of a cookie, so pick the triangle," he added casually.

You stopped and turned to face him.

"Where did you hear that?"

Haechan simply shrugged and gently turned you back around, nudging you to keep moving forward.

It didn’t feel like a game about cookies.

Somehow, you managed to slip away from Haechan and stood at the far end of the room, nearly alone. Like everyone else, you were surveying the space when a female voice suddenly rang out:

"Divide into teams of five."

Damn. This definitely wasn’t about cookies. You looked around, seeing how everyone began forming teams, scrambling to find people.

You spotted a group of men and cautiously approached them.

"Excuse me. I’m on my own—can I join your team?"

The four men gave you a once-over before exchanging looks.

"Listen, we need strong and smart people on our team..."

You didn’t need to hear more to understand their implication. They didn’t want women—they wanted men. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turned and started searching again.

—

Haechan was losing his mind. He had searched the entire damn hall, and you were nowhere to be found. The thought of you being stuck with some random weaklings or sketchy players made his blood boil. You had to be with him—right now, no, right this second.

"Hey, want to team up with me?"

Haechan turned toward the voice and saw a guy around his age grinning at him.

"I noticed you’re walking around alone. I’m on my own too, so if you don’t mind, we could team up and look for more people together."

The guy’s wide smile seemed genuine, and Haechan figured it wasn’t the worst idea.

"Yeah, sure. But there’s going to be a girl with us. Is that okay with you?"

The guy waved his hand dismissively, his grin unwavering.

"Of course! That’s even better. I’m Hendery, by the way."

He extended his hand, and Haechan shook it firmly.

"Haechan."

"Nice to meet you! So, where’s the girl?"

Haechan’s jaw tightened as he scanned the room again, his frustration bubbling.

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out."

Hendery glanced at the timer and nodded.

"We still have time, so we’ll find her. What does she look like?"

Haechan opened his mouth to reply but suddenly froze. His eyes caught sight of you—standing just behind Hendery. But you weren’t alone. You were with some guy.

Without thinking, Haechan shot up and strode toward you, his sudden movements making Hendery follow in confusion.

"Y/N! Where the hell have you been?!"

You flinched as Haechan grabbed your arm unexpectedly, letting out an exasperated sigh when you realized it was him.

"God, could you be gentler?!"

"Gentler?!" Haechan’s voice dripped with frustration. "Where have you been? Why did you—" He cut himself off abruptly when his gaze locked onto the tall guy standing next to you.

The boy fidgeted under Haechan’s intense stare before mumbling awkwardly, "I’m Sungchan. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand hesitantly, and Haechan shook it reluctantly, his grip firmer than necessary.

"Oh! We only need one more person now, and we’re set!" Hendery exclaimed enthusiastically, his bright demeanor completely at odds with the tense atmosphere.

Haechan, however, wasn’t sharing in the excitement. His sharp eyes darted between you and Sungchan, while you glared back at him with irritation. Sungchan seemed ready to disappear under the pressure of Haechan’s silent judgment.

"I’m with you," a deep voice suddenly cut through the awkwardness.

All four of you turned to see an incredibly tall man with long hair stepping toward the group. His commanding presence left everyone speechless for a moment.

Hendery, however, didn’t miss a beat. "Perfect!" he cheered, practically beaming at the addition.

But Haechan’s attention was still fixed on you and Sungchan, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. This wasn’t how he imagined things would go.

—

Once the announcement was made to assign one person to each of the five games, the team gathered, exchanging uncertain glances.

"I’ll take Jegi. That’s literally the only game I can play," you declared, breaking the silence. The guys turned to look at you, and the tall man with the long hair chuckled, tilting his head.

"Alright, but who’s the strongest here? We’ll need someone for Ddakji."

The group fell silent until Sungchan nervously raised his hand.

"I… I think I can handle it."

Haechan was about to say something when you cut him off, pointing directly at him.

"Haechan will play Gong-gi!"

"What?!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"You’re practically a pro at it! Come on, don’t pretend you’re not." You nudged his shoulder, and he glanced around nervously.

"Really? We need someone skilled for that game," Hendery chimed in with his ever-optimistic grin.

Haechan sighed in defeat, muttering, "Fine, I’ll do it."

"I’ll take Flying Stone," the long-haired man said calmly, crossing his arms.

"Guess that leaves me with Spinning Top," Hendery shrugged, still grinning as if this was all a casual game night.

—

*Bang.*

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the room, followed by the horrifying thud of bodies hitting the floor.

You violently, your gaze glued to the bloodied corpses of the first two groups. They hadn’t made it. They hadn’t been fast enough.

Fear surged through you like ice. What if your team wasn’t fast enough? What if you couldn’t hit the shuttlecock five times in Jegi? What if—

"Y/N," Haechan’s soft voice broke through the storm in your mind.

His hands gently landed on your shoulders, steadying you.

"Hey," he whispered, carefully turning you away from the blood-soaked floor. "Don’t look at that. Look at me."

You hesitated but finally met his gaze. He smiled at you, warm and reassuring, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to anchor you.

"Everything will be fine," he said, his voice soft but firm.

You stood there, frozen, staring at him. Slowly, his calm confidence seeped into you, easing the rigid tension in your body. For a moment, all you could focus on was the safety in his eyes.

—

“Damn, we’re last. That’s sad,” Hendery joked, his tone light despite the tension.

Your team stood still as the staff locked the metal restraints around your ankles, the heavy weight of the game’s stakes settling in. And you were here alone. Only with another team.

The game began.

Sungchan wasted no time. Grabbing the Ddakji square, he struck with precision, flipping the paper on his first try.

"YES!" you all shouted in unison, voices echoing in the room as you sprinted to the next game.

"One, two! One, two!"

The second game flew by in a blur. The tall man threw the stone with ease, landing it perfectly before swiftly striking it back to the start. Another victory. You jumped up and down, cheering wildly as the group moved cautiously to the next station.

The third game was Gong-gi. The group waited as the guard placed the table and handed out the small stones.

Haechan’s hands were trembling. No one seemed to notice, riding the adrenaline high of their earlier wins, but his heart was racing. He sat down, staring at the stones as he picked up the first one.

Focus. Just focus.

He dropped it.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, gathering the stones again.

"Haechan, it’s fine! Don’t rush, we still have time," Hendery said from the side, his encouraging words meant to ease the tension.

But it didn’t help. Haechan’s hands shook even more, and the stones slipped again.

“Come on,” he whispered, frustration bubbling in his chest. He started over, but his nerves betrayed him, the stones scattering across the table once more.

Haechan glanced at the timer, panic surging as he realized how much time he’d wasted. He hadn’t even cleared the round.

“Crap, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I—”

"Donghyuck."

Your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. He felt your hand gently rest on his shoulder, and he turned to look at you.

His face was drenched in sweat, his expression on the verge of breaking completely.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you reached out and placed your palm softly against his cheek, stroking it with a calmness that seemed out of place in the chaos around you.

“You’ve got this,” you said softly, your voice steady and warm.

Haechan blinked at you, the fear in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—something calmer, more grounded. For the first time since the game started, his hands steadied.

“You’re okay, Hyuck. You’ll get through this. You’ve always done it for me, right?”

Something tugged at his chest when he heard the nickname only you used for him. Feeling the warmth of your hand on his cheek, Haechan steadied his breath.

He started again, his movements faster and more precise this time. One by one, he flipped the stones with skill, catching them all in the end. He slowly raised his fist to show the guard, who silently gave an “O” gesture.

“Success.”

Cheers erupted as you all celebrated, moving on to the next game.

"One, two! One, two!"

—

The last two games were grueling, but somehow, you all managed to finish with just five seconds left on the timer. It was a narrow escape, but an escape nonetheless.

Now, back in the main hall, the atmosphere was somber. No one spoke as the weight of what you’d just been through settled over the group.

Haechan had quietly moved away from the rest of you, sitting by himself in the corner. His head was low, his shoulders slumped.

“Haechan, why are you sitting there?” Hendery asked, his concern evident as he got up and walked over.

The rest of you followed, though you sat a bit farther from him than the others.

“I’m sorry…” Haechan mumbled into his hands, his face buried in his knees. “Because of me… you all almost died… I shouldn’t have—”

Hendery wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a reassuring hug.

“Hey, come on now,” Sungchan chimed in, patting Haechan’s back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. After everything we’ve seen today, who wouldn’t be shaken up? No one could focus in a place like this.”

“This place is insane,” Sungchan added, his voice filled with frustration.

You glanced at him, noticing a cross on his chest. A quick look at the others revealed the same symbol on Hendery and the tall man.

But when your eyes dropped to your own chest, you realized you were the only one with the O.

“It's because of me that we’re still here...”

Everyone’s attention shifts to you as your words hang in the air.

“I voted to continue the game…” You glance down at your hoodie.

“Come on, guys, stop!” The tall, handsome guy says, trying to comfort you. “We all make mistakes. The important thing is that we’re still alive. Besides, you weren’t the only one who voted to continue. So you’re not to blame.”

Haechan, who had raised his head when you began speaking, watches you silently while you focus on your sneakers.

“By the way, my name is Johnny. I’m from Chicago.”

“Chicago? I was there once when I was a kid. Im Hendery!” Hendery says, introducing himself.

“I’m Sungchan!”

“Lee Haechan…” Haechan mutters quietly, and everyone turns their attention to you, waiting for your response.

Noticing the silence, you lift your head and hesitate for a moment. “I... Y/N...”

“Nice to meet everyone!” Johnny says with a cheerful grin.

—

The second voting began. This time, you were certain that you were going to leave. After such a brutal game, you were sure that everyone else would want to leave too. There was no other option. Could they really be this stupid?

*Ding.*

The blue team jumps in joy.

24 – 28.

What the hell?

Soon, the score is tied, and the red team starts to win. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Guys, why are you so boring? Let's all vote for the circle, okay?”

“God, this freak again,” you mutter to yourself after the guy with purple hair votes.

“Yeah, he's definitely strange,” Haechan agrees with you.

Fuck.

The last person went to vote, and the blue team won. They celebrated loudly while you, the red team, sat quietly, frustrated and angry.

"Let's see how they’ll celebrate when they all die," you turn at the harsh, blunt voice of Hendery.

"What?" He glance at you. "I just want to go home, and because of these stupid assholes, I’m back on the edge of death again.” Hendery kicks the floor and heads to the bed.

You all exchange glances, taken aback by this unexpected side of him.

“He can be like this?”

—

After the food was handed out, you left it with Songchan and went to the bathroom. You couldn’t stay there, you had no appetite. How could you think about food after everything you had seen? You walked to the sink, turned on cold water, and washed your face. The bathroom was empty, and you finally felt some peace. But suddenly the door opened, and Haechan stepped in.

"Why are you in the women’s bathroom?" you asked, surprised. Haechan smiled and replied:

"Women’s? This is the men’s bathroom, Y/N." You stepped out and saw that the door did indeed say "men’s bathroom." Haechan grinned and said:

"Didn’t you notice anything strange?" He walked to the sink and started washing his face.

"I didn’t pay attention to anything except the sink..." you ignored the fact that you were still in the men’s bathroom, since no one else was there except Haechan. What difference did it make?

"Are you okay?" Haechan asked as he wiped his face with his shirt. You slowly turned to him.

"I... yeah... ah, fuck, of course I’m not okay! How could I be okay when I’ve seen so many people get killed right in front of me? When my clothes are soaked in their blood? When I was almost killed myself? Who could be okay after all that? Only crazy people, Haechan!" Haechan stood in shock at your loud outburst. You both stood there, looking at each other, until you spoke again:

"Sorry... I just want to go home and live a normal life." You leaned over the sink again, splashing your face with water and wiping it. Haechan stayed silent, then approached you and gently lifted your face.

"Y/N, I understand, don’t apologize. I’m going crazy here too, from this place and these people. You saw how I almost got us killed? I lost my mind completely."

"Don’t say that, you didn’t do anything," you interrupted him.

"You didn’t do anything either, so don’t blame yourself for the first vote. Just calm down. I said I’d always be here for you, and I kept my word, didn’t I?"

You looked at his face for a long moment and quietly said:

"You haven’t been here for me the last five months."

Haechan smiled softly and stroked your face.

"It’s not about that now, Y/N. Let’s not talk about it."

"Why? Because you stopped loving me and left? Now you're pretending like nothing happened?"

"Y/N, it's not like that, and you know it. I never stopped loving you."

"Sunghoon said you didn’t care about me, that you didn’t care about our relationship. He said you found someone else…"

"Do you believe that jerk?"

You flinch at his sharp, cold tone.

"I..."

"You're still listening to him? I told you he's ruining your life. Didn't he make you fight with Karina? Why are you still falling for it?"

"I'm not falling for it..."

"Then shut up and stop talking about him. Everything he tells you is a lie, especially about me and our relationship. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. You know why we broke up, and it wasn’t our fault. It just happened."

You feel hot tears on your cheeks and start to sob. Haechan wipes your tears away and leans in to kiss them.

"Please, don’t cry. We... we’ll fix all of this when we get out of this game..."

You stay quiet, just looking at each other.

"Promise?"

"I promise." Haechan smiles, then slowly leans in to kiss you on the lips. Without thinking, you kiss him back. At first, it’s slow and calm. You place your hands on his neck, pulling him closer, and he moves his hands to your waist, doing the same. He presses you against the sink, and the kiss deepens and quickens. Haechan moves his hands from your waist to your hips. You’re running out of breath and pull away.

"Not here, Haechan…"

Haechan looks at you with dark eyes and slowly nods. He leans back in and kisses you again, but this time more gently.

"Oh my god, guys! You scared me! So this is where you disappeared to!" The door suddenly swings open, and Hendery walks in. You quickly pull away from Haechan and fix yourself, but Haechan seems unfazed that you were caught and quietly laughs at your reaction.

—

Third Game: Mingle!

Huh?

You were standing in a huge hall with carousel horses placed in the center. The host explained the rules while the five of you listened intently. After last night, Haechan stayed even closer to you, almost lying down next to you to protect you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder, protect from who?

The game began.

They spun you around so you nearly fell, but Haechan caught you in time. As you stood there together, a familiar voice echoed:

"Five!"

"We’re five!" Sungchan shouted, and you all ran to the door in a panic.

Everyone was scrambling, rushing to find their groups. You could’ve been left behind, frozen in shock, but Haechan held your hand tightly and pulled you toward the red door with the others.

5… 4…

The five of you quickly squeezed in and shut the door.

3… 2… 1…

Silence.

Standing beside Johnny, you peeked through the peephole to see the remaining players who hadn’t found their groups. Suddenly, you flinched as gunfire erupted. They were being executed one by one. You should’ve been used to this by now, but every time it left you frozen, unable to believe your eyes.

Haechan grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

"I told you not to look. Look at me, only at me. Stay by my side, okay?"

You nodded quickly.

When the door opened, the smell of blood hit you like a wave. Red puddles spread across the floor.

"If people still want to play after this game, I’ll just shoot myself right here," Hendery muttered, walking toward the carousel.

Song began again.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“3!”

The lights flickered, and the room descended into chaos. People were running again, panicked and screaming.

"Sungchan and I will find another group. You three stick together!" Johnny yelled.

You stood frozen, watching your friends, terrified to let them go. But the two guys grabbed your hands and pulled you toward the yellow door.

You barely managed to squeeze through before the timer ended and the door slammed shut.

You rushed to the door, frantically looking for Sungchan and Johnny, but they were nowhere to be seen. You could only hope they were safe.

When you exited, two tall guys immediately approached you.

"You’re alive!" Hendery exclaimed, hugging them.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“4!”

The five of you looked around again when Haechan suddenly shouted:

«Go as a group of four! I’ll find someone on my own»You stared at him in shock, grabbing his hand.

«Are you crazy? I’m going with you!»

Haechan gently removed your hands and smiled.

«Y/N, please go. There’s no time.»

You shook your head, refusing, but Sungchan pulled you away by the arm. You tried to break free, yelling:

“Haechan, no! You idiot, don’t leave me! You promised to stay with me!”

But Haechan disappeared into the crowd. Sungchan managed to push you into a small room just as the door closed.

“No! Open it! Open the damn door!” you banged on the door, desperately peering through the peephole to find Haechan.

In the darkness, everyone looked alike, and with horror, you noticed someone who resembled Haechan. Right in front of you, they were shot. You stumbled backward, tears streaming down your face, and turned sharply to the others.

“What if it was him?! This is all your fault!”

“Y/N, calm down. He’s a smart guy; he must have found a group” Sungchan tried to reassure you.

“I just saw someone get killed! What if it was him?!”you cried hysterically, your vision blurring. You sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, until Hendery approached and carefully tried to comfort you.

“He’s alive, Y/N. It’s going to be okay,” he said gently.

You were on edge, unable to think clearly. The games had pushed you to the brink, and the fear of losing Haechan consumed you. The pain of him leaving you again mixed with the terror of the moment.

When the door opened, Hendery helped you stand. You rushed out, scanning every door, but there was no sign of the one you were looking for.

“Guys!” a familiar voice called from behind.

You turned sharply and saw Haechan. He stood there with an elderly woman and two men.

“I found these wonderful people, and they saved me...” he began.

Before he could finish, you ran to him, throwing your arms around him so tightly it felt like you feared losing him again.

«Hey, Y/N, I’m here. Everything’s okay.»

«Don’t you dare leave me again,» your voice trembled with emotion.

You lifted your head, pouting slightly, and Haechan smiled softly at your adorable expression, brushing his hand over your hair.

“I promise, I won’t leave you.”

“This is the final round!”

“Thank god” Hendery said.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“2!”

Haechan immediately grabbed your hand, pulling you close, and glanced at the others.

“Split up. Only one person is needed here, i can do it” Hendery said and smilled to you.

You and Haechan sprinted toward the door. He opened it and was about to step inside when you suddenly broke free from his grip. Someone shoved you roughly, pushing you aside.

A man dashed past you, slipping into the room with Haechan and slamming the door shut.

You froze, staring in horror at the closed door.

Haechan turned, realizing your hand was no longer in his. When he saw a stranger instead of you, his expression darkened with fury.

“Get out!” he shouted, shoving the man.

“There’s no time!” the man argued, resisting him.

Haechan said nothing. He punched the man in the jaw, then shoved him toward the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

The timer hit zero, and the doors locked.

Haechan stood motionless, staring at the door in disbelief. Then he heard gunshots.

No. No way.

"This is all because of you, asshole."

Haechan furiously lunges at the guy, punching him in the face.

"I’m sorry! I just wanted to survive! I accidentally went into your door!" the guy pleads.

"You pushed her! She was with me!" Haechan yells, continuing to hit him. But he suddenly freezes when he hears the guy’s next words:

"I didn’t push anyone, I swear! I was just running, trying to find someone, and I saw you were alone! Please, stop, don’t hit me!"

The guy covers his face with his hands as Haechan, still holding him by the collar, breathes heavily, staring him down. After a few seconds, the door opens.

Haechan immediately rushes into the hall, frantically scanning it for you. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

"Please, no…" he whispers, panic overtaking him.

A minute earlier.

You stare at the door in terror, watching another guy enter and shut it behind him.

You’re going to die.

You don’t even try to get up in the chaos around you. You’ve accepted it—this is the end. Is this really how it’s going to end? You didn’t even get to do anything with your life.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a hand grabbing yours and pulling you up. You stand and see Hendery in front of you.

"Hendery?"

"Quick, run! There’s only one door left!"

You spot the open green door, and the two of you dash toward it together.

There’s barely any time left, and you’re running as fast as you can.

4… 3…

No. You didn’t want to die. You couldn’t die now.

2…

Hendery pushes you through the door and quickly shuts it behind you.

1…

Click.

"Damn. We made it… I really thought I was going to die back there."

You sit on the floor, wide-eyed, staring at him. Hendery turns to you, his gaze softening.

"God, I’m so sorry. I pushed you too hard. I was panicking—we were so close to running out of time."

He rushes over to you, helping you up and checking for any injuries.

"I’m fine! Really, I’m okay. Thank you for saving me."

"You’re the one who saved me. If I hadn’t seen you, I would’ve died. But, wait… where’s Haechan?"

"Someone pushed me, and he got shoved into a room… That’s how we ended up separated."

"Man, people here are seriously insane."

You laugh and nod in agreement.

As Haechan gets closer to the carousel, he spots you standing next to Hendery. The moment you see him, you both run toward each other.

"Haechan, we made it! Hendery and I are safe!"

"If it wasn’t for her, I’d be dead! Some girl ditched me, and I was in complete panic!" Hendery adds.

But Haechan doesn’t hear a word. He simply pulls you into a tight embrace, breathing shakily. Then he starts inspecting your face and body, searching for any injuries.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you fall? Did he push you too hard?!"

"I’m fine, Haechan. I’m okay."

With a sigh of relief, he hugs you again.

"Don’t ever leave me like that again."

“I won’t i promise.”

note: squid game doesn’t have the end yet thats why this story doesn’t have too…

[babejinxy]

jinx x f!reader christmas special

💙 I know Christmas is over but I couldn't post this before but here it is even though it's a little - very - late.

It was Christmas Eve and you were lying on the edge of Caitlyn's bed with your girlfriend Jinx between your legs. She was kneeling on the floor, your legs spread for her as she ate you out like you were her main meal, which you were. How did you get into that position? Well...

Vi had invited the two of you to her and Caitlyn's house for Christmas dinner. She was trying very hard to get her sister and Caitlyn to work out their differences so that you could all live together as a family. She knew, just like you did, that it wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't going to give up on it so easily.

Jinx on the other hand didn't make the slightest effort to get along with Cait. She wouldn't have accepted Vi's invitation if it weren't for you. She knew you loved Christmas and deserved to have a real Christmas at least once in your life. With plenty of food, presents, decorations, and a real Christmas tree, something you couldn't have in Zaun, and never had.

Earlier you told Jinx that you had to sort out some things in Zaun with Sevika and that made her suspicious, but for the first time she didn't follow you like she always did whenever you went out without her, it wasn't that she didn't trust you, she just didn't trust others. The truth was, you had gone to Piltover alone and stolen a dress from a fancy store that you had seen the other day and planned to wear it to impress your girlfriend. The dress was blue, the same color as Jinx's hair, it was low-cut and long with a slit on the side of the leg that went up almost to your crotch. A scandal of lust and sensuality.

You had arranged to meet her at Vi's at 7:00 pm and of course she was punctual and arrived there at the appointed time. She barely greeted Vi, Cait and the other people present, she asked for you and Vi told her that you were in the guest room on the second floor of the house. Jinx used the shimmer to get to the second floor as quickly as possible and in less than half a second there she was.

She came across you in the middle of the hallway and immediately her magenta eyes devoured you in your provocative and sensual blue dress. This wasn't how you had planned it, but nothing could have been better than what happened next.

The next moment you were against a wall and Jinx was pinning you to it, her hands on each side of your head, framing you. She tilted her head to the side and pulled her lips into a smile - but without showing her teeth - manic and at the same time shameless. Then she took her right hand on your cheeks and squeezed a little, not too hard.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her magenta eyes shining into yours. Your pussy was already aching for her and you felt a wet spot in your panties. “I asked bunny,” she squeezed your face a little tighter this time. “I just… wanted to wear a blue dress like your hair,” she released your face and ran her thumb over your lips as you spoke, “do you like it baby?” you asked in a sultry voice.

Before answering, she pressed your body against hers, putting her head in your neck and biting hard on your sensitive spot, making you gasp. “If I like my hot girlfriend wearing a fucking blue dress? Ha! I’m going to fuck you toots, I’m going to eat you in that dress,” she said in between the kisses and bites she was leaving on your already bruised and marked neck. She got closer to your ear and bit your earlobe, “I’m going to eat you, babe, like I need it to survive.”

As she said that, Jinx grabbed your leg and lifted it up to her waist. You wrapped your leg around hers and once again she devoured the soft skin of your neck while squeezing your thigh. “Baby, someone might see us,” you said between sighs. She ignored what you said and continued sucking and biting your neck harder and harder, not caring about the bruises that formed on your skin.

She brought her left hand to your left tits and began to squeeze it under the fabric. You moaned softly, the pain between your legs bothering you more and more. She moved the hand that was squeezing your thigh up to your crotch and then to the wet spot on your panties. “Hm… so wet, love, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Things definitely didn’t go as planned, the plan was to tease your blue haired girlfriend until midnight and then only after that would you let her do anything to you, but you were too turned on to stop. You needed her and you needed her now. “Baby p-please,” you gasped as she began to massage your swollen clit under the fabric of your soaked panties.

“Please what toots? Tell me,” she said, squeezing your clit as she licked a line from your neck to your jaw. “Please fuck me baby, pretty please,” you begged, whimpering. That's when Jinx took you to a random room - which coincidentally was Cait and Vi's - and threw you on the bed, opening your legs and crouching down between them, and that's exactly how you got to the state you're in now.

You had your hand under your mouth to muffle your continuous moans while the other grabbed the sheets. Your girlfriend was eating you out while fucking you with three of her fingers. The wet sounds of her lips and fingers in your pussy mixed with your muffled moans and together it was like an orchestra to her ears.

“Mmm… God you’re so delicious toots, I love you, I love eating your pussy, I love the way you taste, so fucking sweet and perfect”, she said and then sucked your clit and used the shimmer to speed up the pace of her fingers inside you even more. This made you bite your lower lip hard to keep from moaning too loudly, you tighten your hand under your mouth which hurt.

“Fuck I swear to god I'm going to cum inside you, I'm going to stain you babe.” And saying that, Jinx removed her fingers from inside you and stuck them inside your pants and then she started to fuck herself. You grunted at the lack of her fingers, but moaned when you felt her tongue entering your abused hole. “Mmm… fuck,” she moaned against your pussy as she masturbated.

Soon she came on her fingers and immediately she pulled them out - coated with her cum - from inside herself and inserted them inside your pussy again covering you with her cum. She was dirty, your girlfriend was dirty, but you loved that dirt and it was fucking hot. “Aaah… fuck… you’re squeezing my fingers toots, fuck.” She went back to licking and sucking your burning clitoris and sped up her fingers, curling them inside you and hitting that spongy, delicious spot.

Your legs started to shake and you started to squirm, you grabbed your girlfriend's strands of blue hair - now very short - and you couldn't hold back your moans any longer, you took your hands off your mouth and grabbed the sheet, letting your moans come out very audibly. “Babe I…oh…I’m almost…oh fuck”, you tried to tell her, but before you could form the words, your girlfriend hit all the right spots inside you again and kept slamming her fingers there while still devouring your clit. It was already hurting, but she wouldn’t stop until you came and you were almost there and she knew it.

“I know sugar, come for me baby girl, be a good girl and cover my fingers with your sweet fucking juice,” she said as she still pumped her fingers into you at a relentless speed driven by the shimmer. Jinx swirled her tongue around your clit and then sucked on it as she curled her fingers hitting your sensitive spot once more and then your eyes rolled back and everything went white, you came hard on her fingers and lips.

She removed her fingers from inside your pussy and stuck her tongue in their place, drinking all the juice that fell from inside your destroyed and fucked hole. Your head hit back on the mattress as your body writhed uncontrollably and you bit the palm of your hand to keep from screaming.

“Mmm… you taste like fucking heaven baby, you’re amazing.” Jinx lifted her head and you could see your juices running down her chin and how she licked her lips and fingers as if they were covered in chocolate and you almost came again just from the sight. “Mmmm, it feels so good fuck,” she moaned.

Just as you were calming down from your high, Jinx buried herself between your legs once more and began kissing and licking your red, ruined pussy. You simply couldn’t take it anymore. “Baby, please stop I can’t take it anymore,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Shh, I know you can toots, I need more, I want to eat you all night… god I’m addicted to this.”

You moaned as she began to tease your clit with her tongue again and you grabbed her hair making her moan against your pussy. Jinx slipped a finger inside you with ease and she moaned at the feeling of your walls swallowing her. She inserted a second finger and curled them, hitting the right spot again as she sucked on your clit. “Oh my god Jinx,” you moaned, your body writhing. It was all getting too much and you tried to close your legs, “keep your fucking legs open for me”, Jinx kept your leg open holding it tightly.

She slowed the pace of her skilled fingers and began to fuck you slowly and deeply, curling them every time she hit the spongy spot inside you, her mouth never leaving your clit. “Oh… mmm… Jinx,” you moaned, closing your eyes as your body twitched involuntarily. You were close to cumming for the second time, but the sound of the bedroom door opening broke the moment.

“POWDER!”, it was Vi. She practically screamed at the sight of the two of you. You felt your face flush with embarrassment and quickly got up from the bed, your wobbly legs made you stumble and you held on to Jinx, while you looked for your panties.

“It’s Jinx, how many times do I have to tell you?”, she said, wiping her lips with the back of her hands. Vi shook her head in disbelief at what she had just witnessed and turned her back to you placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe this, seriously? You could have chosen another room to do this in at least.” You looked around and realized it was Cait and Vi’s room and then looked back at Jinx, who had her arms crossed and a frown on her face. “You should have knocked on the door, I would have made my girl cum again if you hadn’t come in like that.”

“JINX!”, it was your turn to scream her name. “What’s wrong baby? You know it’s true, you were moaning my name”. Was she teasing or did she just have no filter? You would never know, but you were embarrassed, so embarrassed. How could you face Vi after being caught by her while her sister fucked you in her bed? “Stop it”, you whispered and Jinx shrugged.

Jinx wrapped her arm around your waist, “we’ll finish this later, love,” she winked at you and bit her lip as she devoured you with her eyes. That would have turned you on, but you were too embarrassed for that. You and Jinx walked past Vi, who looked angry but also embarrassed. “I think you better change the sheets, because well… you know,” she gave one of her wicked laughs and led you out of the room. But before the two of you could go down to dinner, Vi grabbed Jinx’s arm. “No tricks tonight, you hear me?”

Jinx stretched her lips in a dubious smile, “relax sis, it’s Christmas Eve…”

🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.

[olailamajnoon]

Batman, arresting Harley for the umpteenth time: You're going to prison, Quinn.

Harley: You know what I was thinking?

Batman: what.

Harley: That you don't send me to prison. *grins*

Batman:...

Batman: I have no idea what to say to that.

Harley: No, think about it! I could wear my sexy nurse outfit and you me and kitty could have some fun!

Batman: *sighs* As appealing as that prospect is,....

Harley: *low squeal*

Batman: No.

Harley: You need a therapist who can fuck you and tell you about your mommy issues at the same time

Batman: I don't think anyone ever in the history of humanity has needed that.

Harley: (begging) Come on, Bats. They drug me in there! It gets all...spooky sometimes. Not your kind of spooky, the bad kind.

Batman: *hesitating*

Harley: And they feed me pea soup! PEA SOUP!! *kicks a rock and starts crying*

Batman: Quinn, you should have thought of that before you ran away with Ivy and killed the CEO of FutureTech.

Harley, pleading: That was Ivy, not me!

Batman: Uh huh.

Harley: She said he was a plant murderer. And I gotta admit, I wasn't feeling too good myself about him dumping all that toxic waste in the Amazon.

Batman: When things like this happen, you come to me.

Harley: You've never shown interest in plant shit before.

Batman, pinching the bridge of his nose: I can handle it. I know how important 'plant shit' is to Ivy and you. It's important to me too. That's why, next time, before you murder someone, let me handle it legally by scaring the shit out of them first. Okay?

Harley: *hiccups* okay.

Batman: Now. I'll talk to the Arkham parole board about your early conditional release. But I will make sure they give you some truly, spectacularly, horribly disgusting community service.

Harley, desperate: No. Not the garbage route again.

Batman, smiling grimly: Oh it gets worse. Trust me. *begins typing into his phone*

Harley: Oh my god I think I'll just do my time. I'm not going into the trash cans, you don't know the kind of shit people throw out! I think I'll just take my meds and stare at the walls instead.

Batman, looking up from his phone: I'm afraid that ship has sailed. *smiles evilly*

Harley: Oh my fucking shit you monster!

Batman: Remember that feeling the next time your trigger finger itches to pop off a human being.

Harley, gritting her teeth: It's itching now, bitch!

Batman, smugly: Good.

[frannyzooey]

You, and this fic, own me.

This chapter had so much to give!!! I thought it was going to be pure filth and then you hit me with that ending, and I am fucking yearning for these two so goddamn bad (while also being so out of my mind aroused --)

There were so, so many good parts in this one, like the way my mouth fucking dropped open at this:

“Just another reason that maybe you should be inside that church, rather than suckin’ dick in its parking lot."

and THIS:

And so help you god, he’s wearing his tool belt. 

But THIS -- this took the fuckin' cake:

“Then play ‘house’ with me,” you purr, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You can be daddy,” you stroke down his cheek, over his lips, “I can be mommy. And you can try and put a baby in me.”

I was literally levitating at this line. ROCKETING TOWARDS THE MOON!! I was also so in love with how light and free and fun their fucking and teasing was -- the way they just slide into role play like it's no goddamn thing had me grinning ear to ear

Annnnnnnnnd then you hit me with the emotions:

The discordance stirs in your stomach. Right now, you’re actually witnessing the loving-husband-turned-infidel façade weave its way through his marriage. He’s asking her to leave…for you. To free up time to be with you. Under the guise of caring for her. 

You wish it made you feel worse. It just feels…uncomfortable to actually view firsthand.

I literally cannot even imagine what it would feel like to witness the deception happening first hand, and it's something that a lot of cheating fics don't explore? (and I should know 😌)...the way you treated this scene was literal perfection because you brought so much nuance to his emotions. He's being deceptive, but not a manipulative gross creep like this situation is often portrayed. He genuinely hurts....yet does it anyway. I'm obsessed with this scene because you're doing such a good job extending Joel, as a man, the same grace that people often give to the reader in these types of stories. They empathize with the reader feeling bad but doing it anyway, but they often villainize the man, or assume he doesn't feel as bad, ya know? Anyway, just me waxing on about your beautiful brain ❤️

I had all these amazing thoughts about your writing skills....and then they all leaked from my brain when I read this:

You: Yours is the only mouth I want sucking on these titties right now, daddy 👅

You fix your sweater and peer back through your peephole, just to see his face collapse in arousal, grinding the heel of his palm over the crotch of his jeans.

I know the desk fucking scene was so taboo and so filthy, but I felt so, so fucking soft when he said this:

setting the frame down in front of you before yanking your hair at the root and slamming his hand down next to the photo. “You stare at that girl while daddy’s tearin’ apart your slutty little asshole. Remind her that she deserves better than that piece a’shit.”

I live for this line 😭😭

And then this -- this -- was perfection:

“Baby,” he takes your face in his hands again, his expression edging on broken. On your behalf. “What has this fuckin’ monster done to you? My girl from the bar, she knew what she was fuckin’ worth. And she’d let you know it. She came first, and she didn’t apologize for it or accept anything less. What did he do to that fuckin’ girl?”

“Maybe it wasn’t all him."

I could literally envision the look on his face when she said that. What a fucking LINE, Katy and then to have it followed with her speech about how Jack isn't a monster, he's just a man??

The way you are out here giving the depth to this trope that it needs has me SAT and quite frankly, green with envy

This chapter was so fucking good 💀💀💀 ily ❤️

Good Neighbors | (joel miller x f!reader) (18+)

Part Three of Four

✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧A fic inspired by Fortnight by Taylor Swift✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧

Part One | Part Two

summary: your affair with joel heats up with a week of uninterrupted bliss. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no outbreak!au, age gap (joel is 48, reader is 32), joel x ofc (no sexual content), reader x omc (pitiful sexual content), infidelity, daddy!kink, fingering, unprotected PIV, unprotected anal, oral (m! and f!receiving), degradation!kink, praise!kink, brief roleplaying, unashamed sexualization of the term "kiddo", discussions of SA and domestic abuse, marital discussions regarding mismatched desires on having children, reader struggles with body image as a result of her abusive husband, unhealthy/toxic age gap marriage. this chapter is a much needed break from Jack. immersion notes: reader has hair, wears dresses/makeup, and is considered a "trophy wife" type. additionally, reader is specifically implied to be conventionally thin. apologies to anyone for whom this kills immersion for, but it felt very necessary in the context of the story. word count: ~11.6k a/n: wanted to give the lovebirds a little part that's primarily fun times before shit hits the fan <3 So there will be one more chapter!

Available Only to Registered Users on AO3

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I was tagged by the very lovely @demonicfaerie so here is an angry stiles blurb that I dont exactly know what to do with but that I really wanted to get the idea down.

This is based on my headcannon that stiles and Jackson actually have know each other the longest. And that Jackson is the only other person who knows stiles real name.

The pack makes jokes about Stiles, saying that he never really gets angry, sure he gets defensive but never angry. Until the day Jackson calls Stiles by his name.

After the whole kanima disaster, Derek moves forward trying to connect to his betas. Including Jackson. Especially since now that he is a werewolf which shifts the dynamics because technically he’s now Derek’s first beta.

One afternoon during pack training when tensions were raising higher than usual. The pack had devolved into using grunt and growls as form of communication. Snarling with a little to much teeth.

So Stiles, in Stiles fashion begins making sarcastic remarks to try and settle the situation. After Jackson take a hard tumble with fighting Derek, Stiles quips about Jackson still being a fake werewolf. Especially after spending so much time in lizard scales.

Jackson spits blood from his mouth, turns to him, anger rolling in his chest. A self satisfied smirk forming as the words drip from this lips. — you would know all about fake identities, wouldn’t you Mieczyslaw.” — Stiles goes deathly still and the air shifts. Like the moment before lighting strikes.

The pack is immediately on edge. Derek makes his way towards stiles. The hair on the back on his neck standing up, putting his arms out as if he’s trying to calm down a wild animal. The way Stiles chest heaves with exertion like a cornered, feral animal. Derek knows what it’s like to watch a predator prepare to strike.

Derek swears he doesn’t see Stiles move. One second Stiles was standing on his porch steps, body tense like a spring coil about to snap. In the next second Jackson is on the ground with Stiles on top of him and the smell of blood in the air.

Lydia is shrieking for Stiles to get off Jackson. The betas step backwards from the carnage. They want to help but all their instincts are begging them to flee.

And Stiles is screaming, between the sounds of fist hitting flesh, — you don’t get to call me that — Stiles is screaming — I’ll rip your tongue from your fucking mouth. — stiles keeps hitting Jackson — That name belonged to my mother — just repeating over and over again. Stiles is screaming.

It takes Derek and Boyd to pull him off Jackson, even so he fights against their hold. It was surprising to the werewolves, the fact that they were struggling. Stiles was going rabid between them, still screaming — let me go, I’m going to rip his throat out with my teeth — and Jackson was still on the ground, not healing, covered in blood.

Derek barks out and order to get Jackson to Deaton or Melissa or both as fast as possible. Boyd slowly releases Stiles just in case he’s needed to grab him again. The minute the hold on him slacks fighting is throwing himself towards Jackson again. Derek barely catches him.

While the betas clear out, Derek throws stiles over his shoulder. Stiles still fighting against his hold. It’s only as Derek steps into his bedroom and sets Stiles on his bed, does he calm down. It’s like all the fight drains from his body.

Instead panic takes its place. Stiles fights to breathe with the same vengeance as he did Jackson. Clumps of broken sentences echo out between his sobs — not his, not his, nothis, nothisnothisnothisno ��� the more panicked he gets, the faster it comes out.

Derek holds him until the panic subsides and a there nothing left but silence.

The pack doesn’t mention Stiles’ breakdown the next day, or the next. And Stiles likes pretends like nothing happened. Everyone else would to, except for the fact that Jackson is barely healing, healing slower than a healthy human would. Stiles smile is a tad bit to tight and the pack is a tad bit too cautious of him.

They also don’t mention the fact that the bruises only go away after Jackson apologizes. Even so they don’t really make jokes anymore.

[max-the-many]

Hello, I need your help. My best friend got cheated by her boyfriend, an homophobic douchebag that is in love with himself. He always makes fun of me when she is not looking and now he cheated on her.Can you give him his money back? Trapping him inside a gay bottom twink or something? Your pice will be mine. He deserves the worst for what he did!

When I read this I was hooked immediately. Not that I really cared to be honest. I mean, it is bad what he did, but for me, it was mostly an excuse. There's something really satisfying dealing with such a guy.

So I got on the road the same night. Luckily it wasn't that far. Antony even gave me the name of a bar where that guy frequently hung out so as it was friday, the urge to get there was even stronger.

When I got in, I couldn't see him based on the pictures Anthony provided. So I sat down to have a drink. The bar was moderately busy and I looked around, wondering if anyone could maybe help as there surely would be several knowing Lyle.

So eventually I started chatting to a guy sitting next to me. He actually knew Lyle, but just barely from the bar. He showed me another dude, though, that should be closer to Lyle.

It probably was a bit weird to ask about him like that even though I pretended to wait for him. But that guy didn't seem to care.

So I didn't care either, especially when that friend of Lyle went to the restrooms.

‘Why not’ I thought, going after him.

When I got in, he stood infront of a pissoir, his body nicely framed, a bit leaner than Lyle but easily some kind of gymbuddy.

‘Classic’ I thought when I saw him there, the room otherwise empty besides a closed stall.

But this wouldn't be the first time I acted in such a situation so I stepped to the urinal besides him, prepared to hit him with a shot as soon as he was finished, dragging him into the next stall, making sure not to be too rampant.

As he was sitting on the toilet seat infront of me I really got excited. He really wasn't the worst to slip in. Short hair, stumbled face, sporty, wearing a casual T and rather tight jeans which I was happy to get off now.

Seeing him naked, getting flatter and flatter only added to the appeal while I got naked myself.

As I eventually stepped out in my new persona the guy from the other stall was washing his hands, watching me suspiciously.

“What is it?" I hit him, getting quite the kick on speaking with my new voice the first time, but the other guy didn't reply.

Back in the bar nothing much had changed. So I went to the guys I saw my new persona with. Turned out to be a pretty good source of information, giving me quite some insight of Lyle though they probably exaggerated as he probably did to them as well. But after that I was pretty sure that he wasn't cheating just that one time. Unfortunately it turned out that he wouldn't be in the bar tonight. But this shouldn't be a problem at all as I got his address, making a bit of a fool of myself as the guy I was in probably would have known it already.

After another drink I eventually heading out, searching for the car the keys in my pocket belonged to. Took quite a while to be honest.

10 minutes later I stood in front of a small bungalo. Light was on. So I stopped onto the porch.

“Lyle?” I knocked. But nothing happened. When I listened at the door I could clearly hear voices, movement. So I knocked again louder. “Lyle, common! It's Keith!” I added.

Another moment passed until I heard footsteps. Then the door opened.

“What the fuck!” was passed along while a topless Lyle appeared, having his belt open, clearly coming from some business he wasn't keen on being disturbed from.

“You got company?” I asked cheekily which he answered with an annoyed nod.

And I don't know what really crossed my mind, but more on instinct than on a clear plan I quickly reached into my pocket, pulled out a syringe and stuck it into his waist before he could even begin to wonder.

I smiled, pushed my way in and looked around.

“What just…Keith?”

A girl was sitting on a couch separating the entrance to a living area, turning her head at the scene I was providing, just wearing a bra and clearly not being his girlfriend.

“Ah! I'm sorry. He seemed to have forgotten our plans” I said, taking the steps towards her to give her another shot as she was frozen in irritation.

“Caught in the act” I smiled, walking around the couch to get a good look. She was quite cute with long, dark blonde hair and good equipment under her bra.

As I saw them both, now on their way to be good suits, an idea came to mind. Something I haven't done or even thought of so far. But when it got to my mind I had no other chance than to do it. It was just the perfect opportunity.

So I got to Lyle dragged him to the couch before getting him naked, doing the same to his date. Then came the tricky part, but I really was determined.

A good half an hour, it was ready. Sitting on the couch, just wearing her tight slip was that girl. Or should I say, both of them, neatly tied up on hand and feet.

“What…” she got out, clearly still busy. But as she let out her first words a certain look came on to her eyes.

“Where…” again she froze, looking around and finally down at herself.

“What is this! What…” she let out again, not able to process the situation, finally looking at me.

“Keith, what is this! And why am I… my voice… my…” she said looking down at herself. Or should I say, himself.

“Isn't it nice to see the world from a new perspective for once?” I said, looking at her with a devious smile before coming closer.

“She got quite the bod” I said “Isn't she?” while my hand slid over her voluminous breasts.

“Don't!” he stuttered.

“Or what? You seemed to liked her pretty much” I replied “and I can't complain. That face, those tits, and not to miss what awaits down there” I said, stroking along her body before diving between her legs.

“What… ahh” he let out in a mixture of anger and discontent.

“Don't you wonder what pleasures all those chicks get with your manly work?”

His eyes widened. “You…” was all he was able to get out before I pulled up the cloth around his neck, limiting him to nothing more than muffled sounds when I took his hand to lead it towards my crotch.

“We will have a lot of fun”...

---

Whomever sent this request. Feel free to reach out.

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (4)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, John Walker bashing

How to cure a grump (3)

“That audacity,” Bucky angrily mutters. “How dare he talk to you! He should be ashamed of himself and his actions!”

You blink a few times. What happened not minutes ago was mind-boggling. Your former boss, the grumpiest person you ever met, kissed you to save you from embarrassment.

“Why?” You whisper so no one but Bucky can hear you question his intentions. His help surely comes with a price. “What do you want?”

“What?” He furrows his brows, still lost in thoughts, as he watches John and his fiancé walk past your mother.

Your former boyfriend greets your mom, earning an angry look and no response. If it was up to her, he’d lie on the ground bleeding, and his teeth missing.

“We should get the things your mother wanted you to get. Give me the list,” Bucky says. He snatches the list out of your hands as you stand there, frozen to the spot. “You can pay the stuff here, and I’ll get the rest.”

Bucky walks out of the store, nodding at your mother as he hurriedly makes his way toward the next store.

Almost done with your mother’s list, Bucky walks toward the last store. He carries around the paper bags filled with more things your mother needed for dinner.

“It’s you again,” John smirks as Bucky wants to pass him by. It was already a long day. He’s cold and tired. Not to forget, he kissed his former employee and liked it. “I didn’t think she’d find a new guy anytime soon. Not after she lost me.”

John Walker hates losing. Watching Bucky kiss you in public, in front of people knowing him, and you made John furious. He doesn’t care that he ended your relationship and cheated on you. John Walker is the kind of guy wanting to eat his cake and keep it.

“What do you mean, with a guy like you?” Bucky dips his head. “The kind of guy promised a woman marriage and a future only to cheat on her with a cheap imitation?”

John’s face contorts in anger. “A good catch like me. Business owner, house owner, a stallion in the bed.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Usually, when guys tell you they are good in bed, they are quick shots and can’t satisfy a woman.”

“Say,” John leans closer to look Bucky up and down, “does she still only want to fuck with the lights out? She’s a frigid little thing, isn’t she.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. It takes anything in him to not throw the paper bags at John.  He won’t throw punches but fight dirty. “Not with me,” Bucky says, smirking. “I can understand she only wanted to have sex with you in the dark. With a face like yours in front of her, she must’ve been unwell all the damn time…”

John gapes at your former boss, who holds his gaze, still smirking. Without another word, Bucky walks past John, hearing people laugh about John who throws a tantrum like a toddler, calling Bucky names.

“He did what?” The moment you came back home, the phone wouldn’t start ringing. Your aunt was first to call to tell you what Bucky said to John. It didn’t change your mind about your former boss but made you chuckle.

Next was your neighbor across the street. They watched with amusement when John was taken down a peg by your former boss.

Six calls later, you are snorting because it’s John’s fiancée, asking you to tell Bucky to apologize to John. “Yeah, not going to happen, darling. If you’d excuse me now, we are in the middle of our Christmas preparations.”

You ended the call before she could say another word.

“Who was it this time?” Your mother chuckles as you try not to laugh. Of course, she enjoyed every call. Bucky fought fire with fire, and she likes him even better because of it. “Come on, Munchkin. Tell me who it was.”

“John’s fiancée,” you snort. “She wanted James to apologize to John for calling him a quick shot and that he’s got an ugly face.”

She shrugs and says, “What is true, has to remain true. James was right, and people love him for it. Mrs. Applebaum from the end of the street even clapped her hands. You must love James.”

“Mom,” you sigh, deep and exasperated. How can you reveal now that your mother likes your former boss so much, that you hate him? “Please don’t tell him that you love him.”

“Who loves who?” Bucky casually walks inside the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed that you got flustered around him on the trip back to your mother’s house. “I parked the car.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” your mother coos and winks at Bucky. “I know it’s a bummer they didn’t have a free room for you, but you can stay here for Christmas. We have more than enough space and food. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you say, even though, you feel like this is a conspiracy between your mother and your former boss. “Uh—I’ll check on the heating and if we got enough wood for the fireplace.

“Munchkin,” your mother says, “why don’t you show James around the house? He hasn’t seen much of it.”

You give up and simply nod. Whatever you say would only hurt your mother’s feelings. If you must, you’ll play pretend over Christmas. You can always tell her that you and Bucky split up. The last thing you want is to ruin Christmas for your mom.

“Alright, show me around Y/N,” Bucky smirks at you. He’s enjoying this too much for your liking. “I can hardly wait to see every nook at your home.”

You grit your teeth but say nothing. Every word would only make your mother suspicious or cause a fight between you and your former boss.

So, you bite your tongue and politely ask him to follow you, murder in your eyes.

“Your mom is very nice,” he says while walking next to you. “What do you want to show me first?”

You walk upstairs, guiding Bucky away from your mother. You’re seething and can’t hold back any longer.

Grabbing him by his jacket, you push Bucky against the wall next to your room. “What kind of game are you playing?” You accuse. “I know you’re having a blast lying to my mom, but if you dare to make fun of her home, I’ll castrate you.”

“Whoa,” he yelps when you slam your fist into the wall beside his head. “When I said your mom is nice, I meant it. She invited me in and let me stay at her home for free. I’d never make fun of her or her home.”

“Good.” You step away from Bucky, exhaling deeply to calm down. “Listen, this is an odd situation. If you want to stay here for Christmas, it’s fine by me. I owe you for John and…you know.”

Bucky doesn’t mention the kiss, and you're thankful for it. “How about you show me the rest of the house, and we discuss how we keep on pretending to be in love…”

Tags in reblog.

[two-white-butterflies]

gave you all my best me's (ii)

Description: Aemond tries to figure out if his feelings are real. A revelation sends this house of cards crumbling down.

Pairing: (past! jacaerys velaryon/reader), aemond targaryen/reader

PART ONE ||

Aemond takes a nervous bite of his mini-Oreos. It's been a week since he introduced you to his family, and all his relatives have been sending him kind messages. However, his father has refused to return all of his calls. Nothing new, he muses.

"Are you okay, hun?" You sit beside him, and the sofa slightly shifts to accommodate your shared weight. "Yeah," he responds reluctantly. He doesn't exactly know how to feel. He sometimes looks at you and thinks about turning this relationship into a real thing, but then, he remembers your conversation with Jacaerys on the balcony...

Everything has been so blurry and difficult lately.

What if Jacaerys suddenly calls, and you pick up, and everything returns to where you left it off?

"It's just been a tough couple of weeks," he reasons.

But he knows that the feelings that thump inside of his ribcage are far too complex to explain. "Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, and he shakes his head.

.

.

.

nameofficial posted to her story!

caption: with mr lover lover 😎 song: Boombastic by Shaggy

.

.

.

YOU are you aight you been pushing me away lately :((

AEMOND TARGARYEN I'm a little busy with work We're releasing a new phone this month

YOU does this have something to do with the jacaerys thing?

AEMOND TARGARYEN Ofc not xx I respect you It's not like we have a 'real' relationship

seen.

.

.

.

Your eyebrows merged together in fury.

It's not like we have a 'real' relationship.

You continued to stare at his message. Actually, you were glaring at your phone - until it suddenly fell on your face.

"Shit," you cursed. "Fuck," you continued.

The fact that Aemond wasn't entirely lying pierced your heart. Your feelings for him have blossomed these past few months, you didn't need a verbal reminder that this was all contractual. That he only chose to be pretend married to you because it meant inheriting his father's fortune. You are not important to him.

Thanks for the reminder, Aemond.

.

.

.

You were pleasantly surprised when Alicent invited you for a cup of tea. Aemond told you that his mother kept to herself, she only talked to people inside her small circle. You remember that the only thing that she acknowledged you with were small smiles and nods, but it's good that she's finally warming up to you.

I mean...you are going to be her pretend daughter-in-law.

"I am sure that you are not unfamiliar with the way our family conducts our business," Alicent begins the conversation, taking a leisurely sip of her tea. "- it's a new age, but some of our members are still stuck in the past." She gives you a thin-lipped smile.

What was she going to say next? She voted for Hillary Clinton in the last election. "- especially my husband. He is a traditional man. Before we got married, I was in my third year of medical school. I wanted to be a pediatrician, but he gave me an ultimatum, told me it was either him or being a pedia, and I chose him." She speaks with regret.

"Pardon?" You raised an eyebrow, unaware of where this conversation was leading. "My husband knows there are charges against you by the Spanish Government, which is easy to fix, but there is a stain on your reputation. You are not the kind of woman that he finds worthy of being a member of our family. He will not allow your wedding to pull through, and if it happens, Aemond stands to inherit nothing." Alicent explains with a deep breath.

You wanted to tell her that you were no longer here for the money, but Aemond would want the inheritance, right?

Alicent reaches for her handbag, dropping an envelope of cash to cover the bill for this tea party. She reaches for your hand, holding it with both of hers. "Please stay away from my son," she begs. "- you can find another husband, but I cannot find another him." Alicent pleads, not wanting her son to fall in his ranks in society.

Reputation means everything to people like them.

"Yes, of course." You forced yourself to agree.

It's what Aemond wants.

"Please don't mention this to him. I love him, but he doesn't love me enough to abandon you." You took a deep breath. She reaches for her handbag again, writing you a check for millions of dollars but you shake your head.

"- he'll have kids in the future with a woman that isn't me, but someone that you think is proper enough for him. You won't even remember my name by then. I don't need money, Mrs. Targaryen. I'm happy to have been here." You removed your engagement ring, placing it on the table.

"Thank you," she looks up with a sad smile.

"Thank you too," you answered, leaving without looking back.

.

.

.

AEMOND TARGARYEN Where are you? I bought some pad thai

.

.

.

AEMOND TARGARYEN Are you still there?

.

.

.

AEMOND TARGARYEN My mom told me I'm sorry Let's talk

.

.

.

YOU MISSED A CALL FROM AEMOND TARGARYEN. (39)

.

.

.

(ONE YEAR LATER)

WHY DID Y/N L/N DISAPPEAR?

It has been one year since singer Y/N L/N was last seen wandering around New York City. Thirteen months ago, MTV announced that her engagement with tech-CEO Aemond Targaryen had broken off. A close friend alleges that their breakup was amicable, and the couple were just heading towards different paths in life.

A year ago, Y/N L/N deactivated her social media accounts.

Six months ago, all charges by the Spanish government against her were dropped, citing that it was a third-party accounting firm that caused the mismanagement of funds. L/N was let go with a minor fine. It has been radio silence for quite some time now, but according to a few insiders, the singer is seen roaming NYC once more...

Why did she disappear? And why is she back?

.

.

.

nameofficial: i stayed there.... THANK YOU FOR INVITING ME AND @luciechurchill!! @taylorswift. i love you so much ❤️

liked by 2,128,321 others

>comments

taylorswift: I'm so glad you enjoyed the era's tour 💙💙💙💙💙 - nameofficial: twas absolute cinema 🤯

Y/NSUPPORT: SHE'S BACK !!! and she's paid her taxes 🇪🇸

BigBlueEyes6: Y/N stays the queen of the revolution 🇪🇸 bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao 👺

.

.

.

replies:

sexybaliye: I HAVE BEEF WITH HIM BECAUSE HE TOOK HER THIRD ALBUM AWAY FROM US 😭 MY ASS WILL FOREVER MOURN LOVER - applepie59: BYE...Karma by TS is Lover in a diff font - sexybaliye: Albums that will never be released LOL

hauntedasshome8: I'm not heartbroken....also me: Y/N L/N

.

.

.

nameofficial: I love the crowd in Nashville. I'm so happy to be opening the ERA'S TOUR by @taylorswift. ❤️

liked by 1,329,921 others

>comments

comments have been restricted.

.

.

.

"How long are you going to keep attending the concerts?" Aegon sits on one of the ottomans. He gives his brother a lazy smile before callously lighting his cigarette - knowing that he wouldn't get into trouble because his grandfather owned the hotel. "Why are you so curious about it?" Aemond rolls his eyes.

"I find it kind of weird that you leave after the opener," Aegon comments. "- don't you want to talk to her?" Aegon inquires.

"She looks fine," Aemond breathes. He doesn't want to ruin your quit life just because he dreams of being in your arms again. If you've moved on, then he has no choice but to follow in your footsteps.

"I've been analyzing her note changes," Aegon puffs.

"You pay attention to that?" Aemond raises an eyebrow.

Aegon chuckles annoyingly, as if he was your biggest fan. "When she says lay on the horn, there's a slight change in her voice, which probably means that it haunts her." He quotes your lyrics. "- in one of the surprise songs, she looked really sad when singing about the snow globe spinning round and round." Aegon continues his analysis.

He looks at Aemond again, who is looking at him with a strange stare. "Men are so stupid," Aegon stands up - he rolls his eyes before leaving the room and slamming the door loudly.

.

.

.

Aemond continues to watch you from the front row, he's already memorized your routine by now. He takes a sip of the beer that Aegon smuggled inside, and everyone cheers around him - seeing your faint figure begin to march towards the front stage.

"This song is going to be a part of my third studio album, I figured that I should share it with all of you first." You smile, strumming your guitar. "The apartment we won't share. I wonder what sad wife lives there." You begin your song. "Have the windows deciphered her stares? Do the bricks in the walls know to hide the affairs?" You walked around.

Freezing once you see him.

Aemond Targaryen in the flesh.

"The dog we won't have is now one I would not choose. The daughter we won't raise still waits for you." You walked past him. You could attend a million interviews after this and swear to god that you're not over him, but you'd be lying. Because you still love him. You still love all the ways that he'd massage your scalp.

"The girl I won't be is the one that's yours. I hope you shortly find what you long for." You glanced at him again. Seeing him feels like getting electrocuted. It makes you happy but at the same time really, really sad because you know that he doesn't feel the same way. "A year and some change. Isn't it strange?" You looked at him.

One word and you'll come running back to him.

"I'm sure she's beautiful and sweet." You continued strumming your guitar. "But you're the only thing I need," you change the lyrics, your voice beginning to fade in the background.

.

.

.

Aemond nervously bounces his legs, and a few security guards escort him backstage - and now he's waiting for you to finish your last song. He fidgets with the engagement ring inside his palms. It's a family heirloom, a ring that Alicent gave him that came from his grandmother, Alerie.

"Aemond," you say with a reluctant voice. "Y/N," He breathes, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, taking in the sight of him. "Let's get back together, please," he begged, offering you the ring that was inside of his palms. "What are you talking about? I thought that wasn't part of the deal, your dad won't leave you anything." You stared deep into his eyes.

"I love you," he confesses.

"The day that you left, I wanted to tell you." He adds.

"I only left because I thought that you didn't feel the same way," your frown deepened.

A chuckle escapes your mouth, truly in disbelief at how the tides shifted in your favor.

He drops on one knee.

"Marry me," he says.

"Of course," you agree.

Meeting his lips with fiery passion.

.

.

.

nameofficial: I take this magnetic force of a man to be my LOVER.

liked by 3,812,923 others

>comments

bananalols: ok what happened to hello, how are you?

helaenatargaryen: Congratulations sis and bro!! 🧡

Nour192: UMM THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED...

.

.

.

aemondtargaryensapphires: Happy wedding.

liked by 123,182 others

>comments

comments have been disabled.

.

.

.

nameofficial: I'm so happy to make it with you ❤️

liked by 3,239,192 others

>comments

imthatbitch2: Congrats, we didn't even know that u were engaged lols

HundredBoys82: What ever makes u happy...boo?

ColossalTitan: MRS LOVER LOVER

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @mxxny-lupin @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd @sumsumcooluser @rebstrg @bladestark @ninihrtss @julczimozart @narahwolfqueen16

REQUESTS FOR THE BONUS FLUFF PARTS ARE AVAILABLE just send them on my inbox!!

[andr33yy]

Smut is good, but yk what's better? First kisses.

So hear me out - Cherik first kiss hc.

Obviously it happen during their roadtrip. After sucsesfully recruiting Angel, they get back to their hotel a little tipsy, so they decide to let loose completely with another bottle of champagne. After all, it's deserved.

Hours pass, the sparkly liquid flows and they soon find themselves pleasently loosened. Erik's alchocol tolerance is worse than university-party-animal Charles's, so he finds it easier to talk about himself. A sad story here, a funny memory there and they've come to the topic of relationships.

When Charles asks him about his first kiss, Erik admits he's never kissed anyone and doesn't know how to do it(bc his life has been a constant fight or flight mode).

"I can teach you." Xavier says without a second thought in his dizzy brain. Erik was enormously attractive and as alchocol erased his shyness, Charles decided to shoot his shot. If he'll get declined, he can just blame it on alchocol in the morning or claim to not remember anything at all.

Erik felt dumbfounded for a while, but soon decided "fuck it, why not?" They're both in good spirits, they both have a decent amount of alchocol in their systhems and he feels the safest with Charles anyways.

At first it feels awkward as they're sitting infront of each other. Charles can tell Erik's nervous. "Don't think about it too much. Just go with the flow." Xavier incourages. Next thing he feels is a quick peck on the corner of his lips, "Like this?"

"Almost. Let me lead at first and then repeat after me." he says, hiding trembeling exitement behind drunk boldness. He gently cups his friends jaw with one hand, bringing him closer. Just as mere inches seperate the two men, Charles lidded gaze meets other's eyes, reading pure adoration. His sea-blues fall at the sight of Erik's lips one last time before he closes both - his eyes and the distance between them.

The kiss is soft, gentle and exciting. It tastes like bitter-sweet champagne. Neither are rushing anywhere, hoping to stay like this longer. As telepath slowly moves along, his hand travels to Eriks nape, deepening the kiss. Neither can tell whether only few seconds or a lifetime passes before Charles slowly draws back, noticing Erik slightly chase after the crimson lips.

The pupils are blown, breaths are heavy and eyes are lidded. "Now your turn." Xavier says with his classic, cheesy smile and only few seconds later, the soft lips find each other again.

The next morning they find themselves sleeping next to each other, halfway dressed and with an empty bottle of champagne on the ground. As the memories seep back into Charles mind, he turns to his friend apologetically and begins to ramble "Erik, I'm sorry. You probably think foolish of me-"

"No, quite the opposite." Lehnsherr replies in half asleep state, "All that teaching and I still feel in need of practice. Mind showing me how it's done again?~"