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knight-of-flowerss · 5 months ago

Text

His Prize

I seem to have the Cregan Stark Fever-

NSFW

Masterlist

The Northmen returned to Winterfell with their King, excited to see their families again.

But it wasn’t all in vain, Cregan Stark returned with a promise that was fulfilled on both sides. He would help the Queen in return of a marriage.

Queen Rhaenyra offered a marriage to her daughter, an alliance this strong would ensure their loyalty for eternity.

I sat upon the back of a gorgeous black mare, a silky black mane contrasting with your long, silver locks, matted in her ceremonial braids after a long ride to Winterfell.

Her large, string frame, built for work, strode in line with the Northmen, your newly wedded husband riding beside you on a beautiful white gelding, your powerhouse of a bourse towering over Cregan’s race-battle horse.

He looked relaxed and comfortable on top of his smaller horse, his gaze fixed on the trail infront of him but often breaking off to glance at your face from time to time.

Winterfell was a large place, not as big as Dragonstone or Kingslanding but still large enough to intimidate anyone crossing or passing it’s threshold.

As they passed through the castle gates, the guards look at you with a look of recognition, not one you were use to back home but a curious recognition as they acknowledged the princess’ beauty.

Your once confident demeanour was replaced with embarrassment as every man, woman and child’s gaze was fixated upon you, your arrival bringing shocked looks to their faces.

Cregan noticed your demeanour change and he chuckled, a smirk forming on his face as he slowed down his horse and leaned towards you slightly, despite the height difference of your horses, you seem to be the same height.

“What happened to that fierce confidence you used to carry around, little princess?”

Your eyes flickered towards the large, bulky man that you now called your husband, your eyes raking up his body and landing on his face before replying,

“It’s just such a change from my home your grace, everyone who knows my name isn’t used to my presence unlike back at home.”

He chuckled softly, taking in your gaze as it roamed over his body, before he reached out a gloved hand to her, offering her a small smirk.

“You don’t have to call me ‘your grace’, darling. We are equals here.”

A shiver rose up your spine as you locked your eyes onto his gloved hand,

“I can’t help it your grace, it’s always been a habit of mine to respect others and use their titles.”

He continued to smirk, taking your hand in his and bringing it in the middle of them, his thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles. His body leaned in further towards her, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone,

“The I suppose I’ll just have to break you out of that habit, darling.”

A warm blush came to your cheeks, you tore your hand away from his in shyness and looked up infront of you and saw men signalling where to stop and get off our horses. You stopped at a halt and waited for the Northmen to fetch the steps for you to climb down.

But as I was waiting, Cregan had exited his horse and walked around your mare, he offered his left hand for you to grab as his right hand gripped your hip, helping you down.

Cregan stood there with a shit eating smirk, his eyes roaming over her body before looking up at your face, his smirk softening into a more gentle expression.

Once you were fully off the horse, he still didn’t remove his hands from your hips, still holding you close to him as he tilted his face to the side and studied your blushing face.

“My, my, what a lovely shade of pink on your cheeks, darling.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, you quickly diverted your eyes and let your silver locks flow over your face, covering your cheeks.

He chuckled again, amusement shining in his eyes as he watched you try to hide your blushing face. His hand gently rubs your hip through the fabric of your dress. He took a step closer to you, his body practically pressing against yours as he reached forward with his other hand and gently pushed the hair out of your face, his fingers tracing your jaw.

“Now, now, darling, why try to hide such a pretty blush? Hmmm?”

Your breathe hitches in your throat as he touches your jaw,

“My Lord, we really should get inside, my cheeks are merely flushed due to the coldness of the outside. It is freezing out here and it’s only going to get colder. We can warm up inside.”

You made up any excuse you could muster to get out of the situation. It’s not like you didn’t like having the King in the North doting on you, he was well mannered but quite forward, not that you necessarily minded, but you can’t handle others eyes on you, especially in intimate moments.

You enjoyed Cregan’s touch, he was a handsome and compelling man. A Stark. He had these eyes that could either make you shake in fear or knock your knees as you melt in his gaze.

He was attractive in every single sense possible. But you had just been wed off to him without a second thought from your mother and step-father, your own brother didn’t even protest.

You couldn’t give into his gaze just because he was your attractive husband.

He raised an eyebrow at your excuse, not fully believing it but he decided not to make a big deal out of it. He withdrew his hand from your jaw and took a step back, giving you some space as he took in your face once more, a hint of disappointment in your eyes.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right, it is rather could out here little dragon.”

He turned on his heel and began leading the way inside the castle, not glancing back to see if you were following.

You followed Cregan inside, his long legs taking fast strides and putting your legs to work to try and keep up with his fast pace. Eventually we had reached the large double doors.

Cregan pushed open the doors and led you inside , the sounds of the castle instantly filling your ears. Servants and guards hurried about, doing their assigned tasks.

Cregan walked with purpose, his steps large and strong as he walked towards the Lord’s chambers.

You looked around the hall briefly before you followed Cregan to a small corridor. Where was he going?

“Uhm.. my Lord? Where are we going? We walked through the hall and feast.”

Cregan didn’t stop walking, his pace still steady as he turned his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder, a smirk gracing his lips,

“Impatient, aren’t you, darling? I’m taking you to your new chambers.”

He turned his head forwards again as we had reached a big door, a servant stood outside the room and told Cregan that the room and a hot bath was prepared for him inside.

Cregan turned to the servant and nodded his head in thanks, the servant scurrying off and left the two of you alone.

He turned his gaze to you, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down.

“This will be your room from now on, darling. You’ll be living with me. Alone.”

You stuttered as your head shot up, my eyes staring into his, a mischievous glint dancing around his eye.

“Are you really sure we should be sharing chambers so soon my Lord? We have known eachother all but 2 years and in those two years we’ve only had a handful of interactions before we were wed, are you sure you’re comfortable with us sharing a room together?”

His smirk turned into a full blown smile, his eyes fixated on your face as he toon you in. Oh, you were feisty, he could tell that much.

“Oh, absolutely, darling. I assure you, I’m more than comfortable with it. Very comfortable, in fact.”

He took a step towards you, his smile never wavering as he continues speaking,

“Besides, we’re already married. I see no reason to delay such matters any longer.”

“If you truly wish, your grace.”

You looked up at him with large doe eyes, your lavender iris’s searching his metallic ones.

“Perhaps we should go inside the room and freshen up my Lord, it’s been a long trip and I feel as if I’m caked in dirt.”

You but your bottom lip out and shuffle on your feet, your arms now hugging yourself.

He chuckles, his gaze softening slightly as he took in your adorable expression. He could see right through your little act, you were using your pout and innocence to your advantage, and he found it both endearing and amusing.

He placed a gentle hand on your lower back, feeling how small you were compared to him.

“You’re not completely wrong, darling. You do have a little bit of dirt on your face.”

He raised his other hand, gently wiping away some of the dirt on your cheek with his thumb.

Your eyes focus on his hand, your breathe hitching in your throat. You move your face from his grip and diverted your gaze. You too a few steps towards the door and reached your hand out to grab onto the handle but paused before your fingers could graze the metal.

You turned your head to Cregan. Silently asking for permission to open the door.

Cregan chuckled again, noticing your hesitation and your silent question. He took a step closer to you, closing the gap between you, now standing directly behind you.

He place his hands on your hips, his breath lightly tickling your ear as he leaned his head down closer to you.

“You don’t need my permission to open the door, darling. This is your room too, remember? You can do whatever you wish.”

“I just want to make you happy my Lord” you replied.

He hummed as he felt your small body pressed up against his, his hands staying on your waist. He enjoyed having you so close, he relished the feeling of your curves in his grip.

He moved closer, his chest now flush against your back as he lowered his head once more, murmuring in your ear,

“And you already do, darling. You make me very, very happy.”

“And how is that my Lord?”

He chuckled, his hot breath still caressing the side of your face, sendings shivers down your spine.

“I have a beautiful, feisty and loyal wife who I will now be spending every night with for the rest of my life. What more could a man ask for?”

“How about we enter our room first my Lord, I still need to bathe.”

“Hm, of course, darling.”

He nodded in agreement and toons step back , allowing you to push open the door. He gestured for you to walk in first and followed close behind, his eyes roaming over your body once more before he shut the doors, locking it behind him.

You looked around the large room. A bed stood stoic in the middle of the room, covered with layers of soft and fluffy furs. There was a large two person table with wooden chairs, on top the table there was a jug and two glasses, and on the other side of the room there was a large tub filled with water and steam radiating off it.

Cregan watched your eyes rake over the room, a smirk on his face as he took in your expression.

He found your your innocent curiosity endearing, and he knew that you had probably never seen a Lords chambers before.

He walked over to one of the wooden chairs and began taking off his gloves, placing them on the table.

“Do you like it darling?”

“Very much so my Lord, the bed looks so inviting, it seems like it can keep me warm during the winters,.. like you my Lord..”

You turn towards the bath as he chuckles behind you. Your body was practically begging you to let it relax in the soothing water.

“Uhm, my Lord? Is there a curtain of the sort to cover the bathing area while I soak?”

Cregan chuckled, watching as you admired the bed and the tub of hot water. His eyes lingered on your form for a moment before he spoke again. He leaned against the table, a smirk slowly forming on his face

“Yes, darling, there is a curtain. But…”

He paused, his smirk widening at the thought of what he was about to request

“I have a request of you, first.”

“What do you request of me your grace?”

He pushed himself off the table, slowly walking up to you, his smirk still in place. He stopped when he was right in front of you, towering over your small frame, your face looking up at him with curiosity. He reached out a hand and gently touched your chin, tilting your face up even more.

“I want you…”

He paused, his smirk turning into a smile as he looked down at you.

“To undress for me. Slowly.”

Your eyes widen at his request, chest enlarging as you take in a deep breath.

“I’m not sure what you mean my lord. You want me to undress for you?..”

You stare into his eyes and part your lips, going to speak but the words don’t leave.

He chuckled again at your surprised expression, finding you innocent act to be quite amusing. He kept your chin tilted up, his fingers still lingering on your skin as he looked down at your face.

“I think you know exactly what I mean, darling.”

He lowered his other hand and placed it on your hip, his fingers gently rubbing your waist through the fabric of your dress.

You lick your lips and contemplate your next move, you end up grabbing his hands and pushing them off you and spinning on your heel. You stalk towards the tub, your back facing Cregan. You stop a few inches infront of the tub of water. Pausing before reaching up to unlace the front of your dress, slowly pushing it off your shoulders and exposing your slender arms.

Cregan watched as you walked towards the tub, his eyes fixated on your back as you began to undo the laces of your dress. He couldn't help but smile as you pulled the dress off your shoulders, revealing more and more of your bare skin to him. He took a few steps closer, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes slowly roamed over your bare shoulders, admiring your slender arms.

“Keep going, darling.”

His voice sent a shiver through your spine.

“Whatever you desire my lord.”

You whispered breathlessly as you pushed the fabric down your torso, exposing your chest to the wall and your back to Cregan.

Cregan's breath hitched in his throat as he watched you slowly unveil your body to him, his eyes roaming over your bare back and your slender torso, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

“That's it, darling. Keep going.”

He was so close behind you now, he could reach out and touch your bare skin if he wanted to, and he desperately wanted to. He wanted to run his hands all over her body, feel your soft skin beneath his rough hands.

The slender fingers paused, deciding wether you should expose yourself towards your new husband. It is duty to do anything he pleases. So you decided against your better judgement and pushed the dress down, going over the curve of your ass and down your plush thighs. The dress pooled at your feet as you stepped out of it, your hands gripping the bath before going to step inside.

Cregan stood there in a daze, his eyes slowly raking over your almost fully naked form. Why would we was even more beautiful than you imagined, your body more exquisite than he could ever have imagined. He was at a loss for words, his mind was completely blown by the sight of your bare torso and thighs. He took a step closer, his hands itching to touch you, to feel your soft flesh under his palms.

He snapped out of his daze when you moved to step into the tub. He quickly reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting into the water.

Your eyebrows furrow as your head snaps towards his wrist and then go his face,

“My Lord, is something wrong? Did you want to bathe instead?”

He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes drifting back down to your body, taking in your slender frame and your bare thighs. He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening as he continued speaking.

"No, darling. I want you to get in the water, but I have another request."

He took a step closer, his body now pressed up against your back. You placed hip hands on hips, his fingers gently gripping your bare skin.

Your voice comes out warm and soft as you reply to him,

“And what request would that be my Lord?”

He smiled at your response, relishing the feeling of your body pressed up against his. He moved one of his hands down to yor belly, slowly rubbing his fingers over her skin.

“I want you to let me wash you, darling.”

He leaned down and nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke again.

“Every inch of you.”

“Whatever you desire, i will fulfill my lord. And if that’s to wash every, single inch of my body as i bathe, then I will allow it. But you’re looking quite dirt ridden too my lord, perhaps you want to bathe after me.. or with me.”

You do admit, it was brave of you to say this but if you were going to make this man happy, you guess being in his chambers might be the right place to start.

Cregan chuckled and hummed against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He loved the sound of you submitting yourself to him, your words, as bold as they were, made his chest surge with satisfaction.

“Oh, darling, are you suggesting that I undress and take a bath with you?”

He nibbled at your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin as he spoke again,

“I like that idea, darling. I like it a lot.”

“If you truly like it then you’ll join me my lord”

You step into the water before Cregan can stop you, turning to face him, your breasts exposed to him before you sink into the water and stare at him, waiting for him to join you.

Cregan cursed under his breath as you stepped into the water, you body sinking down and disappearing underneath the water, only your head remaining above. He stared down at you, his eyes raking over her bare neck and your shoulders, his gaze moving lower and lower down to your covered chest.

He swore again, muttering something incoherent as he began pulling his tunic over his head, tossing it on the floor without a care. He quickly began undressing, stripping off each piece of clothing until he was bare chested, his pants still on.

“I thought you wanted to join me my Lord, but you’re still not bare?”

You teased him as you shuffled with anticipation in the water.

He chuckled, his hands moving down to his pants as he slowly began pulling them down, taking his time as he continued looking at you in the tub, the water covering her body up to your collarbones.

“Be patient, darling. I don't like to do things quickly.”

He pushed the pants down and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side and standing there in front of you, completely naked and unabashed. He smirked as he saw your eyes roam over his body.

“I see why the girls fawn over you my Lord, should I consider them my enemies?”

He chuckled and stepped into the water, hissing as the warm water enveloped his body, the steam slowly rising and filling the air.

“Hm, is that so? And what makes you say that, darling?”

He moved closer and grabbed onto your hips, pulling your towards him until your body was flush against his, your back now against his chest.

“Well for one I’ve heard your not shy of training without your shirt on, in fact I’ve heard you prefer it. I’m sure the local girls must be falling at your feet because of your stocky, protective build and your defined features.”

Your hand reaches up from the water to reach behind you and stroke his face.

He hummed in agreement as he felt your hand on his face, your fingers gently tracing along the lines of his jaw. He chuckled at your words, a proud smirk slowly forming on his face.

“I like to keep my body in prime condition, darling. And yes, it does help when I have lovely ladies watching me train, drooling over my body.”

He smirked even more as he spoke, feeling your body pressed up against his. He could feel the way your curves molded perfectly against his chest and abdomen.

“Cregan..”

Using his name was natural even though it was the first time you had used his name in his presence.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth for the second time caused his chest to tighten, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your sweet voice saying it.

“Hmm, that's better darling. Say my name again.”

He let go of your chin and instead moved his hand to your hair, gently cupping the back of your head and running his fingers through the soft locks.

“There are no other women who I am interested in. There is only you, my wife.”

You look at his lips, seemingly entranced by them.

“Only me?”

You look up at him.

“You are yet to prove this my Lord.”

He smirks, his eyes narrowing as he picks up on the hint of teasing in your tone. He moves his hand down to rest on your lower stomach, pulling you even closer until there was hardly a breath of space between your bodies.

“Is that so?”

He says, his voice low and seductive.

“And what do you expect from me, darling? How do you want me to prove it?”

“You haven’t even bathed your wife yet dear husband, you promised.”

His smirk widens, his eyes darkening with lust and desire as he heard your reminder. He reached over and grabbed the soft cloth from the edge of the tub, and began rubbing it over your skin, the steam from the water making the air feel thick and heavy between you.

“You're right, darling. I promised to wash you, and that's what I plan to do.”

He began running the cloth over your shoulders and back, his touch gentle but firm as he cleaned every inch of your skin.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder and let out a sigh, feeling his hands explore your body.

He continued running the cloth over your skin, his hands moving slowly and deliberately as he cleaned you. His eyes roved over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin as he bathed you.

“You're so beautiful, darling.”

He whispered, his mouth close to your ear as he spoke. His voice was low and husky, filled with a mixture of desire and reverence. He couldn't help but let his hands wander, tracing over your curves and caressing your soft skin.

“I think you’re missing a spot husband.”

He chuckled and playfully nipped at your ear, his hands pausing their slow movements as he hummed against your skin.

“Is that so? Which spot am I missing darling?”

You grabbed his hand and dragged it up your body, up your torso and landing on your chest, letting him fondle your tits as you bite your lip.

He chuckled lowly, his fingers gently caressing your soft flesh as he teased your sensitive nipples.

“Is this the spot you wanted me to wash darling?”

He whispered into your ear, his voice rough and sultry as he spoke. His touch was firm but gentle, his hands slowly moving over your mounds as he washed you.

“Mhmm..”

You moaned out through your lips, your teeth still biting your bottom lip as you whine and whimper.

“You’re very good with your hands Cregan.”

He hummed in agreement, his hands continuing to move over your body, gently massaging your soft flesh as he washed you. He liked the way you were responding to his touch, the way your body was shivering and trembling under his hands as he touched you.

“I'm glad you think so, darling. I enjoy using my hands, especially on you.”

He spoke softly into your ear, his lips skimming over the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders as he washed you.

You turn your head to face him as you shuffle your hips.

He could feel your hips moving against his as you shifted, and it sent a jolt of heat through his body. He pulled you even closer, his chest pressing against your back as he continued to wash you, his movements growing more deliberate and intimate.

“Darling, you're being a tease.”

He whispered, his voice low and rough as he spoke into your ear. His hands were moving lower now, slowly trailing down your stomach and over your hips.

“You’re contradicting yourself dear husband. Your hands are teasing my body while your words and teasing my mind.”

He chuckled lowly and nipped at your ear again, his hands continuing to roam over your body, exploring every inch of your soft flesh. He could feel your trembling and shivering under his touch, the fire between you growing hotter and hotter.

“Maybe I do it on purpose, darling. I like seeing you squirm and whimper, begging for me to touch you.”

He whispered into your ear, his voice laced with a hint of darkness and dominance.

You squirm on his lap, staring I to his eyes.

“Your words are like honey, my Lord. But does your mouth taste like it I wonder?”

You subconsciously open your legs and push your face a little closer to his.

He grins, his smirk growing wider at your words and the way your body is reacting to him. His eyes dart down to the space between your legs, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin as he slowly moves his hands up your thighs, stopping just short of touching you where you crave it most.

“You want to find out, darling? Is that what you want?”

He looks up and locks eyes with you, his gaze full of heat and desire as he waits for your response.

“I was my mothers most curious child for a reason.”

He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering against your soft skin as he spoke.

“You are a curious one, aren't you? Always wanting to explore and learn more.”

He moves his hands further up your thighs, his fingers skimming over your skin and closer to your core. But he stops short, his touch just shy of where you want it most.

“And are you curious to taste my lips, darling? To see if my words taste as sweet as they sound?”

“It’s my most desired question at this moment in time. But maybe you could put that hand to use while your putting your mouth to use?”

You suggested seductively. You wanted him to touch you. To circle your most sensitive part and make you writhe in his grip.

He smirked against your skin and nipped at your shoulder, his lips grazing the spot as he spoke.

“Such impatience, darling. But I suppose I can indulge you.”

He moved his hand up even higher, his fingers brushing against your core, but still not quite touching you. His thumb gently caressed your skin, teasing you, as his lips moved to your neck, slowly trailing kisses along your skin.

“If you are to indulge me dear husband, then you will kiss me and be more confident with your hands, I need your touch husband.”

He chuckled against your skin, his smile growing wider as he teased you some more with his hands.

“Is my little darling getting desperate for my touch? Wanting me to kiss her and touch her the way she wants me to?”

He moved his lips to your ear, his tongue flicking out to tease your lobe as he spoke.

“You need my touch, darling? You crave it, don't you? My mouth and hands all over you, touching you and pleasuring you.”

“If you don’t touch me soon Cregan I will get the Seven to chastise you. Please just touch me husband…”

You whimper out as you ouch your hips into his fingers.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss behind your ear, his fingers finally, finally, finding your core and gently circling the sensitive bud. His breath was hot against your skin, his breathing becoming heavier as he spoke.

“You're so impatient, my little darling. You want my touch so badly, don't you? You want me to touch you and make you feel good, don't you, darling?”

“Fuck.. yes dear.. Cregan… please kiss me…”

You manage to mumble out through your whines and gasps.

He hummed against your skin, his fingers continuing to work over your core, gently rubbing and teasing you as you whimpered and writhed in his lap.

“That's it, darling. Moan for me. Say my name.”

He shifted your body in his lap, pulling you even closer as he nipped at your neck.

You grabbed his face from your neck and lifted it up. You pulled him down and pressed his lips against yours, moaning into his mouth as he continued rubbing his calloused hands over your sensitive bud, overwhelming you.

He moaned against your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth as he kissed you passionately. His fingers continued to work over you, his touch firm and deliberate as he teased and pleasured you. He could feel you trembling and shaking in his arms, your moans and gasps sending a thrill through his body.

“You taste so good, darling. So sweet, just like I imagined.”

He mumbled against your lips, his voice rough and hoarse with desire.

His left hand continued to work on your sensitive area as his right hand caresses your breasts. You bring you right hand down to press his hand into his core and lifting your hips up into his fingers while your left hand is tangled into his thick, dark hair.

He groaned against your lips as he felt you pressing his hand against your core, the gesture driving him wild. His fingers continued to work over you, his touch growing more confident and possessive as you writhed against him. He broke the kiss and moved his mouth to your neck, his lips and tongue trailing over your skin as he spoke.

“That's it, darling. Take what you want. Use my hand, use my body.”

You whine and moan out loudly.

“Husband please.. Cregan..”

Whimpering, you lazily move your hips back and forwards, both on his hand and his crotch, making him squeeze your nipple tight and roll it in his fingers, heightening your pleasure.

“Please Cregan.. make me feel overwhelmed by your touch..”

He moans into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged puffs as he feels you grinding yourself against his hand and hip. Your whimpers and whines are driving him wild, and he can't help but grow more dominant and possessive as he hears your pleas.

“You want me to overwhelm you, darling? You want me to make you beg and squirm and whimper for me? To make you forget your own name as I touch you?”

“Please Cregan… I’m begging you..”

He grins against your skin, his voice dark and possessive as he speaks.

“You're so needy, darling. So desperate for my touch. And you're begging me already?”

He nibbles at your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin as he continues speaking,

“Do you want me to touch you more, darling? To make you feel good? To make you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure that you can't think straight?”

“Yes! Yes Cregan.. please make me fall apart on your fingers.. please..”

He groans against your skin, your words and pleas driving him wild. His fingers continue to work over you, his touch firm and confident as he does his best to overwhelm you.

“You're begging for it so nicely, darling. You want me to make you fall apart on my fingers, don't you? You want me to tease and pleasure you until you can't think of anything but my touch?”

“Mhmm”

You bite your lip as you feel yourself throbbing as he stroked you. You reached to his hands and pushed further down, needing his fingers to focus on your entrance while his thumb strokes your clit.

He chuckled and bit your ear, his voice rough and hot against your skin.

“You're so impatient, darling. So desperate for more.”

“I’m so desperate for your touch Cregan. Give me more. You said for me to use you and that’s what I’m doing.”

You guide his fingers inside you. Resting your head against his chest as you breathe out a moan.

He groans into your ear as you guide his fingers inside, his breath ragged and heavy as he feels your heat around his digits. Your words and your touch are driving him wild, making him even more possessive and dominant as he speaks.

“That's right, darling. Use me. Take what you want from me. Let me make you feel good.”

“Gods Cregan..”

You clench around him from his words, he had this affect on you, he could make you soaked with just a stare.

He grins against your neck, his words coming out in a low, possessive growl as you clench around him.

“You're so wet for me, darling. So needy and desperate for me and my touch.”

He leans down and bites your shoulder, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continues working his fingers inside you.

“You're mine, darling. All mine. Every inch of you.”

“Please Cregan… faster.. I’m so close..”

You grabbed his face and forced his forehead against yours, staring into his eyes as you roll your hips against his hand.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as you force your foreheads together. You’re so close, he can feel it in the way you’re moving against him, in the way your breath is coming out in short, ragged pants. His fingers move faster inside you, his touch firm and deliberate.

“Cregan.. fuck..”

You moan out, your pussy pulsing as your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forming a large O, you were so so close, you just needed that extra push to reach your peak.

He can feel you pulse around him, your body trembling with the build up of pleasure as you get closer and closer to the edge. He can see the look of ecstasy on your face, your mouth open in that perfect little 'O' as your moan and whimper for him.

“Come for me, darling. Let go and come for me.”

He whispers into your ear, his fingers moving even more quickly as he tries to push you over the edge.

“Fuck.. fuck! My Lord, I’m cumming! Fuck.. Cregan!”

With one last shout of his name your back arches off him as your legs tremble and you basically scream a moan as you come, enjoying the wave of ecstasy wash over you as you clamp your legs shut on his hand and forced his mouth onto yours, containing your moans.

He grins and kisses you passionately, swallowing your moans and screams as you cum. He can feel your body trembling and shaking in his arms, your legs clenched around his hand as you ride out the waves of pleasure. He continues to press his fingers inside you, prolonging your orgasm as he whispers praises into your ear.

“That's my good girl. Let go and let me feel you come apart like that.”

He mumbles into your ear, his voice rough and possessive as he holds you against him.

“I love you so much dear husband. So so much. Cregan, you complete me.”

You manage to breathe out after your orgasm rattles your frame.

He smiles down at you, his expression full of affection and devotion as he holds you against him. Your words fill him with a sense of pride and joy, and he feels a deep sense of love and protectiveness for you.

“I love you too, darling. You're everything to me. My world would be empty without you in it.”

He kisses the top of your head and gently pulls you to his chest, holding you close as he continues to speak.

“You're my everything. My heart, my soul, my very essence.”

———————————————

Tag list: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

#Cregan stark #creganstark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark smut #Cregan stark hotd #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd x reader #got #got x reader #got smut #game of thrones #stark #Cregan

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creamflix · 1 month ago

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PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 1]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, angst, slow-burn, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 6,203 words

notes: and the award of best liar goes to.....in my defense i needed a break from all the smut writing, so please! please, enjoy the first official chapter of an impulse project. there will be multiple parts to it, so worry not! and please, grill me in the comments. get as critical as you can get, i need the advice. thank you for reading!

masterlist

"you’re fuckin’ shit at your job! pathetic, you hear? if i see you here ever again, god so help me, you’ll never find another job again."

those words still echoed in your mind. sukuna's sneer, the disgust that dripped off every syllable. that day, three years ago, you were swiftly replaced, just another disposable pawn in his empire. it wasn’t that you lacked skills. in fact, you were precise, efficient — everything a good secretary should be. but no one could keep up with him. sukuna’s fiery temper was like a storm you never saw coming. always brewing, always on the verge of eruption. the minute you faltered, even slightly, he was there, leaning over your desk, barking down at you like you were nothing.

the flashbacks always left a sour taste in your mouth, but you weren’t the same cowering woman anymore. back then, the memory of his cruel words had left you teary-eyed in the restroom stalls, wiping away mascara smudges and biting back sobs. but after you left, you swore you’d prove him wrong. you refused to be just another forgotten casualty in sukuna’s warpath.

and now, you had your own wine company.

persephone.

sukuna found the name laughable at first, but the numbers? they didn’t lie. your brand was making waves, quickly becoming a sensation in the high-end wine scene. it wasn’t just some trendy label either — it had substance. the quality was undeniable, and the industry was taking note. especially his industry.

“fuckin’ ‘persephone,’ huh?” sukuna muttered under his breath, leaning back in his sleek office chair. he was alone, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest, his expression unreadable. “she’s really givin’ me a run for my money now.” he chuckled, but it wasn’t from amusement. it was that low, dangerous sound he made when something — or someone — was starting to piss him off.

he was the king of the alcohol game, dammit. ryomen had become a powerhouse in just four years, dominating the market with everything from vodka to rum, sake to whiskey. his brand wasn’t just a name; it was a status symbol. people flaunted his bottles like designer bags. you had ryomen on your bar? you were in a different league.

but lately, his sales were dipping in a very specific category. wine. your wine.

“you’re tellin’ me,” he grumbled, looking at the sales report, “that some chick i fired is takin’ a bite outta my profits? unbelievable.”

his current secretary, a polished woman with the demeanor of a robot, stood nearby, silent. she knew better than to interject when sukuna was simmering like this.

“it’s just wine, boss. nothing we can’t —”

“shut the fuck up,” he snapped, cutting her off. “i’ll tell you when it’s ‘nothing.’ right now, it’s a goddamn problem.”

his thoughts raced. part of him hated the fact that you were even on his radar again. you, the same woman who used to flinch when he raised his voice, the one who could barely get out an apology without her hands trembling. he could still remember how you’d stammer through excuses when he’d tear into you for something as simple as a typo in an email.

“god, she was useless,” he muttered to himself, leaning forward and running a hand through his pink hair. but then, a frown crept across his face. useless… or just unlucky enough to work under him?

he shook his head. no, he wasn’t going down that road. feelings, regret, all that emotional bullshit — none of it mattered. it only got in the way of the goal. sukuna was focused, driven, and nothing could pull him off track.

except maybe you.

he hadn’t dwelled on it much back then, too busy building his empire. but now, here you were, with your fancy brand and your goddamn ‘persephone’ label, threatening the wine segment he’d dominated for years.

“she must think she’s somethin’ special,” sukuna muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips. “bet she’s struttin’ around now, huh? all high and mighty.”

he could imagine it — you, standing in front of a boardroom, confident, assured, looking down on everyone the way you probably thought he’d done to you. but that wasn’t going to last.

he rose from his chair, walking over to the window of his penthouse office that overlooked the city skyline. night was starting to fall, and the lights of the city below twinkled like stars.

“well, brat,” he said quietly to himself, voice low and dangerous, “you better enjoy it while it lasts. ‘cause when i’m done with you, you’ll wish i never fired you in the first place.”

he smirked at his own reflection in the glass. maybe he’d underestimated you back then. maybe he’d been too quick to write you off. but that didn’t change the fact that he was going to crush you now.

and this time, he wouldn’t even need to raise his voice.

saying that you were fucked was the understatement of the century.

the alcohol industry? you picked it on purpose — almost like tempting fate itself. it started innocently enough, with your last paycheck crumpled in your hand, drowning your sorrows in ryomen wine — the same wine you used to grab for sukuna when he’d bark orders at you. you swore you could still hear his voice every time you cracked open a bottle. the sharp aftertaste didn’t help, either. you switched to other brands when your wallet allowed: cloudy bay sauvignon blanc, stags' leap cabernet sauvignon, anything that felt like an escape from his shadow. but your funds ran dry faster than you expected, and soon enough, you found yourself back at your mother’s place, sulking like some NEET loser who couldn't face the real world.

and sukuna? that scumbag was true to his word. not only had he fired you with no remorse, but he made damn sure no one else would touch you with a ten-foot pole. rumors spread fast, and he made sure every single one painted you as the problem. you couldn’t get a job to save your life. so, you hustled. babysitting, tutoring, walking dogs — you did whatever you could just to scrape by. but it was humiliating, feeling like you were clawing at survival while your old boss sat on his throne, sipping his overpriced sake and not giving a second thought to you.

the worst part? you craved a drink. every time you got a little extra cash, you were tempted to blow it on just a bottle of something — anything — to numb the exhaustion. but your mother’s concerned eyes on your gaunt face made you stop. she was already worried enough.

then, one night, as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone in your cramped childhood bedroom, you stumbled across a buzzfeed article: "how to make your own wine in ten easy steps!"

it was absurd — who the hell makes wine from scratch? but you clicked it anyway. the gears in your brain started turning as you read it over. step by step, you memorized every detail. the next morning, you raided the supermarket like a woman possessed, stuffing your cart with grapes, yeast, and whatever else you could get your hands on. you were going to make your own wine, because if you couldn’t afford it anymore, then screw it — you’d just make the damn thing.

you spent hours in the kitchen, your hands moving frantically, following the recipe to the letter. and somehow, against all odds, the first batch tasted… good. like, really good. your mother, usually uptight about everything you did, even cracked a rare smile when she tasted it.

“this is actually delicious,” she admitted, setting the glass down. “you should bring some to my gardening club next week. the ladies would love this.”

it was a small suggestion, but it lit a fire in you. making those first few test bottles for her friends? it wasn’t just a distraction anymore. it was the first real sense of purpose you’d felt in months. and when they praised it — truly praised it — you realized this wasn’t just a hobby. this was your way out. your way to rewrite the script that sukuna had burned into your life. you weren’t just going to survive. you were going to live.

what you didn’t expect was for your little wine experiment to become such a big hit.

the ladies from your mom’s gardening club practically lost their minds over your creation. they praised your "natural talent" for winemaking, showering you with compliments and, more importantly, money. they insisted you make more, some even handing over cash in advance just to guarantee their next bottle. you were floored. you could practically hear the sound of money flowing in as you eagerly took order after order, working day and night in your makeshift wine lab — your old side hustles as a barista and a dog poop scooper long forgotten.

now? you were a businesswoman, and damn if you didn’t love saying it. your mom did too. she proudly bragged about you to anyone who would listen. whenever someone asked that tired, familiar question — "what’s your daughter been up to these days?" — your mom would light up, puffing her chest with pride as she told them all about her daughter’s successful wine venture.

time blurred as you threw yourself into your work, orders coming in steadily, and with them, a steady income. it wasn’t long before you had enough to take your mom out for a nice dinner — your treat. the look of pride on her face when the waiter handed you the bill? priceless. you didn’t even feel the pull to drown your sorrows in alcohol anymore. sukuna’s wine? fuck that. the high you got from creating something that people loved, the thrill of turning your passion into profit — that was better than any drink could ever be. but, of course, ambition is a funny thing. once you start getting a taste of success, you start wondering — what if i could get higher?

that’s when suguru geto crash-landed into your life. literally.

one day, his car broke down in front of your house, a random stroke of luck that led to something unexpected. what started as a quick fix turned into a fast friendship, and in just a week, you went from being casual acquaintances to best friends. turns out, suguru’s aunt was part of your mom’s gardening club, so you two started seeing each other more often, and he quickly became your biggest supporter.

“you know,” he said one afternoon, lounging on your couch, “you should make this a real thing.”

“it is a real thing,” you laughed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“no, i mean like — patent it. sell it in supermarkets. let the whole damn world know about you.”

his words struck a chord in you. you stared at him for a moment, your mind spinning with the possibilities. could you really do that? could you take persephone to the next level?

“i don’t know, sugu,” you murmured, biting your lip. “that’s a lot of pressure. i mean, i’m doing fine as is —”

“fine?” he cut you off, grinning. “you’re thriving. don’t sell yourself short. you’ve got something special here, and you know it.”

his confidence in you was almost overwhelming. it made you wonder — what if he was right? what if this little wine brand of yours wasn’t just a side gig anymore, but something bigger? something that could rival even the big names like… ryomen.

the thought sent a chill down your spine. sukuna.

no. this was your time. your success. and this time, it was on your terms.

your confidence, once sky-high, was quick to deflate as reality hit you like a brick wall. how the hell were you going to get the money to start? you weren’t exactly rolling in cash, and even with all the orders you had, it wasn’t enough to cover what you needed to expand. you were, in every sense of the word, still a nobody in the business world.

sitting on the couch, your mind raced, spiraling through all the worst-case scenarios. that’s when suguru, ever the calm one, leaned back casually and smirked.

“honey, you forget,” he said, shooting you a knowing look, “my talent is breathing money.”

your eyes widened. “you’re seriously gonna fund this?”

“why not?” he shrugged, the confidence in his voice unwavering. “i know you’re serious about this, and i’d rather bet my money on you than anyone else. plus,” he added with a grin, “this is gonna be fun.”

his belief in you left you speechless, and soon after, your mother chipped in too, offering up what she could. “you’ve got something special here,” she said softly, her eyes shining with pride. “we both believe in you, and you know what you’re doing.”

with their help, you pooled together just enough to get things rolling, investing everything accordingly. you finally gave your company a name — persephone. it felt like a declaration. this wasn’t just a passion project anymore; it was your shot at proving yourself, at rewriting the story that sukuna tried to burn into your life.

you managed to get your first stock sent out to the supermarket you used to work in, thanks to your old manager who, having tasted your wine himself, vouched for it without hesitation. he agreed to stock your goods on a trial basis, just to see how the public would respond. you sent the stock out tentatively, crossing your fingers and hoping against hope that you could sell out, just maybe.

you spent that afternoon waiting for a response, nerves gnawing at you, until exhaustion pulled you into sleep. you weren’t prepared for what you’d wake up to.

when you blinked awake, the first thing you saw was your phone screen flashing — seven missed calls from suguru and three from your manager. panic gripped you as the worst thoughts raced through your mind. what if something went wrong? what if people got sick from your wine? what if —

you quickly dialed suguru back, your heart hammering in your chest.

“y/n!” his voice came through, excited, breathless. “you’re not gonna believe this. your entire stock? sold out in four hours. people are demanding for more! even the other supermarkets are calling in, asking for you!”

you blinked, the words not fully sinking in. sold out? your whole stock? your mind spun as you processed what he was saying. a rush of disbelief and euphoria flooded your senses all at once.

“i — what? are you serious?”

“dead serious,” suguru chuckled. “this is just the beginning, y/n. your life’s about to change, and fast.”

and in that moment, you knew — this wasn’t just a lucky break. this was it. your life was about to change forever, and sukuna? he wasn’t looming over you anymore. you were about to loom over him.

all of this was just one year ago. persephone blew up like dynamite, becoming the “it” drink with gen z practically overnight. people everywhere dubbed it “the hot girl drink,” and it spread like wildfire on social media. celebs, influencers, and even rappers were endorsing it — rihanna, beyonce, hell, even international actors from countries you never thought would give you the time of day. your pet project had turned into a full-blown empire, something you never even dreamed of. the insane part? it wasn’t just a fad — it was here to stay. persephone was the new, unbeatable champion of the wine industry, holding the number one spot for the entire year. nothing — and no one — could touch you.

market experts were scrambling to crack the secret behind your success. every business magazine, blog, and analyst was pouring over the data, trying to figure out how the hell a tiny, unknown brand could rise to the top so quickly. when forbes asked you to explain it, your response had been simple:

"all you need is a little bit of love in the mix. that's why everyone loves us."

love? bullshit.

sukuna scoffed, slamming the magazine down on his desk as he glared at your interview in the newest issue of forbes. his eyes burned with frustration as he scanned the glossy page, your face plastered on the front cover — forbes, of all things. he remembered when he was the one on the cover. and now it was you, alongside some other guy, suguru geto, your so-called "business partner." his hands fisted the edges of the magazine as he forced himself to read through the article, bile rising in his throat.

"fuckin’ love," sukuna muttered under his breath. "what a load of crap."

what really pissed him off wasn't the fact that ryomen wines had dropped to number two in the market. no, they were still crushing it in vodka, rum, and sake — dominating, even. sukuna still smugly held onto that victory, and in truth, ryomen's other sectors were thriving. but it wasn’t about the numbers.

it was about you.

you, of all people, had stolen his top spot. the quiet, cowering secretary he’d dismissed without a second thought had somehow clawed her way up to rival him. beat him. and that, more than anything else, was what grated on his nerves. it was like a personal insult, like every bottle of persephone on the shelves was a slap to his face.

he didn’t understand it — couldn’t wrap his head around how you, someone he once considered nothing more than a weak, insignificant nuisance, had built something this big. this powerful. it was unthinkable.

but it didn’t matter. because if there was one thing sukuna hated more than losing, it was losing to you.

“get ready,” he muttered, tossing the crumpled magazine into the trash. “this ain’t over.”

he wasn’t about to let you bask in your victory for long. oh no, sukuna never did well with defeat, and you were about to learn exactly what that meant.

sukuna’s sundays were always a mixed bag when his brothers came over. on the one hand, he secretly enjoyed not being alone, the house filled with chatter and energy he rarely allowed himself to admit he missed. on the other hand… they had their quirks, quirks he didn’t always have the patience for.

today was no exception.

“oii, nii-chan!! is it true you’re cooked?” yuuji’s loud voice rang through the kitchen as he leaned over the counter, his face full of boyish excitement. at eighteen, fresh out of high school, yuuji was all energy and enthusiasm, completely missing the tension in sukuna’s glare.

“we are not cooked, brat. now scram!” sukuna growled, his patience already wearing thin. it wasn’t that he didn’t like yuuji; he loved the kid in his own harsh way. but today was not the day to bring up the one topic that had been gnawing at him for weeks now — persephone.

yuuji, of course, remained completely oblivious to his brother’s thinly veiled rage. “dude, we need to try it out — for sampling purposes, of course!” he corrected himself quickly when sukuna’s eyes darkened, the older man’s low growl sending a shiver down his spine. choso, standing quietly by the side, let out a silent sigh of exasperation that went unnoticed by both of them. as the eldest brother of the three, choso was used to playing mediator between sukuna and yuuji’s endless energy.

“talking about that cheap wine in front of your brother? seems like choso here isn’t teachin’ ya manners, brat,” sukuna scoffed, throwing a sharp glare at choso. but choso wasn’t fooled by the display — he knew sukuna well enough to recognize the silent plea in that look. sukuna wasn’t just angry; he was frustrated and on edge, and right now he needed choso’s help to avoid losing face in front of their younger brother.

choso, ever the calm and rational one, stepped in smoothly. “sukuna’s right, yuuji. why don’t we try some of his wine instead? ryomen’s pretty coveted, you know. you can even tell your friends you’ve got the inside scoop on the best stuff,” he suggested, his voice soft and persuasive. he knew yuuji’s weak spot — flexing on his friends — and wasn’t above playing that card to steer the conversation away from persephone.

yuuji’s eyes lit up at the mention of flexing to his friends. “yeah, that’d be awesome! ryomen’s, like, top-tier,” he agreed quickly, the previous excitement over persephone fading as he eagerly darted toward sukuna’s personal bar.

“but only a sip!” choso called after him, his tone firm but affectionate. yuuji grinned and gave a thumbs-up, too eager to care about the warning.

as soon as yuuji was out of earshot, sukuna’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his scowl remained. “thanks,” he muttered under his breath, leaning against the kitchen counter with a scowl that barely concealed his relief.

choso merely nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “you should really tell him what’s bothering you, sukuna. pretending it’s not a problem won’t make it go away.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched at the suggestion. “i’m not pretending anything,” he shot back. “just not giving that cheap wine any more attention than it deserves.”

choso didn’t argue — he knew better than to press sukuna when he was like this. but even as they heard yuuji clattering around in the bar, talking excitedly to himself about the bottles he found, choso couldn’t help but wonder how much longer sukuna could keep up this front before the tension snapped.

soon enough, sukuna bid choso and yuuji goodbye, grunting a half-hearted “good luck” to yuuji for his academics and giving a curt nod to choso. it was their silent agreement to continue taking care of yuuji, a bond forged through the ups and downs of their unconventional family. deep down, sukuna wished his brothers could stay longer, but he knew his work environment would be more chaotic than conducive to yuuji’s growth. the kid needed some normalcy, a chance to be a teenager without the weight of sukuna's world pressing down on him.

choso had that normalcy. he had a simple job and quiet life waiting for him back home, something that balanced him out in a way that sukuna hadn’t found in years. as he watched them leave, sukuna couldn’t help but wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t run off at twenty-seven, leaving his twenty-two-year-old brother to shoulder the burden of raising a thirteen-year-old yuuji all by himself. it felt like a dick move, something no older brother should do. but he’d made up for it in his own way — by rapidly building a name for himself in the alcohol industry, ensuring his brothers were taken care of.

the weight of those thoughts pressed on him as he closed the door behind them. he had sent ample money back to support choso and yuuji, ensuring they lived comfortably and never struggled. yuuji’s education had never been compromised, and sukuna took a twisted sense of pride in that. everything he did — every deal struck, every bottle sold — was silently for them, though he’d never admit it out loud. they knew, though. they understood the sacrifices he’d made and the lengths he’d go to protect them.

leaning against the closed door, sukuna let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. the house felt empty now, the echoes of yuuji's laughter fading away. but he was used to this emptiness. it was part of the job, part of the life he’d chosen. yet, as he glanced at the bottle of ryomen wine sitting on the counter, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind grew louder. persephone was thriving, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just a business — it was a challenge, a direct competition that tugged at his pride.

he shook his head, pushing away the thoughts. no need to dwell on that right now. there would be time to strategize, to find a way to reclaim what he’d lost. for now, he had work to do, deals to make, and a reputation to maintain. but the tension lingered, a constant reminder that the game was far from over.

every business professional and their mother had heard of the forbes awards — one of the highest honors in the industry, recognizing outstanding achievements in categories like innovation, leadership, and entrepreneurship. it was a big deal, and of course, sukuna was invited. how could he not be? he was the face of ryomen, and ryomen was synonymous with him. it would have been a moral sin to overlook his presence.

but alongside him, in a stunning twist of fate, you were invited as well. your heart raced with excitement as you entered the grand hall, arm in arm with suguru, who wore his usual calm demeanor. the ambiance was electric, filled with murmurs of anticipation and the soft clinking of glasses. you felt like you were floating, clad in the prettiest gown you’d ever worn, the fabric hugging you in all the right places. your excitement bubbled over as you and suguru chatted animatedly, sharing whispers and laughter about the event.

sukuna sat a few seats ahead of you, his presence commanding attention even before the ceremony began. he glanced back at you and suguru, his brow twitching in annoyance. that bastard, he thought, irritation prickling at his nerves. was he annoyed because you were here, or because you were here with suguru? who the hell does he think he is, cozying up to you like that?

he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the stage as the lights dimmed. why the fuck does it matter? sukuna knew he should be above this, above whatever twisted emotions were gnawing at him. but it was hard to shake the feeling that your success was a direct challenge to him. persephone had blown up like a wildfire, and now here you were, practically glowing next to some random man.

the announcer’s voice boomed, echoing through the hall as the first award was presented. sukuna’s mind raced. everyone in this room is waiting to see me win. his heart pounded as he thought about the years of work, the sacrifices he made to build ryomen into what it was. these people need to remember who the real titan in the room is.

he couldn't help but steal glances at you, laughter dancing on your lips as you leaned into suguru’s space, that smile of yours bright enough to rival the stage lights. you think you’re some kind of star now, huh? the thought twisted in his gut. you don’t know what it took to get here.

as winners were announced, the crowd erupted in applause, and sukuna forced himself to smile politely, though inside he was a storm. you’ll never be more than a little brat who got lucky, he told himself. and yet, here you are, basking in the glory that should have been mine.

with every name called, the tension in sukuna grew. he could feel the eyes of the room shifting between him and you. they’re waiting to see what i do next, he mused, resentment and determination colliding within him. they think this is the peak. they have no idea what’s coming.

the night was still young, and the real competition was just beginning.

“and this year’s forbes most innovative company award goes to — y/n l/n & suguru geto for persephone!”

you sat there dumbfounded, too shocked to move, even as cheers erupted around you, your name being called echoing in your mind like a beautiful melody. suguru was beside you, his excitement contagious as he urged you on, “y/n, we won! go on, what are you waiting for?”

you won. you really won. the gravity of it settled in, and you felt a rush of emotions. you hoped your mother was tuned in tonight — oh, who were you kidding? your mother and every other mother in the room had tuned in, probably with their phones in hand, eagerly documenting the night. your mom's hourly reminders of “forbes award show tonight, my daughter is winning” played in your mind like a comforting mantra.

it took all your physical strength to push yourself up from your seat, legs trembling as you shakily walked toward the stage. the camera panned in on your nervous expression, capturing the moment for the world to see. when the award was handed to you, a giddy laugh escaped your lips, a blend of disbelief and joy.

“i — i don’t even know where to begin. i’m just… i’m just someone who started out in her mother’s kitchen.” the crowd chuckled, and you caught a glimpse of suguru, his face radiating pride. “and here i am, getting an award from forbes.” the room erupted into cheers, and you could feel the warmth of their applause wrapping around you.

“i….i made it, mom! i really did, i—” your eyes inadvertently wandered, locking onto sukuna, who was seated a few rows ahead. his expression was thunderous, livid anger practically radiating off him, his tattoos appearing to shift in the dim light as he stared you down. if looks could kill, you were certain you’d disintegrate on the spot.

for a fleeting moment, you felt like that meek little secretary from years ago — the girl who cowered at his angry words, whose confidence had crumbled under his disdain. your breath caught in your throat, palms clammy around the award that suddenly felt like a shackle, the blaring stage lights pressing down on you.

“t-thank you,” you mumbled quickly, and with that, you rushed off the stage, confusion buzzing in the air as people murmured about your abrupt exit. suguru’s brows furrowed with concern as you settled back into your seat beside him.

“hey, what’s wrong? talk to me,” he whispered, his hand finding yours beneath the table, offering a comforting squeeze.

“i saw him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the reality of your win overshadowed by the weight of sukuna’s gaze.

the moment hung in the air between you, an electric tension that made your heart race. you had won tonight, yet the thrill felt tainted, as if sukuna’s presence had darkened your moment. suguru's grip tightened, grounding you, but the storm brewing inside you was harder to quell. this victory should have felt like a celebration, but instead, it brought the ghosts of your past crashing back, threatening to overshadow everything you had worked so hard for.

you should be counting your lucky stars that you exited the stage as soon as possible because if you had stood there for even one more minute, holding the award and basking in the stage lights, sukuna would have popped a blood vessel.

how could you — of all people — have won the award? it felt like a cruel joke, a slap in the face to all the hard work ryomen had poured into every drink they crafted. sugary excuse of a wine — that’s what he thought of your creation. it didn’t matter that you had poured your heart into persephone; to him, it was a mere distraction, a gimmick that somehow managed to catch fire while he’d been left to stoke the flames of a legacy he had built with his own hands.

sukuna’s jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he tried to reign in the rage bubbling beneath the surface. what the hell did you do to deserve this? it wasn’t fair. i revolutionized the industry, he thought bitterly, a storm brewing in his chest. i put everything into ryomen, and yet here you are, stealing the spotlight with your little pet project.

he couldn’t even pay attention to the next awards being given out; they were just a backdrop to the humiliation he felt. this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. he scanned the room, trying to gauge the reactions of others. do they think this is a joke? he wanted to scream, to lash out at anyone who dared to think persephone was on his level. the mere thought of you being lauded for your success twisted in his gut like a knife.

you didn’t know the sacrifices it took to build an empire, he raged inwardly. you didn’t endure the sleepless nights, the harsh decisions, the pressure of making a brand that people could depend on. to sukuna, ryomen wasn’t just a company; it was an extension of himself, a representation of all he had sacrificed for his brothers, for his future. and now, you had waltzed in and claimed an accolade that felt undeserved.

every cheer from the crowd felt like a taunt, a reminder of how far you had come and how deeply he loathed that it was you who had taken this honor away from him. you’ll never be more than a flash in the pan, he promised himself, a mantra to ease the burning rage. i’ll make sure of that.

his mind raced, plotting and scheming as he gripped the armrest of his chair, knuckles white. i need to show them who the real titan is. he had to reclaim his dominance, to put you in your place. it didn’t matter how many influencers endorsed you or how popular your product became; this was just the beginning, and he would not be overshadowed by someone he once considered insignificant.

as you settled back into your seat, a shaky smile still lighting up your face, sukuna's gaze hardened. this isn’t over, he vowed silently, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and resolve. you may have won tonight, but I’ll be damned if i let you steal my thunder.

days had passed since the forbes award show, but the victory felt hollow for sukuna. sure, he walked out with an armful of awards: the stevie awards, recognizing achievements in management and customer service; the international business awards, celebrating excellence in global innovation and leadership; and the business excellence awards, which honored outstanding performance across the board. it was a haul that solidified his status as a titan in the industry. but even with all that, his mind was consumed by the nagging echo of your name.

how the hell did you manage to steal that one award? it nagged at him like a splinter, refusing to be ignored. it didn’t make sense. even though your win seemed like a mere trinket compared to his accolades, it felt like a theft — a theft of something more precious than gold.

wasn’t it enough that i built this empire from the ground up? he thought, frustration simmering just below the surface. i sacrificed everything to get here, and you — of all people — come in and claim a piece of the pie? it infuriated him to think of you standing on that stage, giggling with disbelief, so carefree and unburdened by the weight of the industry that he had shouldered for years. i’ve earned this!

flashbacks from the award show rolled through his mind like a montage — standing on stage, the lights shining down on him as he accepted award after award. the applause ringing in his ears, the pride swelling in his chest as he shook hands with industry leaders, the kind of recognition that validated every sacrifice he had made.

“congratulations, sukuna,” one executive had said, clapping him on the back. “you’ve really outdone yourself this year.”

“what can i say?” he had replied with a smirk, “i’m just that good.”

yet, while those moments should have felt triumphant, all he could think about was you. that fleeting moment when you stood up there — why couldn’t he shake the image of your smile, your shocked expression? it stirred something within him, an unsettling mix of envy and anger.

you didn’t earn it, he seethed inwardly. you didn’t work your way through sleepless nights or the pressure of making decisions that could sink a company. you just made a drink and got lucky with some influencers.

he wanted to dismiss your success as a fluke, but something about it gnawed at him. why does it bother me so much? he questioned himself, feeling a surge of confusion mixed with annoyance. you weren’t a threat, you were an annoyance, a temporary blip in the industry. yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming something more — something significant.

the thought of you overshadowing his hard-earned victories was infuriating. i won’t let you steal my thunder, he promised himself, his resolve hardening with every passing day. he could not let the narrative shift. this isn’t over; i’ll make sure everyone knows that ryomen is the name that matters, not your little hobby.

but as the days turned into weeks, sukuna found it increasingly difficult to focus solely on his empire. every time he turned on the news or scrolled through social media, your name surfaced, wrapped in praise and admiration, while he was left wondering how you had somehow infiltrated his thoughts, stirring up feelings he had long buried. it’s just a phase, he told himself, clenching his jaw. i’ll crush this little competition of yours. soon, no one will even remember your name.

but deep down, a flicker of doubt loomed. what if they do?

comment on any of the chapters to be added to the taglist, please have your age displayed or your request will be ignored! thanks (: produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

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celestiamour · 3 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?”

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #marvel #marvel x reader #x men #x men x reader

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shyravenns · 2 months ago

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This is so cute 😭 it's funny because I've actually named multiple pikachu's after price whenever I play the games lmaooo

Happy birthday!

Nikolai-based headcanons. He enjoys early morning cartoons with cereal, because it wasn't something his Soviet General father would have permitted when he was a boy; it was 'rise with the sun and get to work'.

So, when he's kipping at John's gaff, John wakes up at about 6am to find Nik cross-legged on the sofa with Rice Krispies; he's always watching Pokémon or Looney Tunes with subtitles so he doesn't wake John up.

Thank you!!!

And *yes* I can see this as being one of Nik's little indulgences that he really only allows certain people to see (much less participate in with him). Nik likes those old cartoons (think late eighties to mid 2000s) because they don't really have a longstanding plot and he can watch them whenever he has time.

Price Definitely joins him, but he prefers a Proper English Meal instead of regular cereal,,,even if Nik steals his bacon

#the idea of everyone else on 141 being gigantic powerhouse pokemon and price being a tiny pikachu is so amusing to me #ty for the snippet and i LOVE how you write nikprice btw

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rd0265667 · 4 days ago

Text

Irene X Reader: Stupid Human

shakespeare would be dead on the floor if he saw how good this was~@seullovesme

Tags: Tsundere, Genie Irene(she just reached through the screen and slapped me for calling her a genie)

There were 3 things you knew were absolute in this world, the chapter you did not study will be tested, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, and that if you made it out of this alive, Jimin was going to kill you. With a sack of potatoes, all the while telling you that she had told you so. “Stop walking home at night yourself.” She’d insist. You nodded in faux agreement, mostly to placate your best friend. Listen, Taxis are expensive, and you’d gotten self defence training, not just that, you kept a pepper spray on you, an item that Jimin seemed to have in spades. See, it’ll be fine.

Except, yeah. No. The so-called universe clearly had other ideas, because here you were, hands tied, a thick, uncomfortable blindfold over your eyes, and the scent of incense hanging around you like a curse. The blindfold ripped off with a tug, and there they were: three figures in dark robes, all with candles, strange charms, and enough assorted witchy knick knacks to look like a shitty halloween costume. Bound by a chalk-drawn circle on the cold stone floor, you realised the truth. You’d been kidnapped. By a cult.

Of course you had.

"I know, I know," you muttered under your breath, almost amused despite it all. Of course they were a cult. That’s just your luck. “Honestly, blame the author. Cliche little shit.”

“Hey, umm, fellas, can we talk this out?” You look around, trying desperately to get one of the cultists to look at you, but to no avail. “Let us begin.” The one most clad in regalia spoke, the other two nodding, as they began to chant softly.

You look at them in light amusement, despite the predicament you found yourself in. This all seemed ridiculous. This stuff didn’t exist. As if the world was on an agenda to prove you wrong today, from a small amulet lying on the table emerged a smoky figure, a cute but seemingly sinister smile on her face as her arms stayed close. Seeing the figure emerge, the three cultists immediately bowed down. “Who awakens me from my slumber.” The deep and husky voice of the figure boomed, her voice as smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous. “Oh exalted one, we bring you this fine sacrifice as an offering for your great power.” The main cultist spoke.

Sacrifice. Yeah, that word did not sound good. Panicking, your mind began to whir, neurons firing, trying as hard to think of something, a way to get out of this. “Wait! May I speak?” You quickly say, forcing the words from your mouth. All three cultists glared at you like they wished they’d gagged you sooner, one of them even moving to push you down. But with a snap of her fingers, the spirit stilled them, her gaze settling on you, curious and amused. “Speak.” “Oh exalted one, I bring you these 3 cultists as an offering for your great power.” You quickly say. There was a beat where you weren’t sure she’d respond at all, and then, she laughed—a low, husky chuckle that filled the room. “I accept.” She said, fingers snapping once again, the 3 cultists disappearing, the ropes around your wrist going free.

The spirit stood with her arms crossed, watching you with a gaze that was sharp but softened at the edges. She tilted her head, considering you, and then gave a faint, almost reluctant sigh, as if this entire situation had been some unnecessary hassle she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent.

“Well,” she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, “I guess you did offer those cultists. So, I owe you.” She paused, the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Three wishes. Don’t get too excited.” Her tone was cool, but there was a flicker in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or the barest hint of a smile she hadn’t meant to let slip. Her arms dropped from their crossed position, one hand falling casually to her side, as if relaxing just enough to test the waters.

“So,” she continued, studying you with a mix of amusement and intrigue, “what’s it going to be? ”

You raised an eyebrow. “A little excited, aren’t we?”

A tiny snort escaped her, and she gave you a look somewhere between exasperated and amused. “It’s my duty, I don’t have a choice… but I’ll admit, you’re… a little more interesting than most of the mortals who’ve tried summoning me before.”

You couldn’t help but grin, sensing you were maybe, just maybe, getting through her walls. “Guess that’s something, right?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “So,” she said again, her voice a touch less frosty, “let’s hear it. What’s your first wish?”

You raised your hands, giving her a quick shake of your head. “Look, Genie woman-” “I’m not a genie! And call me Irene.’ Irene said almost indignantly

“Alright, Irene, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t actually need any wishes,” you said, surprised at your own words even as they came out. “I mean, sure, it’d be nice to have a few things, but I don’t want to get into any of this business.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Excuse me?” she replied, her voice cool but laced with an edge of irritation. “You dragged me out of slumber, and now you’re… passing on your wishes?”

You shrugged, feeling strangely casual despite her intense stare. “In my defence, I didn’t wake you, the cultists did. And in the end, you got the cultists; I got to walk out of this situation without a scratch. So, no harm, no foul?”

She let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that simple.” Her voice softened, but you could still hear the exasperation there. “Without the wishes, I’ll be… bound to you.” Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, which she tried to hide by looking anywhere but at you. “Until your wishes are granted, I can’t sever the connection. It’s… an inconvenient rule.”

You paused, processing that, and she gave you an indignant look.

“Before you get any ridiculous ideas,” she added, her tone defensive, “this isn’t some arrangement I chose. It’s an ancient pact, one I’m obligated to follow.” She shifted uncomfortably, almost as if she were embarrassed to admit it. “So, if you have any decency, you’ll make your three wishes and let me be on my way.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise it was that serious,” you replied, trying not to smile at how put out she seemed.

“Can’t I wish for your freedom?”

“For the last time, I’m not a genie!” Irene said, her indignation now in full force

“So if I don’t make these wishes… you’re stuck with me?”

Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing. “Unfortunately, yes. And trust me, the last thing I need is to spend my time… babysitting a stupid human.”

There was a faint, grudging warmth to her tone, like she was trying to convince herself she didn’t mind either way. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely against the idea. But the flash of vulnerability was gone in an instant, and she folded her arms, looking at you with an expectant glare.

“Well, give me some time to think about it, is that okay?” You ask with a sheepish smile.

“Fine, but you’d better not make me wait.” Irene grunted, rolling her eyes before she snapped her fingers, her form turning to mist, absorbed into a spiral, flying towards the amulet.

You stared at the amulet dumbfoundedly, scratching your head. This was going to be a tough sell in therapy

“Finally here to make your first wish?” Irene grumbled as she appeared in a swirl of smoky tendrils. But when she took in the sight of you—cross-legged in a bright blue monster onesie, surrounded by enough snacks to feed a village, her confident smirk immediately faltered.

Her gaze swept over the scene, and she raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “What is all this? Some weird human ritual? Or are you trying to summon a spirit with all this… junk food?”

You rolled your eyes, catching the way her lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “No, no, nothing like that. Jimin was supposed to come over for a sleepover, but she got called into work at the last minute. And… Well, the food was for her. She eats like a bear.”

Irene huffed, crossing her arms with a look of supreme indifference. “And that concerns me why?”

“Well…” you looked up at her, trying out your best pleading eyes. “I was hoping maybe you’d help me out with it?”

“Help you out?” She arched an eyebrow, her look turning sceptical. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to waste one of your precious wishes… on food?”

You nodded, trying not to laugh. “It’s my wish, right? So technically, I can do whatever I want with it?”

She crossed her arms, lips pursed, clearly torn between annoyance and disbelief. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered, snapping her fingers. “But don’t blame me if you regret it.”

With a flash, her elaborate robes transformed into soft, striped pyjamas in muted blues and browns, her hair pulled back in a neat braid, with a scrunchie around her wrist. She looked down, then let out an irritated huff, tugging at her sleeves as if they were a personal affront.

“Um… what exactly are you doing?” you asked, biting back a laugh.

She scowled, face flushing slightly. “Look, you weren’t specific, okay? So this is what you get. I’m ‘dealing with the food,’ just like you asked.” She added the last part in a mumble, like she was thoroughly unimpressed with herself, her indignation less befitting of a supernatural power and more fit of a teenage girl stuck at home, eliciting a chuckle from you

“Uh-huh. Well… have a seat,” you said, patting the couch beside you. “And, for the record, you look amazing.”

Irene went rigid, her cheeks taking on a noticeable pink hue as she shot you a glare. “D-Don’t say dumb things like that! It’s not like I dressed up to impress you, okay? Besides, I’m a supernatural being, of course I look amazing” she snapped, but despite her protest, she slowly sat down beside you, folding her arms and turning her face away.

You just chuckled, hitting play on the remote.

A few minutes into the movie, you noticed Irene sneaking little glances at the screen. She was practically rolling her eyes at every line, but you could tell she was getting into it, her lips starting to move along to the songs.

“Seriously? Aladdin?” she asked, voice laced with mock disdain. “I’m not a genie, you know.”

“Hey, I just wanted a way to explain you to Jimin. Aladdin was the closest thing I could think of.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Irene groaned, lying down as the movie started. As the movie played, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Irene wasn’t fooling anybody. She was acting like she’d rather be anywhere but here, but she was the one humming the songs, the one bobbing her head. She seemed almost human. “What’re you looking at, stupid human.” She mumbled the last part, blushing, clearly realising that she had been caught. “Nothing, nothing, you just look really cute like that.” “Shut up!” Irene grumbled

When the movie finally ended, she cleared her throat, fixing you with a glare that was more defensive than angry. “Alright, I have to know—why would you waste a wish on something this ridiculous? You have all this power, and you just… use it on snacks?” She sounded incredulous, as if your choice was somehow a personal offence to her.

You shrugged, the humour fading from your voice. “I don’t know… I just think this kind of power doesn’t belong in anyone’s hands. ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely,’ right? I don’t think anyone ever did the world any good by trying to play god.” “That’s….new. Most of the people who used my powers just used it for their own selfish gain, but you’re different.” Irene pondered “Well, like you said, I’m an interesting mortal.” You quipped with a smile. “Stupid, but an interesting mortal.” Irene grunted. “So how does this go, does the wish just consume itself.” “Well, no, you need to say, my first wish has been granted.” Irene explains. “Alright, umm, my first wish has been granted.” You say, causing Irene to slip back into the amulet

You’d been pacing your room for nearly an hour, turning over your next wish in your mind. You were conflicted on this one. On the one hand, you didn't want to make wishes that were just made to benefit you, but…on the other hand, how much harm could this wish be? And this got Irene one step closer to being unbound from you anyways

In a swirl of smoke, Irene appeared, arms crossed, her gaze flicking over you with that ever-present mixture of annoyance and exasperation. "Another wish already?" she drawled, her voice dripping with boredom. "This had better be important. I’m busy."

You winced a little at her tone but pressed on, determined. “I—uh—I’ve got my high school reunion coming up, and, well... I don’t have a date. I was wondering if you could, you know, help out? Just, like, make sure I don’t show up looking like a total disaster?”

Irene raised an eyebrow, not a hint of sympathy in her expression. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your date? For a whole night? To keep up the charade for your high school buddies?" She scoffed, her voice thick with mockery. "Honestly, humans are so pathetic sometimes."

You shifted, feeling the familiar sting of her words, but held your ground. "I don’t need anything fancy. Just someone who won’t make me look like I’m still living in the basement."

Irene rolled her eyes. “Honestly, humans are so pathetic sometimes,” she muttered, but her gaze softened just a touch. With a deep sigh, she snapped her fingers, and in a swirl of light, her usual flowing robes were replaced by an elegant black dress, sleek and understated yet somehow breathtaking. Her hair was swept up in a loose, casual style, a few strands framing her face, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks as she looked you over with barely-concealed irritation.

“Wait,” you stammered, staring at her in surprise. “You… you’re my date?”

Irene scoffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder. “What? You thought I’d conjure up some random person and just send you off? That’s not how this works,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m your wish, so I’m the one going.”

You struggled to keep a smile off your face, but she must have caught the glimmer of excitement in your eyes because she immediately turned away, feigning exasperation. “Don’t get any ideas. This is strictly for show,” she muttered.

The reunion venue buzzed with familiar faces and old classmates, some of whom you hadn’t seen since graduation. The moment you walked in with Irene on your arm, heads turned. Her cool, detached beauty drew immediate attention, and whispers trailed after you as people cast curious glances in your direction.

Irene’s expression remained perfectly unreadable, though you noticed her eyes darting around, subtly assessing the room with a hint of wariness. You leaned toward her, whispering, “See? You’re already the most intimidating person here.”

She huffed, but a small, self-satisfied smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Hardly a challenge, considering,” she murmured.

The reunion was in full swing, the laughter and chatter echoing around the grand ballroom as old friends and classmates reunited. Irene stood beside you, her presence commanding attention in a way that almost made you forget your nerves. She was cool and collected, her eyes scanning the room as if nothing could faze her.

“Everything okay?” you asked, still a little self-conscious as people gave you curious looks when they saw Irene on your arm. It was hard to ignore the whispers floating around.

Irene turned to you, her expression unreadable but softening just a fraction. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, her tone casual but with a hint of something else—a little amusement at your discomfort. "People just like to gawk at anything different, don’t worry about it."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. It was obvious that she didn’t care about the stares. She never did. But you weren’t quite as unaffected. Still, the fact that she was here with you helped ease the tension. In her presence, with her arm looped around yours, the room didn’t feel so intimidating.

The evening passed by in a blur, with Irene at your side, casually deflecting people’s attempts to engage with her with a polite but icy tone. Her reactions ranged from curt one-liners to complete disinterest, but something about the way she carried herself made everyone respect the boundaries she set. They knew better than to push.

You caught up with some old friends, and every now and then, Irene would lean in close, offering a dry comment or two. When someone mentioned an awkward moment from high school, she would casually toss out a sarcastic remark that left the group laughing in spite of themselves. It felt almost like she was part of the conversation, even though her presence remained otherworldly.

It was when the slow music started playing, and the floor cleared a little, that Irene surprised you. She didn’t flinch when you tentatively extended your hand, as if she hadn’t even thought about it. “You’re going to make me look bad, aren’t you?” she said with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling just slightly.

You couldn’t tell whether she was teasing or genuinely reluctant. But either way, you didn’t have the courage to let the moment pass. You gently took her hand, feeling the softness of her skin and the coolness of her touch. “Just for the night,” you said quietly.

Irene nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Fine,” she muttered, but you saw the look in her eyes. There was something real there, a quiet warmth that surprised you. Something that said she didn’t mind it as much as she let on.

The music drifted through the room, the melody slow and soft, and you both swayed to it with an ease you didn’t expect. It wasn’t a grand, ballroom dance—just the quiet movements of two people trying to blend in.

Irene’s grip on your hand was firm but relaxed, her other hand lightly resting on your shoulder. The faintest glow of the room’s dim lights made the curves of her face softer than usual, and for the first time, she didn’t look like she was trying to escape.

“You’re not half-bad at this,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper as her gaze met yours. The teasing edge was gone, replaced by something else—something almost vulnerable. “You should get used to it. People will start thinking we’re a real couple.”

You tried not to let her words throw you off guard, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Is that so?” you teased, feeling a little emboldened. “Would that bother you?”

For a split second, Irene’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—something deeper, more genuine—before she straightened, letting the mask fall back into place. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said firmly, though there was a softness to her voice that didn’t quite match the sharpness of her words. “This is all for show.”

You wanted to laugh but held it in, not wanting to break the fragile moment between you, though you had to admit, you’d been enjoying yourself, and hearing that it was all for show hurt a little. Instead, you just nodded. "Of course," you murmured, your eyes lingering on hers. She quickly averted her gaze, but there was still a softness there that hadn’t been there before.

For the next few moments, you both continued to sway together, caught in the rhythm of the music. You could feel the tension between you, the space between what she wanted to be and what she was allowing herself to feel.

And then, just as the song was about to end, Irene squeezed your hand—a fleeting touch that almost felt like an accidental intimacy. Her gaze met yours for the briefest moment, a look that spoke volumes, but she quickly pulled away, her cool, aloof demeanour returning in full force.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she muttered again, but the glimmer of a smile was still present, hidden behind her usual sarcasm.

You watched her for a moment, noting the pink in her cheeks that she was desperately trying to ignore. “Thanks, Irene,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

She rolled her eyes and took a step back. “Whatever. You’re welcome.” Irene said, unable to contain a blush as she looked away

The rest of the night passed in a similar rhythm. Well, you hoped it would, but clearly not.

As the night wore on, the buzz of the reunion picked up, and more familiar faces came and went. The wine flowed freely, and the tension between past and present felt less like a weight and more like a strange mix of nostalgia and regret. You were starting to relax, enjoying the unexpected camaraderie of having Irene by your side. It had become clear she wasn’t just tolerating the evening anymore—she was leaning into it, in her own subtle way. Her usual sarcastic quips were still there, but they had a bit more warmth, a bit more playfulness.

It was then that the moment you’d been dreading—Jackson—finally made his appearance.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to spot you. His face twisted into that familiar smug grin, the one you’d spent high school trying to avoid. He sauntered over, drink in hand, his eyes immediately darting to Irene. It only took him a moment to size her up, his grin widening into something far too pleased with himself.

“Well, well, well…” He looked at you first, then back at Irene, his gaze lingering longer than it should have. “What do we have here? I didn’t think you’d ever get a date for this thing, but, well, it seems you’ve outdone yourself.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the old sting was still there, the reminder of high school’s worst moments rising to the surface. He wasn’t just an ass, he was an expert ass—a master at making people feel small.

Irene, however, didn’t flinch. Her eyes flicked over him, cool as ever. But the way her lips twisted, just slightly, into something that wasn’t exactly amusing caught you off guard. She wasn’t about to let him ruin your night. She wasn’t about to let anyone do that.

“So,” Jackson continued, taking a step closer to Irene with a suggestive grin, “did you get roped into this too, or are you the one with the real taste in men? Because, I gotta say” He motioned toward you, still grinning like he had the upper hand. “You could do a lot better.”

You tensed, but before you could say anything, Irene stepped in, her voice suddenly colder than the temperature of the room.

“Excuse me?” she cut in sharply, her tone dangerously sweet. “You think I’m here because I was roped into it?” She looked him over like she was inspecting a particularly repulsive insect. “No, darling, I’m here because I wanted to be. I wouldn’t waste my time with someone like you if I were paid to. And trust me,” she added, her voice turning slightly mocking, “I can do better than someone who thinks their charm is something worth showing off.”

The asshole’s smug expression faltered just slightly, his confidence wavering. “You can’t seriously think—” he began, but Irene cut him off again, her voice sharper than a whip.

“Oh, but I do.” Her eyes flashed with an icy intensity that made him take a step back. “But here’s the thing, buddy—you might want to look in a mirror and reconsider who’s really the joke here.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. It was the kind of smile that made people feel small. “I’m here, because I want to be here, and there is no one else I’d rather be here with. You talk a big game, but you’re just a sad sack, at least Y/N is a good person, someone who doesn’t make me want to smoothen out my ears with sandpaper”

Jackson blinked, clearly stunned by her words. He opened his mouth to respond, but Irene didn’t give him a chance. Her voice, calm and controlled, broke through the tension like a blade.

“If you’re really trying to flirt with me,” she continued, “you might want to step up your game. You might have been cute back in high school, still I doubt it, never had a thing for bullies with a Napoleon complex bigger than their little peanuts, but now? Well, it’s clearer now that nothing about you’s changed. You’re still the same pathetic little boy trying to prove something that doesn’t matter.”

His face turned a shade of red you couldn’t quite describe. He opened his mouth again, stammering, but no words came out. Finally, he turned on his heel, muttering something under his breath before practically running away.

You stood there, blinking in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. That had been… unexpected. Irene was usually so detached, so indifferent, that seeing her actually stand up for you—really stand up for you—felt different

She stood there for a moment, arms crossed, her usual confident mask still in place. But when she turned to you, her eyes softened for just a moment, concern, care, maybe even a tinge of affection, all wrapped in one, just enough that you could see the faintest glimmer of something like… pride?

“You’re not a complete disaster, you know,” she said quietly, looking at you as if she were trying to convince herself more than anything. “That guy was pathetic, but you? You’ve got more going for you than you think.”

You blinked, not entirely sure how to respond. “Thanks,” you said after a beat, your voice soft but full of sincerity.

She rolled her eyes, the typical Irene sarcasm flooding back. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let him run his mouth. Someone had to shut him down.” Her gaze flickered briefly to the spot where Jackson had since retreated, and she smirked. “Honestly, he deserved it. Can’t believe people like that still exist.”

You could see her trying to hide the fact that she did care, that she hadn’t just defended you out of duty. But the way her gaze lingered on you for a second too long gave it away.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she muttered, her hand brushing yours as she moved to leave the crowd behind. But before you could walk away, she glanced over her shoulder. “And don’t think for one second I’m doing this for you. I’m only here because I’m bored. Remember that.”

Just as you were about to leave, however, you heard a soft song began to play. “May I have one last dance?” You asked, bowing your head as you extended your hand to Irene. Irene didn’t immediately respond, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss you or make some sharp comment. But when you looked at her, you saw something else—something subtle in the way she relaxed, just a fraction. She sighed, eyes flickering from you to the floor and back again, and for the briefest moment, you saw that tiny spark of warmth she usually hid so well.

“Don’t make me regret this. You’re lucky I like this song.” she muttered, her voice soft but steady.

With a small, almost imperceptible smile, you led her to the centre of the ballroom. The music swelled around you, filling the space with a gentle rhythm as the two of you settled into the dance. The movement was slow, effortless—just the two of you, caught in a moment of quiet connection. Irene’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and hers in your hand was warm, soft, but her fingers still held that quiet, guarded strength that reminded you who she was.

Her gaze stayed just slightly averted, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing, and it made your heart skip a beat. You’d seen her icy exterior so many times, but here, in the privacy of this slow dance, there was something else—something less perfect, less guarded.

“I didn’t expect you to dance like this,” she said, her voice surprisingly soft, the teasing edge in her tone barely there. “I thought you'd be a disaster.”

You chuckled quietly, not wanting to break the delicate silence between you. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

Her lips quirked, so subtle it was barely noticeable, like a wind in the storm. "I guess so." She shifted slightly, her other hand resting gently on your arm, her movements smooth, as though she was slowly letting go of her usual defenses. For a moment, you felt her melt into you, and it made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t quite place.

The song continued, and the two of you swayed in perfect rhythm, as though you’d done this a hundred times before. You couldn’t help but notice how close you were now, how every little movement seemed to draw her nearer. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air, warm and comforting, and you couldn’t resist stealing glances at her—just a quick look at the way her face softened in the quiet of the dance.

Irene’s gaze flickered toward the ground for a second, but when she looked back at you, it was with a rare, almost hesitant warmth. "I don't do this," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Hmm?” You hum in curiosity as you continue to sway.

"Letting people close. But…"

"But?" you prodded gently, your heart thumping just a little faster.

Her eyes met yours again, and for the first time all night, you saw something different—a quiet acceptance, not of you, but of the moment. “But it’s not the worst thing.” She looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink now, but you caught a smile tugging at her lips.

You both danced in silence for a while, the music winding down, the world outside of the ballroom forgotten. Her hand tightened around yours, just a fraction, as if to hold on to this fleeting moment, a moment she’d never admit to wanting.

As the final notes of the song drifted into silence, you weren’t ready to let go. So, you didn’t. You held her for just a little longer, letting the stillness of the moment settle between you. Her breath was steady, her chest rising and falling against yours, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed for a second. It felt peaceful—almost perfect.

But then, of course, Irene cleared her throat, breaking the moment with her usual sharpness. “Well, that wasn’t terrible,” she said, voice laced with sarcasm, though her tone was quieter than usual. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m not turning into some sentimental fool just because you managed to stand on your feet without tripping.”

You smiled at the playful edge in her voice. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Her lips twitched, the faintest sign of a smile, but she quickly masked it again. “Good. Let’s get out of here before you start thinking I actually enjoyed that.” But there was something in her voice—a softness beneath the teasing—that told you more than her words ever could.

As the two of you pulled away from the dance floor, the night seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a quiet understanding between you. Irene, despite all the walls she’d built around herself, had let a little bit of them fall tonight. And in that moment, with her hand still resting lightly in yours, you knew this was more than just a dance. It was the start of something new—something neither of you had expected, but both of you felt deep down.

But Irene? She would never say it. She simply looked at you, rolling her eyes, and muttered, "I’m not a damsel in distress, so don’t go getting any ideas about saving me, okay?"

You grinned, your heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. “I’m not,” you replied, but the unspoken truth hung between you two—there was something here, something that went beyond what either of you would admit.

“Well, the night’s over.” Irene said, her usual matter of fact tone, but you sensed a lower, almost unspoken tone to her voice, as if she was almost disappointed. “Yeah, I guess it is. My second wish is granted.” You say, Irene vanishing back into the amulet. You rest your hand on the amulet, allowing your hand to linger. You hadn’t wanted Irene’s power, you still didn’t, but you had come to value her presence, and this night had just left you wanting for more. Too bad you only had one more wish left.

You let out a long sigh, stepping out of the shop with your groceries clutched in your hands. You had to make your last wish soon. It was always part of the plan—the last step, the one you had promised yourself to fulfil. It’s what you wanted at first, and it’s what Irene had said she wanted, too. But now that the moment had come, the hesitation clung to you like a weight around your chest.

You couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right. After everything that had happened between you two—after everything you had gone through together—the idea of letting her go felt more and more like an impossible choice. She might’ve wanted her freedom, sure, but now that it was so close, you weren’t sure if you were ready for the finality of it.

Your footsteps echoed in the cool evening air as you walked, the weight of the decision pressing in. Distracted by your thoughts, you barely noticed the soft sound of footsteps trailing behind you. It was too quiet, too deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder. Figures. Three men, walking too close. They emerged from the shadows with knowing grins, their eyes narrowing as they stared at your bags.

"Hey, you!" one of them shouted, his voice thick with menace as he sized you up. "Looks like you’ve got some nice bags there. Why don’t you hand ‘em over?"

You groaned. “Of course, first a kidnapping, then a mugging. The writer needs to get some new material.”

The leader stepped forward, his face twisting into a grin that made your stomach flip. "Shut it. Empty your pockets. Now."

The second man—tall, broad-shouldered—took a step closer, and the third, a wiry figure, pulled out a knife. The metal gleamed menacingly in the dim light, sending a chill down your spine. Your pulse quickened. This was bad. So bad.

You needed a way out. Anything.

Panic clawed at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you reached up to your chest, hand on the amulet resting on your neck.

The air around you shifted. A swirl of light filled the street, and the men froze, confusion flashing across their faces. In the blink of an eye, Irene appeared, stepping into the scene with effortless grace. Her presence was like ice—cool, calculating, and impossibly beautiful. She didn’t even look at the men as she turned her sharp gaze toward them, her eyes narrowing in distaste.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Her voice was low, smooth, but underneath it was something far more dangerous. She didn’t move, only stood still, her cold stare cutting through the group.

The leader’s bravado faltered just for a second, but it was enough. He took a step back, eyes wide with fear. "What the hell are you supposed to be? A freak?" he spat, trying to sound tough despite the growing unease in his voice.

Irene didn’t even blink. Instead, she flicked her wrist. The knife in the leader’s hand was torn from his grip with a flick of her fingers, sent spinning across the pavement, clattering into the street. His face twisted with shock, eyes widening as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"Didn’t see that coming, did you?" Irene’s voice was syrupy sweet, dripping with sarcasm. She turned her attention to the second man without missing a beat. Before he could react, Irene was on him, her hand wrapping around his wrist in an iron grip. With one fluid motion, she twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into the pavement with brutal force.

The third man, seeing the others go down so easily, hesitated, his eyes darting around as if looking for a way out. But Irene was quicker. She raised a hand, and in an instant, the man was yanked off his feet, his body jerking toward her like a puppet on invisible strings. He flailed uselessly as she pulled him closer, her expression unchanging.

"Running?" Irene’s voice was dark with amusement. "How pathetic."

She lifted her hand higher, and with a final flick, she sent him crashing into a nearby dumpster with a sickening thud. The man groaned, crumpled against the metal, barely conscious but too dazed to fight back.

The leader was the last one standing, his face pale, eyes flicking nervously between Irene and his downed companions. Irene stepped forward, her gaze steady and dangerous. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood," she said, her voice smooth and cold, "but you do not threaten my human."

The man stumbled backward, his legs trembling. But Irene didn’t let him get far. With a swift movement, she grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground with a terrifying ease.

"Get out of here before I make you regret it," she warned, her voice colder than the air around you.

The man’s pride shattered as he scrambled to his feet, his resolve gone. He turned and fled, leaving his comrades behind, their groans the only sounds as they slowly regained their senses. Irene let him go, her shoulders relaxed but her eyes never leaving the spot where he had disappeared.

You stood there, still processing what had just happened. Your heart was hammering, your legs shaking slightly, but the adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off. You couldn’t believe what you’d just witnessed..

Irene turned to you, her usual cool mask still in place, but there was something different in her eyes. Something almost... soft. "I... I don’t know what to say. You just... saved me."

Her eyes flickered over to you, and she let out a sigh, her usual nonchalance slipping back into place. "Don’t get all sentimental," she muttered, crossing her arms in front of her. "It’s not like I did it for you."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a nervous sound, but a laugh all the same. The tension was melting away, replaced by a strange warmth. "I know. But still, thanks. You really... protected me."

Irene’s gaze flickered away, and her cheeks flushed just a little. "It’s not a big deal," she grumbled, the sharpness in her voice fading. "Just don’t go getting yourself mugged again. You’re a pain in the ass to deal with."

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. "I’ll try not to. Promise."

She shot you a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, you better."

The two of you walked in silence for a moment, the street around you quiet once again. The world felt a little less heavy now, your body still shaking but comforted by her presence.

You glanced down at your Amulet, then back at Irene. "I guess this is it, huh? My last wish?"

Irene froze. For a moment, she looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Her eyes widened, and she blinked, mouth parting as if she was about to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she stammered, the icy coolness in her voice replaced by something... far less composed.

"That wasn’t a wish!" She snapped, her face flushed with embarrassment. "That was—! You—you didn’t wish for that! You’re—!"

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by her reaction. "But this is what you wanted, Irene. You're free now, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Irene opened her mouth, then quickly shut it again, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. Her hands clenched, and in a flash, she bolted—vanishing into the amulet in a swirl of light, leaving you standing there, confused and left alone.

The apartment door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing in your ears as you stood there, groceries still in hand. It had been weeks since you’d last seen your family, and you hadn’t been looking forward to this visit, but you couldn’t keep avoiding them. Not anymore. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you walked further into the dimly lit hallway of your childhood home. You had enough on your mind as it was, Irene having refused to emerge from the amulet

The place was just as you remembered—dusty corners, faded pictures on the walls, the smell of old furniture and lingering tension. You could feel it in the air before you even heard the voices.

"...You always do this, Mom. It's the same damn thing every time!" Your younger brother, Noah, yelled from the living room. "You never listen to anything I say. You just—"

"Noah, I told you, this isn’t a damn democracy! I’m the one who pays the bills here!" Your mother’s voice was strident, her temper rising as usual.

"You think you’re the only one who has problems, huh? You think it’s easy to get by in this house when everyone expects me to be some perfect kid?" Noah snapped back, his voice laced with bitterness.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, dragging you back into memories you had long buried. The fighting, the yelling, the way they always pulled you into the middle of it. You’d spent your whole childhood walking on eggshells, trying to soothe the chaos, but it never worked. It never made them stop.

And now here you are again. As much as you tried to get away, you always ended up back here. The familiar pain crept back into your chest, an old wound reopening, threatening to consume you.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away.

In the living room, your father’s voice cut through the argument, trying to mediate, but it was no use. His calm was as fragile as glass, and you knew it wouldn’t take much to shatter it. “Both of you need to calm down! This isn’t helping anyone!” he shouted, but no one listened.

You stood at the edge of the hallway, the tension in the air pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You wanted to go in. You wanted to be the peacekeeper, the one who fixed everything like you always did. But you could already feel the familiar panic creeping in, the suffocating sense of being caught in the middle. It was too much. It had always been too much.

You froze, the words slamming into you like a wave. The argument wasn’t directed at you, but it didn’t matter. The noise—sharp, accusatory, rising and overlapping—burrowed into your chest. It dragged you back, pulling you under, to a time you couldn’t seem to forget.

The yelling. The anger. The helplessness.

When you were a kid, this was the soundtrack to your life. You’d spent countless nights hiding under your blankets, trembling as the walls seemed to shake with their shouting. Even now, as an adult, the sound didn’t just echo in your ears—it lived in your body, burrowing into the spaces where fear and pain had carved out homes long ago.

The voices got louder, blending into one another until they were an unintelligible roar. Your hands tightened around the bag of groceries until the plastic handles bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to ground you. Your chest tightened, your breaths coming too fast, too shallow. The hallway around you seemed to blur, the walls closing in as your heart pounded harder, faster.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

And the worst part? You knew this would happen. You knew. But you came anyway, thinking this time would be different. It never was.

Your vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling hot and heavy down your cheeks. A small, broken sound escaped your lips—a plea, a whisper of desperation, before clutching your chest.

The words barely left your mouth before the air in front of you shifted. A sudden rush of cold, then a plume of silvery smoke, shimmering faintly in the dim light. From the haze, Irene emerged.

Her figure was unmistakable, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. The usual air of superiority that clung to her was still there, but it softened the moment her gaze landed on you. Her expression changed instantly, the sharp edges melting into something you’d rarely seen from her—concern.

“What’s happening?” Irene asked, her voice low but urgent as she crouched down in front of you. Her hands hovered near your shoulders, unsure for a moment, before finally settling there. “Hey. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t do anything but shake your head as the tears kept falling. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, and you gasped, clutching at your chest.

“Shit,” Irene muttered, her voice tinged with panic. “Okay, okay. Listen to me. You’re safe. You’re okay. Just breathe. Can you do that for me? In through your nose. That’s it.”

Her hands moved to cup your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Her touch was cool, grounding, and her voice—low, steady—cut through the noise in your head like a lifeline.

“Focus on me,” she urged, her tone softer now. “Whatever’s happening out there doesn’t matter. None of it can touch you. You’re here. You’re with me. Just keep breathing.”

Bit by bit, the tightness in your chest eased. Your sobs turned into shaky breaths, though your shoulders still trembled under her steady hands.

When you finally managed to meet her gaze, her usual sharpness was gone. The Irene looking at you now was softer, her eyes filled with something warmer, more protective.

“They were yelling again,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely audible. “It just—it reminded me of when I was a kid. I couldn’t stop it then, and I still can’t... I just...”

Irene’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering toward the muffled argument still raging in the living room. When she looked back at you, there was a quiet fury in her expression, like she’d burn the world down in an instant.

“You don’t have to stop it,” she said firmly. “You don’t have to fix it, or even deal with it. That’s not your job. And it’s sure as hell not worth tearing yourself apart over.”

She pulled you closer, her arm wrapping around you protectively. “Whatever this place took from you, it doesn’t get to keep taking. Not while I’m here.”

You leaned into her, the warmth of her words wrapping around you as much as her presence. For a long moment, you just let her hold you, her steady breaths anchoring you.

When the tension in your body finally eased, you pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. “Irene...” you began, hesitating. “Why haven’t you taken my last wish yet? You just disappeared...”

Her expression softened, but only for a fleeting moment before she crossed her arms and glanced to the side, her cheeks faintly pink. “I—I didn’t disappear. I was... busy. Important genie things, you wouldn’t understand.”

Your brow furrowed. “Important genie things?”

“Yes. Very important,” she shot back, her tone defensive. “Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of moping around all day.”

You tilted your head, a small, teasing smile forming despite yourself. “Irene, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

Her blush deepened as she snapped, “Avoiding you? Don’t flatter yourself! Why would I avoid someone like you?” She turned her nose up, but the crack in her voice betrayed her.

“Then why?” you pressed gently, your gaze steady on her.

Irene hesitated, her sharp facade faltering as her eyes darted away again. She muttered something under her breath, too quiet for you to catch.

“What was that?”

“I said…” She huffed, her arms tightening over her chest as her blush spread down to her neck. “I didn’t want you to use up the wishes, okay? Are you happy now?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You didn’t want me to use the wishes? But I thought you wanted to leave. To be done with humans. To be done with... me.”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, wide and flustered. “Wha—Why would you think that?! I never said that! Don’t just go putting words in my mouth, you idiot!”

Your grip on her forearm tightened, grounding her. “So you don’t want to leave?”

Irene froze, her lips pressing together before she let out a groan, dragging a hand through her hair. “Maybe—maybe it’s not so bad,” she admitted begrudgingly, her voice dropping to a mumble. “If it’s with you.”

The vulnerability in her tone caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged at your lips. “Of course. I’m your human, aren’t I?”

Irene’s eyes widened before her blush turned scarlet. She immediately buried her face in her hands with a muffled, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you heard that.”

“I did,” you said, unable to suppress a light chuckle.

“Don’t you dare read into it!” Irene snapped, lowering her hands just enough to glare at you. Her face was still bright red, her pout far more endearing than intimidating. “I am not some lovesick little puppy, got it? I’m still an all-powerful genie, and you—y-you’re just a ridiculous human who happens to need a lot of supervision, that’s all!”

“Whatever you say,” you replied, your tone soft as you leaned closer.

Her breath hitched as you reached out, cupping her face and pulling her in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“W-What—” Irene spluttered, pulling back with a glare that was more flustered than furious. “What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just—you can’t just go kissing me like that without warning!”

You grinned. “I thought you were all-powerful. Shouldn’t you have seen it coming?”

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again as she struggled to find a retort. Finally, she turned away with an exaggerated huff, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “Completely ridiculous.”

“Not bad for a stupid human, aren’t I?” You tease, hugging Irene tightly

Irene rolled her eyes, but by now, she could do little to stave off the smile on her face. Seungwan would laugh at her, of that she had no doubt, but you were her stupid human now. And she didn’t mind it.

#irene bae x reader #irene x reader #irene #irene red velvet #irene bae #red velvet irene #red velvet x reader #red velvet fic #red velvet scenarios #red velvet #kpop writing #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop idol x reader #kpop imagines #kpop gg #rd0265667 #fluff

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hotcheetohatredwastaken · 5 months ago

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July LU Write-a-Thon: 351,092 Words in One Day!

On July 1, we hosted our second monthly LU Write-a-thon (organized by @not-freyja and @hotcheetohatredwastaken and joined by their new mods @noorahqar, @a-manicured-lawn, and @winterfen). The purpose of this event was to write as many productive words—words that furthered yourself, the LU writing community at large, or your own stories—within 24 hours as humanly possible.

We had a whopping 90+ participants as opposed to our previous 16 - none of us expected such a large turnout, and were suitably unprepared 😅 We’ll definitely be making a lot of changes to accommodate that many people during the next Write-a-Thon, occurring August 1st. Thank you all for your patience!

But, until next month, here’s the awards and titles earned by each participant, as voted upon by the Discord server through an anonymous survey. The mods read through all your hundreds of submissions (thank you guys so much!) and picked either the highest voted title or the funniest custom submission for each person, as we found appropriate. First up is the winner’s circle, then the clubs, and then everybody else in alphabetical order right below this readmore!

The Winner’s Circle (5 Most Wordiest)

20,037 “Writer of All Time” and “Most Likely to Make 1K become 100K” (As can be seen in all its glory in your Aspects AU) @tashacee: You took advantage of Freyja and Cheeto’s beefing about who would be first and snapped up the win right from under their noses. Well played!

20,011 “Writer of Some of the Time” and “Pen and Paper (Scritch... Scratchy?)” @hotcheetohatredwastaken: Missed the mark by juuust a bit, for the second time in a row. Cheeto, you suck. (:3 –Cheeto) (Qar wrote this, for reference!). Also wrote for most of the marathon on pen and paper!

17,491 “Writer of Last Time” (for winning last month and then failing to defend their title) and “The FourShadow-er of all Time” (for the unholy amount of Chekov’s Guns they leave lying around loaded in their docs) @not-freyja: you are the most autistic about Legend. Nerd.

13,203 “Will Make You Cry” and “Captain of the Twilight Angst Tag on Ao3” @somer-writes: Boosting the Twilight economy, and we’re all happy about it. Also the second-funniest person in the server, with the second-most stars!

13,000 “AU Collector” and “Four Enjoyer” @zarvasace: Whether they're heroes with disabilities, space rangers, or vampires, if Mina wrote it, the boys will be written well.

Clubs

Now while everyone’s accomplishments as individuals were nothing to sneeze at, teamwork does in fact make the dream work. A few lovely people made a couple of equally lovely groups, either by their own choice or as assigned by peer review.

Aimed for the Funny Numbers Club

“Literally Satan” @allwayswildchild: with exactly 6666 words, you deserve every bit of this cursed title.

“Lawn Blart Mall Cop” and “Qar's Mom in a Moment of Weakness Apparently (And Then Qar’s Sister in a Moment of Un-Weakness)” @a-manicured-lawn: The latter explains itself. Apparently, the vision of Lawn segwaying around is amusing. [Some people just can’t appreciate the beauty of a white shirt, tie, and glorious moped… ~Lawn]

“The Reincarnated” @defenestration13: Hadn't written in six months but then reappeared to write multiple thousand words. Good job.

“Multimedia Powerhouse” @passerinesoncaffeine: The art, the writing, Raven's got it all! Painting, analyzing music, commenting, whatever you touch it turns to gold.

“Dark Miette” goes to @rebornofstars: An inside joke that I don’t understand. Also thought you should know that you got [insert bee pun].

“The Memer” and “Literally Wind” @savimatteo2810: These are related.

“The Quoter” @whatvioletdoes-blog: For spending the event harvesting quotable quotes for their chat-fic.

(freyja overshot all potential funny numbers, but is a member at heart)

Most Likely to Get Fangirled (Gender Neutral) Over Club

“Literally Hyrule” @across-violet-skies: Also called the Spunky Sidekick and a calming jasmine tea type person. Hopefully your ghost pepper recovery goes well.

“The Snippeter” @imperialkatwala: For sharing so many snippets to us hungry folk. Thank you kindly.

“Friend Shaped” @polynomialpandemic: A friend to all. Also a “Snippeter” - thank you for feeding the masses!

“Four Tormentor” @undertheopensky: For really obvious reasons. Also managed to make Freyja scream for 10 minutes with your mere presence alone!

Other Friend Groups

“Sad Wet Cat Club” @cinis0 and @lunaopus, you two seem to have nominated one another, so you get this club all to yourselves! However, I would love to know what the talk of forgetting that the Queen died was about…. (Qar has requested to be an honorary member of this club)

@awildsilver and @four-eyed-nerd, you two get to come together as “Four-Eyed-Nerd’s Rat” and “AWildSilver’s Cat,” which is I think our favorite group of all in this month’s running. I do have some additional questions for you two, however, about a mention of the bee movie as an original work (allowed as long as it’s not copy pasted and also hilarious) for you Wild and the title “Honey I shrunk the Links” for you, Four.

The Community Support Team

“The Commentator of All Time” @1-renegade: To directly quote, “Ain't NOBODY give better feedback and comments than lawlessland.”

“Will Make You Cry” @artsyanonymity: Anonymity is the sweetest and kindest commenter in existence! SHE. WILL. MAKE. YOU. CRy. Writes the nicest comments and they make me (and apparently several others) cry

“The Encouragement Itself” @cat-at-a-writing-desk: For encouraging others to reach their goals. We appreciate you!

“Drill Sergeant” @gintrinsic-writing: Made Qar get 5k and scared everyone else into writing. (You did it! I got 5k! The fear (with funny intonation) dragged me over the finish line -Qar)

“Drawer of A Thousand Words” @la-sera: Ruler of the Legend and Hyrule brotherhood, inspirer of writers, and the spreader of so much love with your art this Fan Joy July with the art you spent the marathon working on. Can’t wait to see it all as the month goes on.

“The Reader of all Time” @life-in-winter: Or as you all probably know her, passerine44, the writer of the best ao3 comments of all time. Thea, you walk into a digital room and every writer there makes heart eyes at you. Cannot wait to read the writing you’ve been working on (and leave a comment) to return the favor.

“The Respondent of All Time” @silvrash-797: Silvrash had over four months of unanswered ao3 comments that she caught up with, congrats!

“Lives up to the Screen Name” @sunny-porridge: To quote: “Sunny is 100% a ray of sunshine and anyone who says otherwise can FIGHT ME” and I think we all agree.

“The Wildest Supporter.” @twilightangel83: Supported people and sent a lot of Wild emojis, so much so that we started picturing you as Wild!

“Poet” and “Master of the Shrimp Check” @winterfen: Writes good poetry, and also made sure that everyone was appropriately fed, hydrated, and rested for this event.

Transfer Students

“I don’t work here, Lady” goes to bArk who neither has a tumblr nor writes for this fandom, but showed up and had fun anyways. Thanks for joining us!

“He Who Finished His Book” goes to jr_for_potus44 (not on Tumblr). Congrats!

“Split Screen” goes to @straight-outta-hobbiton for writing two fics on two screens at the same time, neither of which were LU. Frightening.

The Silent Ones

@pelicanpig, @mmelete, @wayfayrr, @raeofsky, @summaryscar @sunkissedkales: You guys came, you wrote, you did not elaborate. How mysterious your aura is (positive, deeply positive.)

"The Almost Silent One" @the-au-collector: Talked before and after, but not during the event. Probably too busy writing, or busy in general - good job either way!

Everybody else!

“Frequent Flier (WPM)” @anime-obsessed: For participating in so many sprints. Also earned “vocaloid enjoyer.”

“Keyboard Warrior” @august-the-friend: You fought autocorrect and lost 3-0, but it was a valiant fight nonetheless. You did great.

“Artist turned Writer” @aurora-boreas-borealis: Took a break from streaming to write—a huge shout out for all your hard work and your help with colors! (~the actual pigments, not the Links ~Lawn)

“Literally Sun” @beesandhoney1219: Warmer than sunlight, sweeter than sugar, and absolutely obsessed with Sky’s girlfriend.

“Most Likely to Include Raccoons in their Fic” @bittirsweeteer: They Who Has Given Legend Espresso (thank you for your service).

“Last Minute Vidow” @deleetrix: Something that should always be encouraged. Thank you for feeding us.

“Stargiver” @emberlylion: For starring in a lot of posts, especially cat pics. Thank you for your service.

Move over Time, @estelian-01 “Will Fight Majora and Win” and then go back to studying.

“Studious Student Who (has not) Studied” @gerudoevernight: Self nominated for “Studious Student who Studied” for hitting their goal while in school. The mod team disagreed with the accuracy of that title and affectionately chose this one instead. Good job hitting your goal!

“The Outliner” @gia-d: Accidentally wrote a first draft. Also think it should be noted that everyone is convinced you either could kill a god or that you carry one around in your pocket.

“Onomatopoeia Outrage” @haloburns: Who debated the word “ow” so hard they inflicted it on the people around them.

“The Scholar” @irenkaferalkitty: For her extensive collection of well-researched data, presented in charts, documents and yes, excel sheets. We appreciate you.

“Most Improved” @labyrinthdancer: Their writing has improved a lot since they started posting! also they write really dark twilight & the chain fics. Being a new writer is scary, but they kept at it and are doing so well!

“Writer of Most Cursed Victorian Child” aka their take on Ravio, is @lele5429 with their first ever fic, which is as gorgeous in words as your art is in ink.

“The Hype Man (gender neutral)/Moral Support” @lemoncatssss: For all the encouragement that you gave others. Also the cat photos. Especially the cat photos.

“The accidental friend acquirer” @lennsart: For somehow befriending literally every single person you talk to.

“Severe Case of Clacking” @lerikwrites: You know why. Pennies in a washing machine my friend.

“Hyrule Hurter” goes to @linkiscool333: We all have the blorbo we love to put in the blender, but no one blends Rulie like you do.

“Marcus Actually Writes!?” @marcusdoodlesalot: For a second month in a row, some of us are still befuddled that Marcus is actually a writer, and not just an artist. Hard to believe that someone can have that much talent in both fields.

“Soup Soup Soup Soup Soup (Soup Soup Soup Soup Soup)” @marsnoodlesoup: I... do not know what this means. Congrats, it seems you’re soup.

“The Veteran” @musical-chan: For sharing stories of the early days of fandom. Back in my day but the most positive way possible

“Artist Turned Writer” @mysticstars105: Came out and wrote a whopping 400 words, which is so many words especially when you’re new. Gold Star!

“Art Fight Pre-Gaming” @nebulapaws: For their talk of Art Fight. Hope you have fun participating this month!

“Resident Audiophile” @needfantasticstories: Not just for writing with speech-to-text all day, but for your constant enthusiastic screaming about Epic the musical.

“Most likely to fight God and Win” and “The Modderrrrrr” @noorahqar: Who is actually Sky. Not with the sleepy part though. She actually wrote so much about Sky that he stole all her sleepy. Number one on the starboard, with the proud title of MVM (Most Valuable Mod) for sticking the landing as midnight hit. Also the one with “The Most Sigmas to Grindset” whatever… whatever that means. (Please help what does that mean?)

“Picture Perfect Exhaustion” @nyastri: Their PFP (Four Doubled Over, hands on knees) combined with the announcement they'd reached their writing goal at the end of the marathon really just sold the picture for me. Well done.

“The Sleepy One” @ocha-blue: who justifiably went to bed as soon as they finished. (Hope you're recovered by now.)

“First Time Fic Writer” @peepthatbish: for breaking into the fic scene and boosting morale for our mod team, especially Lawn. We appreciate you!

“Slow And Steady (WPM)” @pokegeek151: Who was chugging away all day long.

“Doomed by the Narrative” @ra-archives: Google docs acting up, cat sitting on lap, and yet you persisted. Good job.

“My Little Friend Who I Love (This Is Qar Btw) (This Is Part Of The Title)” and “Wordsmith” @rosehipandroots: This is a direct copy paste from your submissions, Rose. Hope you enjoy it. But your amazing descriptions really make you a wordsmith. “The SkyBoy Enjoyer of All Time” @sapphicseasapphire: for your lovely art and writing of the boy!

“Task Succeeded Successfully” @screaming-but-i-have-four-swords: was an artist turned writer that tried to write words, and did! Good job.

“Artist Turned… More Artist” @seaotter-17: We were told you write descriptions like a poet, but in this event, you were most recognizable by your drawings of Nina the cat. Thank you for sharing.

The “Person with a Passion for Pudding” (which is definitely an inside joke I do not understand, so I hope it makes you laugh) @somanyfanficssolittletime: Thanks for participating!

“The Fic Reccer of all Time” @staring-at-a-blank-page: For recommending so many fics, their own and others, up to read. Thank you!

“The Drabbler” @tenderleavesbob: For their lovely drabbles, of which they wrote around 10k of. The title is appropriate - it seems your drabbles have taken Tumblr (and the participants in this survey) by storm!

“100% Bunny Accurate Fiction” @toyouhellohowareyou: writer of the most rabbit-fact-checked fics of all time by our own Bunny Lord [Beloved Pet and Bunny Boy (Legend) Himself]

“The Podficcer of All Time” @unexpectedstormy: For podfic making, promoting, and educating. And if that wasn’t enough fae is also our very own “Dragon Tamer” who spent the event working on their HTTYD WIP!

“The Dashshunder” @vivalaplutothedachshund: For sharing your lovely menace of a dog Pluto with us all. We also appreciate you both in the chats and in our rampage to give PolynomialPandemic 109 hugs.

“Mod Emotional Support. We love you” @wanderlustmagician: You know what you did, and Cheeto’s firstborn deservedly belongs to you.

“Word Weaver” and “Fanfiction Foul---was writing at work instead of working” @weavingstarlight: Your words sparkle as bright as you do, glitter jar.

“Literally First (also shared cat pics)” @witchdoctor39 : Even Hylia can’t hold a candle to how much you love that poor poor man!

Thank all of you for participating, we appreciate each and every one of you so so so much! Please note that we had 90+ participants, and as such, there is probably guaranteed to be some mistakes on the list above. If you find any typos or pronoun goofs or anyone that was put on the list twice or missing or under the wrong name or put under the wrong name or any error that comes with having different discord and tumblr names or if you were left off the list in error or if you want to request a different name than the one you received or you want to be put into or removed from one club or another or anything else that could have gone wrong—please feel free to contact @hotcheetohatredwastaken or @not-freyja with your concerns here on tumblr!

Again, a big thank you to everyone for coming to the event from all of us on the mod team! Can’t wait to see you guys next month! And stay tuned---there will be another post with more information about the next event within the next couple of weeks!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu write-a-thon #lu write a thon #big thank you for all the mods that helped with this event!#fandom event #lu fanfiction #lu fanfic #lu fic #lu write a thon july 2024 #lu write-a-thon july 2024

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zorosbeau33 · 8 months ago

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They get turned into a cat~ Luffy x reader headcanon

❖ One Piece, Luffy x Gender Neutral reader

❖ Headcanon, series?, fluff, comedy

❖ No warnings today~

❖ wc: 422

❖ @tojiseviltwin @kimnamshiks ❖ Masterlist ❖

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Luffy got hit by that devil fruit users ability and now your boyfriend is a very fluffy, gangly, skinny powerhouse of a cat

He was already averse to water but cat Luffy? Oh god talk about fluffed and hissing, poor Zoro got an arm full of claws as he wrapped himself tight around the swordsman’s bicep

You probably find it cute but Nami thinks he looks disheveled as his short har somehow refuses to lie completely flat There is always one part that is just sticking up

Everyone's hands are full when he gets hungry because how do you keep out to world's nimblest creature with the added ability of a gumgum fruit?

Please try the cat temperament test he dangles very well in your grip and swings side to side then suddenly his but and back legs are on the ground as his body oddly stretches, it's hilarious

Extremely cuddly, he realized the sun felt amazing but even better if he could toast his fur and toe beans while lying in your lap. You will be stuck there for several hours

Luffy once the laughs are over and he is no longer amused at himself is hissing and growling and fluffed demanding to go find and fight the user to get his normal body back

This realization probably came when he couldn’t kiss you, or when his hat became a prison as he was too small to fit and it was the same as covering him in a box

Choppers test of catnip on him was adorable at first, watching him roll over and over and how he purred up a storm

Then Nami was screaming and Franky had to build a quick cat tower because Cat Luffy was high on life and wanted to zoom and climb like a possessed demon of the night

All in all, it was an amusing time and he was also very amused by it again once back to normal

I hope you are strong enough as Luffy wants to try the cat temperament test again now that he is back to normal

Please tell him he’s cuter the normal way because secretly he’s worried for a moment or two that you’d be disappointed to have lost your kitty cat

Once he understands it was nice but you prefer him he’s bouncing and sunny again, please pay no mind to his babbled plans to get you guys a kitty to play with at the next island…or maybe pay attention to them because he means it

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officallunar · 1 year ago

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“Whoever said money can’t solve your problem,must not have had enough money to solve ‘em”

Lyrics are from the song 7 rings.

Fatui harbaingers reacting to you saying that quote?

[I really have no new ideas so I just see if there is any songs that I can write about or something along the lines lol]

I love this song frfr

Childe

Leaning against a market stall in Liyue, you casually declared, "Whoever said money can't solve your problems must not have had enough to solve 'em." As you spoke, Childe, the playful harbinger of the Fatui, approached with a mischievous smirk. "A fellow believer in the power of wealth, I see," he said, twirling his Hydro-infused blades. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was more truth to your statement than you had initially thought.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche, the depressing Harbinger, couldn't resist adding his theatrical flair to the conversation. "Well, well, aren't you the little Mora enthusiast?" he quipped, a playful glint in his eye. "But you see, money is just one note in the grand symphony of power. A dazzling performance is what truly captivates the audience." His whimsical words left an impression, highlighting the unpredictable nature of the Harbingers.

Dottore

As you boldly declared, "Whoever says money can't solve all your problems must not have had enough to solve 'em," Dottore's piercing gaze fixated on you. A wry smile played on his lips, a reflection of the intricate calculations running through his so-brilliant mind. "An astute observation," he remarked, his tone carrying the weight of someone who had divided into the complexities of power and wealth. In that moment, it became evident that your words had triggered the gears of his curious intellect, perhaps sparking a silent analysis of connections that wealth could weave in the vast of Teyvat.

Arlecchino

As you confidently stated, "Whoever says money can't solve all your problems must not have had enough to solve 'em," the Knave, Arlecchino, tilted her head with a mysterious smile. "Quite the perspective," she said, her eyes holding a spark of intrigue, suggesting that your words had stirred her curiosity in the intricate dance of power and wealth.

Columbina

As you confidently declared, "Whoever says money can't solve all your problems must not have had enough to solve 'em," Columbina, the elusive Damselette, remained unflinching, her closed eyes hinting at a mysterious amusement. A subtle but unmistakable chuckle escaped her, revealing that your perspective on wealth had amused the enigmatic Third of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

Pantalone

As you confidently declared, "Whoever says money can't solve all your problems must not have had enough to solve 'em," Pantalone, codenamed Regrator, gave a sly smile. His calculating gaze suggested a man well-versed in the intricacies of wealth. As the wealthiest Harbinger, his ambition to make Snezhnaya a financial powerhouse spoke volumes. The air hung with mystery as Pantalone's eyes gleamed with a determination that hinted at a deeper understanding of the transformative power of wealth.

[Alright that’s all guys,I’m not able to write about all harbingers because I don’t know how most of them act like😭,if you have any other ideas you can write it in the comments]

I only write on tumblr!.

Delulu is the solulu~ come check out my c.ai here !

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stellar-haikyuu · 1 month ago

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orange ☆ ennoshita chikara x reader

synopsis: reader is karasuno's second-year manager. during one of their morning trips to a tokyo training camp, something heart-fluttering with ennoshita happens. based on the song "orange" by spyair. details: fluff, ~1.4k words, gn! reader. i referred to characters based on how the reader would probably address them! takes place sometime during the season 2 tokyo training camp arc. warnings: none!

“I will spread my wings and take off straight ahead, Up to those beautiful orange morning skies. There’s only a second left, give me just one more, I beg — Every moment is precious to me like nothing else. I know…”

Although you normally hated waking up at the ungodly hours of the morning, you still buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the rented school bus.

You’ve lost count of how many training camps Karasuno has attended now, but each time, you see the team reach new heights. Playing against Tokyo powerhouses truly pushed the team further.

“Are all the members here?” Shimizu asks, walking up to your right. You do a quick headcount, scanning the endearing mix of sleepy and excited boys. “Yes, all twelve are present.”

Shimizu nods and turns back to Hitoka, who is frantically running through a checklist. You chuckle at her diligence.

“It’s alright, Hitoka-chan,” you reassure the nervous first-year manager.

“B-but, senpai! It’s- I can’t- the first aid kit,” Hitoka stammers, clutching her clipboard. You look over the checklist Hitoka held and see that the first aid bag is the only item left uncrossed.

Hitoka spins her head around to inspect each bag pile in the driveway. Some of the boys who notice the first-year’s conundrum ask her what’s wrong.

You’re about to help Hitoka with her search, but that’s when you notice where the first aid bag is.

“Um, Hitoka-chan?” You can’t hide the giggle from your voice. Shimizu locks eyes with you, wearing an amused expression.

“Yes?!” Hitoka whips around immediately.

“You might want to look at the bag on your shoulder.”

Hitoka blinks for a moment before she looks down. She promptly falls to her knees, burying her face in her hands. This takes the entire team by surprise, causing even the sleepy members to startle.

“It was with me this whole time! I can’t believe this- I’m so sorry! I should be more careful and aware, I caused you guys to worry for no reason and, and-”

“Take it easy, Hitoka-chan.” You pat her back. “And just in case it did end up missing, there are always nearby convenience stores and pharmacies for supply runs.”

Hitoka quietly wails in frustration, then shoots her head up with determination shining in her eyes. “Okay! I promise to be more observant!”

You and Shimizu exchange another look, sharing a soft laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” the third-year says warmly. “Now let’s help sensei and coach load all the bags.”

“Alright, everyone. Last chance for a bathroom break,” you announce to the team, barely suppressing your laughter as you see a few of them visibly consider if they need to go.

After helping Takeda-sensei ensure that nothing was left behind in the parking lot, you realize that you’re the last student to board the bus.

As you step on, you scan the seats. Hitoka and Shimizu are paired up front. Right, it’s their turn to sit together today.

You check the line of single window seats, but all of them are occupied, leaving you confused.

Wait, they always leave one empty for one of the managers…

You find it a little odd that Tanaka and Nishinoya are occupying the single seats in front, totally knocked out. But, whatever, you can take the back seat-

“Would you like to sit beside me?”

Startled, you turn to see Ennoshita looking up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Huh?” you blink.

He pats the empty seat beside him. “No one’s sitting here. Plus, you’ll be right behind Shimizu-senpai and Yachi-san.”

Hitoka looks up at the mention of her name. “Oh! Senpai, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you didn’t have a seat left.”

You ruffle her hair gently. “It’s okay, Hitoka-chan. Don’t worry about it.”

Shimizu turns to them and puts a hand on Hitoka’s shoulder. “Yes, she’ll be fine next to Ennoshita.” Her gaze lingers on you for a moment. A subtle but knowing expression crosses her face before she turns away.

What did that mean?

You sit beside Ennoshita, feeling a flutter in your stomach. You’re used to his presence, but being this close feels different.

“Uh, thanks,” you murmur.

“No problem, I think the guys forgot that you normally sit there. They’re just sleepy-” The end of his sentence morphs into a yawn and he immediately apologizes.

“So are you,” you laugh. “Get a good sleep.”

“I will. You too.”

You both lean back into your seats as the bus starts to move. As the rumble beneath your feet turns steady, a comfortable silence settles between you.

You glance out the window, admiring the first rays of sunlight painting the horizon. The orange reminds you of the fleeting beauty of moments like this.

Your eyes follow the trail of light, which falls on Ennoshita’s peaceful face. The sight makes warmth bloom in your chest and spread to the rest of your body.

Before you know it, your eyes flutter closed.

“Shh, shh, be quiet, they’ll wake up.”

A series of whispers break through your hazy consciousness, but you keep your eyes closed, wanting to go back to sleep as soon as possible.

You’re confused when you realize that the bus isn’t moving and you can hear the birds chirping outside.

Maybe it’s a rest stop, your mind supplies. No one’s shaking you awake, even if you can hear footsteps padding up and down. There’s nothing to worry about, so— hang on.

You’re leaning far to your right, slumped against something warm, and there’s a light pressure on top of your head.

Before you have a chance to process everything, you hear a gasp, followed by a shushing sound.

“Take a picture, quick.”

“Idiot, my phone makes a loud sound.”

“What if we take one from the front and cover the speaker?”

“Hm. That’s actually pretty smart.”

“Boys, what are you-”

To their credit, you only hear a quiet, muffled camera shutter sound. Then, you feel the weight next to you shift slightly.

“We’re not saving you if Ennoshita finds out and decides to murder you two.”

Ennoshita?

“But they’re so cuuuute. I don’t care if I die at his hands for taking this picture.”

“Dumbass, he’ll make you do extra tutor sessions because you got them in it. Now move dude, I need to pee.”

“Ugh. Don’t snitch on us.”

Suddenly, it clicks. You’re leaning on Ennoshita and he’s leaning on you too. You don’t know how to respond. Well, not that you have to—you’re busy pretending to be asleep, after all.

“Tanaka, Nishinoya, enough. Don’t wake them up.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Things eventually die down after a few minutes, and you hear the hiss of the bus door closing.

You suppose you don’t have to worry about going back to sleep, taking comfort in the warmth of the person next to you.

You find yourself wishing for this moment to last forever.

A gentle hand on your shoulder wakes you.

“We’re here,” Shimizu says, coming into focus as you blink repetitively. There’s a grin on the senior’s face. Another look that seems to mean something.

“Oh…thanks.” You groan a little, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Although you’re unwilling to detach from your source of warmth, you need to stretch and get up.

Wait…why is it warm?

You freeze. Ennoshita’s still leaning on your side and…one of his hands is holding on to your arm.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-

“Ennoshita?” You tap his arm gently. “Hey, we’re in Tokyo.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re here already.” Your face heats up; your teammates sneak glances at the both of you as they pass by the aisle.

Ennoshita inhales to take a deep breath, but right when he’s about to exhale, his body stiffens and he sits upright.

“Oh my, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean- did that make you uncomfortable?” Ennoshita rushes out an apology, flustered. “I didn’t know-”

“Don’t worry about it!” You chuckle nervously. Really, don’t worry about it.

“I slept way too well,” he rubs the back of his neck. It’s adorable how flushed he’s gotten.

“Well, if it means you’re well-rested, I wouldn’t mind if it happened again,” you say quickly, not realizing how bold the words sound until they’re already out.

Ennoshita’s eyes widen in response.

You feel a little sorry for Takeda-sensei who is still making his way off the bus. He awkwardly whistles to himself, trying his hardest not to eavesdrop.

“Um. Well…that’s if you want to,” you avoid making eye contact with him.

You end up looking out the window behind Ennoshita. The pale yellow of the morning sun feels bittersweet, a reminder that the moment has already slipped away.

But, you’re reminded that every day, the sun rises and falls.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, then.”

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

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dairy-farmer · 4 months ago

Note

Dick is tired of Slade thirsting for him and trying to get in his suit, but Deathstroke is too good of an asset to burn that bridge so he offers up Tim to him instead. Tim isn’t thrilled that Dick just like, pimped him out to an assassin like that, but forgives Dick pretty quickly after the first time Slade corners him on a roof and bends him over an air conditioner.

Because holy hell, if that’s how Slade fucks when he’s in a hurry, Tim can’t wait for the day Slade comes looking for a favor.

Dick has been forever branded the biggest idiot Tim will ever know for passing this up

!!!!!!! tim has no idea that dick never got that far with slade! he, like many others, had just drawn their own conclusions given the fact that slade was pretty solidly fixated on dick and of course he had to have put out or something because so many people have been in the room when slade would join their side or help them out and he'd look at dick with this smarmy look and say 'this'll cost ya'.

so of course people thought slade and dick were fucking. everyone thought that, except for...dick. for dick slade was just this trashy older guy who'd treat him like how all gross, past their prime, older guys treat waitresses at hooters. something to ogle, something to make comments at.

he'd try so hard to get into dick's good graces by cooperating, doing him favors, even helping him out. he tried so hard to get dick into the idea of fucking him and if dick were anyone else...it might've worked.

but old guys...they just didn't do it for him. dick honestly just did not have the psycho sexual daddy issues necessary to hop onto that horse. it's probably the one good thing he got out of being parented by bruce.

past a certain age...people just reminded him too much of bruce and slade was no exception.

however dick never told slade this. having slade around had its benefits. slade was a serious powerhouse, able to hold his own against metas, aliens, and other mercenaries. even bruce had some trouble against him sometimes. his connections as a result of being a well known mercenary and contract killer meant he had ins with essentially any government of his choosing.

slade was nice to have in his back pocket and the price of having him around more than paid for itself.

but...dick got tired. he'd been dancing around with slade since he was a teenager and slade still gave no signs of giving up but dick was just getting tired of it. any amusement he got out of it had long dried up.

but he couldn't just shut slade down forever. slade was just too talented and useful to wash his hands of.

maybe that was a douchey thing to do. but its not like slade was some angel.

still dick couldn't put up with him anymore. so...he needed a sacrificial lamb. somebody to draw slade's attention, someone that would agree if dick begged them to do it.

jason was an obvious 'no' because he'd rather saw his own arm off than help dick with anything. damian was also a 'no' because...well...damian was an acquired taste. dick doubted slade would be very taken with the constant insults, threats, and posturing.

which left the only viable option as tim. truly if dick had to pick a favorite with his brothers it was tim. he and tim had their ups and downs but if anyone would accept this burden it was tim.

at first tim had just stared at dick, expression blank and almost verging onto incredulous before asking if dick was 'fucking serious?'. which dick thought was a bit excessive.

but then he explained to tim about how much slade had helped him and by extension gotham out, that he wasn't an asset dick could just lose, and how it'd do more harm than good if he was in the wind.

plus it's not like tim would have a hard job. he just had to stand there and look pretty for slade, maybe snipe back with his clever banter.

tim's looks unsure but ultimately agrees.

of course slade won't so easily lose his fixation on dick. but dick has been playing mind games since he was a kid and so he has a few tricks up his sleeve.

he starts by messing with slade's intelligence network centered around him. the one he has so he can track dick down anytime he wants. then dick messes with his jobs, makes it so the client breaks their end of the bargain or are just irritating pieces of shit. slade always seeks him out when his professional life gets annoying.

so once that's done all he does is wait. wait until slade seeks him out but instead finds tim in his place.

slade will pass it off as a fluke at first.

then dick starts arranging tim's cases, going in and fixing his schedule of when he meets with informants in different cities and makes it so he and slade start crossing paths more and more often.

dick's final move is to arrange for slade to meet a client in a club that tim is undercover at as a dancer.

of course slade the horny old goat will pay for a lap dance and of course tim 'i've never backed down from a bet once in my life' drake will do it.

audacity always catches slade's interest. by the end of the night slade is sweeter on tim, more likely to be amused and curious about his presence.

it helps that tim just has one of THOSE faces. dick's under no illusions that slade was more persistent in trying to fuck him when dick was younger. dick was a pretty youthful looking guy despite the stress of his job but tim?

tim was often mistaken for being 3 to 5 years younger than he was. he'd once lamented to dick about how he'd gone to a fancy jewelry store to buy a watch for father's day when he was 16 and the saleswoman had thought he was 12 and pinched his cheek.

poor tim just suffered from chronic baby face. but that also meant that he was exactly slades type.

which was teenager.

so dick starts handing off meetings with slade to tim. if he needs a favor he calls tim to fulfill, if he needs information he gives tim slade's number.

it's good.

dick thought he was pretty straightforward and clear about everything so he never really thinks to check up with tim how everything is going with slade.

tim gives him no complaints.

dick does notice that slade seems to be coming into gotham more often lately but dismisses it as him just being very excited with his new plaything.

slade is also much more cooperative than he was before, prying information out of him doesn't feel like pulling teeth anymore.

whatever tim was doing was clearly working so dick was very happy to let it continue.

still, dick checks up on tim once in a while, cheking to make sure he was still okay with being slade's handler.

in tim's words it was more than okay.

he doesn't say that dick was a fucking idiot for not wanting to deal with slade but dick did get the impression that's what he wanted to say which...okay. maybe slade was nicer to be around when you didn't have the history with him that dick did?

the next time slade is helping all of them out dick expects to at least be given a once over and he breathes and prepares for it. but instead slade bee-lines to tim.

he's leaning down and clearly whispering obscenities into tim's ear given the heavy blush on clark's face and the way he avoids looking at them.

to dick's surprise tim gets on his tippy toes and leans up to begin whispering in slade's ears. something that, based on slade's grin, greatly pleases him.

so clearly things are working out.

dick still has slade on retainer and tim, dick's darling dare devil little brother, gets to metaphorically put his hand in a crocodile's mouth and then snatch it out before it can get bitten off.

seems everyone's happy.

especially tim given that he practically walks like his feet don't touch the ground after he's finished a meeting with slade.

what dick is not expecting is for one day slade to come knocking.

turns out he needs a favor and well....dick is not prepared for that.

he can't recall a single time slade has even come to him to ask for something mostly because it's always been dick paying the price for something. but also because the price dick would set for a favor from him would be unrealistically which slade would know and that's probably why he never asked but with tim...slade is rolling his one good eye and asking if dick's conniving little bitch of a brother is upstairs in his room.

dick just nods still too stunned to say anything as slade brushes past him.

dick watches him go, easily finding tim's bedroom door without it having to be pointed out and barging in before slamming the door closed.

dick had a packed schedule that day, mostly errands but rather than continue with his plans to go out...he just locates a couch in the parlor at the bottom of the stairs and keeps staring up at tim's bedroom door. it's soundproofed, all their rooms are so there's no point in listening in, plus tim is the best of them at debugging the room from when bruce wants to spy on them.

its hours before slade leaves.

he arrived at the manor in somewhat respectable clothes. some slacks, a white button up, and a sports coat.

he leaves around five hours later with his slacks and sports coat folded over one arm and a pair of loafers held swinging in his other. his button up shirt is only half buttoned and hanging out of his boxers. his hair is messy and he's clearly walking with as much dignity as he can muster, ignoring dick's eyes on him.

he says nothing and simply walks out the front door like he hasn't just done a walk of shame out of the manor.

dick has to blink several times after the door clicks closed just to make sure he's not hallucinating.

in no universe is dick able to resist going upstairs.

tim's door is partially cracked open and dick is certain slade did it on purpose just to be annoying.

he knocks just to be nice before stepping in and being greeted by the sight of tim...well there's no other way to put it- lounging.

tim is in the center of his messy bed, propped up by pillows, with bed sheets modestly draped over his waist. he's intently focused on some mobile game that has recently caught his interest so he isn't looking at dick when he comes in.

tim's hair is messier than slade's, there's handprint bruising dick can see on his hips, and there a ripped open packet of slade's favorite brand of cigarettes on tim's nightstand along with slade's lighter.

one of those cigarettes is lit and in tim's mouth as he continues playing his game.

somehow that's what has dick gasping in shock more than anything.

"tim!" he yells, aghast. "are you smoking?!"

tim's eyes flicker up at him and a somewhat guilty and caught look flashes across his face.

hastily, he plucks the half finished cigarette out of his mouth and drops it into the open bedside carafe. but dick also spies the matching cup with three extinguished cigarette butts at the bottom and narrows his eyes.

tim follows his gaze and hurries to defend himself.

"those are slade's!" he insists, "i just had the one!"

the fact that tim was smoking at all had some big brother part of dick's chest aching with a pain so sharp he wonders if this is what heart attacks felt like.

dick is focused on the cigarette, the words that come out are just lectures on top of lectures about the dangers of smoking all while tim looks cowed. when bruce gets home dick informs him as well and bruce follows up with his own lectures.

it's not until weeks later that dick considers that maybe that shouldn't have been the thing he focused on given all the other evidence in the room.

dick's little brother was extorting sex out of slade wilson in exchange for favors. that probably should've been something he dealt with with some amount of urgency.

but...dick felt like it was something that could be overlooked.

maybe it was because the idea that slade would get a taste of his own medicine for once pleased dick.

but this arrangement tim had with slade just seemed...right.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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