#back to him doing whatever he was supposed to be doing before
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cotton candy clouds | 4
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Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.
Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader
Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; slow-burnish; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff/domesticity; humour; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)
☁ ccc; masterlist
Whenever Simon spares you a glance to remind himself that this new and strange arrangement is real, he finds you staring right back at him somehow.
Always making eye contact; holding his unwavering gaze with a silent expectation that makes his chest feel tight and his brain go numb, grappling for answers. Multiple times he's caught himself biting the tip of his tongue harshly to refrain himself from barking “What?” at you, demanding an answer in exchange for his cluelessness: What do you want from me?
He's building a mountain of expectations in his mind involuntarily while lacking the gear and a strategy in how to climb it properly. It's too high, and he knows he can never reach the top unscathed.
How can he possibly take care of you if he can barely take care of himself outside of what is required of him? He keeps himself fit, alive, able to function, always ready to follow an order and go in for the kill. That’s what he knows, what he’s comfortable with, but this?
Simon doesn't play house, doesn't know how to handle something so... domestic and delicate. He never experienced it growing up, never witnessed normalcy. If he would care about such things now, he’d have a wife or something akin to one, but he doesn’t–never even had a partner before, never bothered to believe himself fit for dating, for letting someone in like this.
Even the soft clothes you're wearing make him recoil; pastel colours having the opposite effect of red to a bull–so odd and out of place to him, and he knows the callouses on his fingers would simply catch on the fabric if he were ever to reach out to you for whatever reason, like a sheep’s fine wool catching on a thorn brush, scratching and tearing.
“What would you like for dinner?”
Simon blinks twice, thrice, before the question comes through his thick skull, vision slowly clearing despite him having stared at you for the past minutes while you were sitting on his couch patiently the whole time, eager as ever now that he willingly took you back to his flat again.
Why did you even sign the handlership without knowing him at all beforehand? Are you really that oblivious? That naïve? Or did the brass coax you into signing it?
“Simon?”
The way you keep saying his name so casually, makes his chest ache, makes him inhale sharply each time. What would he like for dinner? It should be such a simple question, but it seems like a puzzle to him–a thousand pieces, all in the same bloody colour.
“Why? Ya offering to cook for me, lass?” He snorts humourlessly. It's ridiculous. No one cooks for him unless he goes to the mess hall to get some grub.
“Of course, I'd love to!” You answer immediately, flashing a genuine smile. His eyes flicker to your tail when it starts to wag again and he curls his lips under his mask. Isn't he supposed to take care of you? What even is this bloody handlership? His brows draw together quizzically, making that deep crease reappear between them. Perhaps he should’ve read it before putting his signature on the damn paper.
Then he sighs in resignation. “Do whatever you want, just stay out of my room,” he replies and makes a half-hearted gesture towards the kitchen. “Not sure wha’s in the fridge. Been a few days since I went to the store,” he admits begrudgingly, kissing his teeth in annoyance when his stomach grumbles.
“Well then,” you say tentatively, tail stilling on the couch, “–why don't we go shopping for groceries?”
It’s already late afternoon, when Simon pulls up to the parking lot in front of the local supermarket in town with a truck he borrowed, deciding it’s better for his own nerves to take you somewhere else but the stores they have on base.
He just can’t bring himself to keep you on a leash around his peers, to parade you around wearing a pink collar around your neck with his rank and military ID number stitched into its leather–a ‘gift’ from the bloody gift basket Price had delivered to his flat along with the initial shock of your presence.
And, by god, he wants to drop the leash and run in the other direction as soon as the automatic sliding doors swoosh open and his boots step foot into the store with you in tow–a red shopping basket clutched in his other hand.
What an absurd picture it must be to other shopgoers–a behemoth with a skull mask and cargo pants buying veggies and snacks with a gorgeous hybrid woman on a pink leash and matching collar. Kinky, he muses unintentionally and grits his teeth, cringing at his own stupid thought. It’s then and there Simon decides to murder Price next chance he gets.
“Mummy, look!” A toddler exclaims, pointing at you as he peeks his head into the produce aisle. Simon’s eyebrow raises beneath his mask as the little boy approaches shyly, his wide eyes fixated on you. Civilians, especially kids and women, usually avoid him like the plague whenever he’s out and about in public, looking like, well–himself.
“Hello there,” you coo at the toddler, crouching down to his level while Simon keeps as much distance as the leash allows him to, knowing better than to interfere. “Are you looking for your mama?” You ask attentively, ears twitching as you look past the boy, already searching for his parents.
The boy shakes his head with a big smile, rocking on his feet. “Nu-uh, she’s–”
“Noah!” The frantic voice of a woman calls out. “I told you to stay by–” Her eyes widen, steps faltering briefly as she catches sight of Simon, who has already anticipated the reaction, slumping his shoulders to try and make himself look smaller, less threatening.
“He’s okay,” you chime in swiftly, straightening up to be on eye-level with Noah’s mother. “We were about to help him look for you, madam,” you assure her, and the boy giggles when you ruffle his brown unruly curls briefly. “Isn’t that right, big man?”
The conversation fades into the background just like Simon’s whole presence seemingly does as you go on to hold a friendly and effortless conversation with the mother and her son. Meanwhile, Simon doesn’t quite remember the last time someone approached him so casually and jovially, and he gets lost in his own rotten mind with flashbacks of the past again–seeing the ghosts of Beth and Joseph in these strangers in front of him, and his heart is gripped by icy tendrils of grief and melancholy until your laugh breaks through the vision, pulling him back to reality at once.
“Oh, no worries! I’m sure it is strange to see someone like me in a quaint town like this,” you chuckle softly, giving a small wave with your hand while Simon’s pale lashes flutter as he tries to follow the conversation once more after what he’s missed. He notices how the toddler is giggling, petting and hugging your fluffy tail while you continue talking to his mum like it’s nothing unordinary. “But working for the military has brought me to the strangest places where hybrids are either a common occurrence or completely rare and more like a myth,” you explain patiently.
And the woman smiles coyly, already smitten with your charms. “Well, you certainly are a looker if I dare say so, miss.”
Once Alice, as she'd introduced herself, and Noah go about their own shopping, Simon catches the odd look on your face, something akin to sadness or longing hidden behind your smile, before you rapidly blink it away as a grumpy-looking elderly man approaches you, asking for help as if you'd know your way around while Simon groans internally, already despising all the attention.
You really do turn heads in a rather positive way if you manage to make the most grumpy old geezer smile in a heartbeat.
“You always this chipper?” He gruffs as he watches you add a pound of butter and coffee creamer to the overflowing basket, not that he'd care about that. You've been nothing but mindful of prices and proper nourishment while strolling through the aisles.
“Hm?” Simon snorts, in amusement this time. There's no way you didn't hear him; he saw your plush left ear swivel in his direction. “Ya heard me jus’ fine, lass.” He mutters, grabbing a box of his favourite biscuits as he walks past them and shoving them in between the other goodies, feeling like a child sneaking candy into their parent's shopping cart.
“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, keeping your eyes trained on the shelves with different brands of toast before grabbing a packaged loaf. “I guess I am.” Then you stop, glancing up at him over your shoulder, and Simon nearly bumps into you. “You don't like people coming up to us to chat?”
Simon's brows furrow. Us? “They wanna talk you, not me. 'm basically–” He shrugs, making a vague gesture at himself as the leash clinks in his hand.
“A Ghost?” You quip, beaming at your little joke while your tail swishes proudly.
“Right,” Simon huffs quietly. “Smooth.”
He's rather thankful for his balaclava as he continues trotting after you through the store, hiding the tiniest crack of a smile underneath the black cloth.
There’s a match on the telly, an ice cold bottle of his favourite ale on the coffee table on a coaster he didn’t even know he owned, though all Simon can really focus on is this bizarre situation he finds himself watching as you go about doing your own thing in his kitchen.
It’s almost mesmerizing, the way you rummage through the cupboards and drawers, taking out pots and bowls to your liking as if you own the place already, preparing a side salad while the steaks sizzle in the pan–all while you’re wearing that frilly, pale pink apron that you’d fetched from your suitcase earlier, the one that makes Simon wonder if one of your previous handlers is responsible for your peculiar wardrobe, or if pink simply happens to be your favourite colour.
He takes an absentminded sip of his drink when another thought pops into his head: What if you wear all of this hyper-feminine bollocks because people forced you to like it? What if they manipulated you into enjoying stuff to state their own perverted fantasies? Would you rather wear something else?
And Simon imagines it briefly–you wearing something cosy, perhaps one of his hoodies that would most likely swallow you whole. He takes another swing of ale and his nose wrinkles, though it’s not the bitterness making him squinch.
“Dinner is ready in five,” you croon suddenly, popping your head into the living room from the kitchen as the savoury aroma of steak and chips wafts through the flat, engulfing the usually sparse space like a warm, comforting blanket.
With a soft groan and a cracking knee, Simon gets up from his seat on the couch. The least he can do is set the table.
@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @kerst666 @whos-fran @d1zzy-r1v3rs @userinaliel666 @annoyingstrawberryballoon @vmaxis @tessakate @dneicjefx @sushiumex @yourfavreggie @cmbghost @brokexintroverted @mysterygrl555 @bunnybeaches @fmlmf @teapartydreams @nachofriess @slut-lmao @sweetnanah @kodzukenwhore @thefutureastronaut @arael-asuka @oliver-1270
#cotton candy clouds#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#call of duty#hybrid au#cod#cod hybrid au#ghost x reader#cod x reader#cod smut#simon riley smut#reader insert#hybrid!reader#handler!ghost#simon riley x you#ghost x you
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Do you think you could write about Sukuna x reader before baby kuna and there live before reader even gettin pregnant I really love your work 💗💗💗✨✨✨✨
some corporate boss mamakuna x employee sukuna lore! this is how they first met :)
back before babykuna, before the house full of labubus, cats, and stolen hoodies, there was corporate sukuna. and corporate sukuna? he was supposed to be a goddamn nightmare. you had heard horror stories.
"he’s impossible to work with."
"he made the last manager cry."
"he once told HR to 'suck his entire d—'"
okay, so maybe that last one was a little concerning. but you were young, fresh into a leadership role, and ready to face whatever demon of a man this company had somehow not yet fired. so naturally, when you finally met him, arms crossed, scowl carved into his face like a roman statue, you prepared for the worst.
"ryomen sukuna, right?" you greeted, professional, poised, the picture of authority. his eyes flicked up to you, and you swear, for half a second, there was a spark of mischief, a flicker of something dangerous. but then, to your absolute shock, sukuna—the devil himself, the menace of the office, the man who had apparently made three secretaries quit in a single week—was nice. or, well, nice enough.
he nodded, grumbled out a respectful “yeah,” and got to work. no backtalk, no glaring, no slamming of desks or throwing office supplies at interns. just grumpy efficiency. you smiled. bright. cheerful. unshaken.
“great! looking forward to working with you.”
then, the moment you turned your back? he was a goddamn menace. “oi, dipshit,” sukuna barked across the office, and some poor intern visibly flinched. “why the fuck is my report missing page five?”
“um—”
“no, don’t ‘um’ me. are you illiterate? do you need me to read the assignment out loud for you like you’re in fuckin' kindergarten?”
“no, sir, i just—”
“fix it.”
when you turned back around, brows raised? sukuna was already back to his task, perfectly behaved, like an honor student trying not to get caught. you frowned, a little suspicious. he blinked at you. innocent. wide-eyed. docile.
…okay, maybe the HR rumors were exaggerated. maybe he was just misunderstood. but then you turned away again, and—
“hey, you, yeah, you—who the fuck made this spreadsheet? a blind goat?!”
this cycle repeated daily. whenever you were around, sukuna was just a grumpy but functional employee. he answered your questions, finished his work on time, and—god forbid—was even kind of charming when he wasn’t glaring at people. but the moment you left the room? utter carnage.
by week two, everyone in the office knew.
one particularly brave soul even tried to test it. “hey, sukuna,” some junior exec chirped while you were grabbing coffee, “think you could help me review this client file?” sukuna barely spared them a glance. “sure.”
but then you left to take a phone call.
“are you incapable of using your own goddamn brain, or is it just decorative?”
you walked back in. “everything okay?”
sukuna, completely blank-faced: “yeah.”
everyone was traumatized. you? completely clueless. until one day, you walked into the office a little earlier than usual and caught him—midway through roasting some poor IT guy’s entire existence. you cleared your throat. sukuna froze.
then, he straightened his tie, rolled his shoulders back, and—without missing a beat—“ah, boss. g'morning.” like nothing happened.
you blinked. he blinked back.
…this motherfucker.
#@sukuna#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#sukuna headcanons#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen x reader#ryomen x y/n#ryomen x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen fluff#sukuna crack#jjk crack#jjk x fem!reader#sukuna x female reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader
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ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)
tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.
“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks.
Thirty minutes earlier
For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.
Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over.
“I am trapped, John.”
“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.”
“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”
“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”
The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.
Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within.
That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.
Now
“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.
The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.
MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.
“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.
“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.
“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.”
John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution.
“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.
“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation.
“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.
“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”
-
“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”
John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.
“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.
“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.
Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.
As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.
“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you’re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.
“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.
-
Gaz was right. It only took an hour.
But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.
John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia.
They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife.
They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.
“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention.
“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”
-
“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.
You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.
It’s him. The General. Shepherd.
Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.
“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.
“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.
“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words.
“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.
“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.
When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?
Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.
It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally.
You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.
“Fuckin’ bastard.”
-
Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats
Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL
Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY
-
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Meeting the Parents
Sylus x gn!Reader
Inspired by this post by @yes-no-maybe-soo
Dialogue taken straight from his tete-a-tete introduction with some stuff removed for the story
Warnings: hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, established relationship, death, cemetery, anxiety, lies of omission, cuddling, kissing, crying
Word Count: 1,564
Main Masterlist
First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists
AO3
Tag List Form
“Sy?”
“Hm? What is it, sweetie?”
You play with his fingers where they lay over your stomach. His body is sculpted to fit perfectly along your back, strong arms holding you securely, protectively, as you’re just waking up and he’s supposed to be going to bed.
You bite your lip, grateful that he can’t see your face or the warring thoughts blatantly expressed on it. “Would you want to meet my parents?”
He presses closer - if such a thing is even possible - tucking his face into your shoulder where he plants lazy kisses. “Why are you asking me about this now?”
“Well, Tara got a new boyfriend and she was telling me about how important meeting the parents can be,” you admit slowly. She’d gushed about it for an entire lunch break, in fact. Rambling on and on about how meeting his parents went, and how her parents just love him, and how big of a step it is in a relationship. ‘The most important step!’ she’d emphasized. It weighed on your mind since. “And I just thought… maybe you’d want to meet mine?”
There’s no way he doesn’t hear your heart racing in your chest. It’s impossible for him to miss the nervousness in your fiddling with his fingers, or the subconscious way you stretch out your legs to tangle with his. But if he does notice any of it, he says nothing.
He kisses over your pulse, intertwines your fingers, and hooks his leg over your hip, as though this is nothing more than a lazy Sunday morning.
“I’d be honored to meet them,” he whispers, soft and tender in a voice reserved just for you.
“Today?”
He chuckles warmly. “If that’s what you want, sure.”
You squeeze his hand, then pull it tighter around you, holding it to your chest like a plushie you’ve decided to cuddle. “You should get some sleep, first. We can visit them for lunch.”
“Oh? Are they already expecting me?”
“No… but they never mind visitors.”
He hums, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, and buries his face into your warm skin. “Whatever you say, kitten…”
His snores fill the air a moment later.
-
Sylus takes meeting your parents more seriously than you thought he would. He took a shower before you, and when you came out, he was meticulously going through his wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. Nothing too flashy, but nothing too casual - something suited for setting up a good first impression. A towel is still around his shoulders, hair dripping onto it in his focus. It brings some much needed levity into your aching heart.
“Sit down,” you chide him. He does so with a knowing smirk, but it droops back into a frown as he thinks on his options.
“Which shirt do you think?” he asks. You fluff the towel over his hair, squeezing out the water soaked into the thicker sections of his locks. Once it’s dried enough, you comb your fingers through his hair to brush it out. He’ll style it himself, of course, but you love feeling it so wild and unrestrained like this.
You look up at the two shirts hanging up side by side in the closet. His collared-shirt red-sweater combo on one side, or his simple white shirt. Both are casual, put together. A softer appearance compared to his usual black attire. He could choose either - they’re perfect for coming off as disarming and charming without flaunting his wealth - but he’s asking you.
You hug him around his neck from behind. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.
You shake your head. “Nothing.” Still, you linger a moment longer before you pull away with a kiss to his cheek. “The red one. It’s my favorite.”
“The red one it is.”
-
You offered to drive this time. Unusual, given his proclivity for driving you anywhere you could ever want to go, but you play it off as it being in Linkon, your territory. He teased you lightly, but passed over the keys without a fuss. If you wanted to be the one to drive him to meet your parents, that’s your right.
After having to majorly adjust the driver’s side seat to account for your height, the drive itself is simple. Familiar. You know the way like Sylus knows his armories. Though, you know you can’t play it off forever. In just a few short miles, the ruse will be up. You tap along the steering wheel. How much longer before he figures it out? Or, if he already knows, before he says something about it?
You pull the car into the gravel parking lot and cut the ignition. You shyly look to the passenger side. Sylus looks straight ahead through the windshield, brows pulled together in a frown.
“Sweetie…”
You get out of the car before he can say anything else. Before he can back out. Look at you like you’re crazy or like you’ve betrayed him for keeping this a secret for so long. His door shuts a moment after yours. The small rocks shift under his nice shoes as he rounds the car. You don’t look at his face as you take his hand in yours and lead him through the big wrought-iron gate.
Rows upon rows of headstones, statues, slabs cover the area. Carefully tended grass peeks up in the spaces between. A path is formed from foot-traffic alone, guiding you deeper into the cemetery like a gentle hand on your shoulder. You know the way by now.
The wind blows through, the birds chirp their songs, the noise of the cars is distant… It’s peaceful. Sylus says nothing. You pretend to focus on the stones by your side to avoid looking at him.
You curse Tara for planting this idea in your head in the first place.
Soon enough, you slow to a stop in front of a wide headstone. Two names are engraved on it. Four dates. And a message. You picked it out just for them.
The silence grows unbearable. Hot. You wish you could sink into the ground, where hundreds of hands could hold and assure you. Where Sylus can’t see the tension in your shoulders as you anticipate him leaving.
He squeezes your hand. For the first time since arriving, you look at him, watching as he kneels down in front of the granite stone. And… he’s smiling. The furrow in his brow is gone. He looks at ease.
“Are you their parents? I’m Sylus. I’m your child’s boyfriend,” he introduces himself. He says it all like he’s talking to them. Speaking directly to your parents just before an awkward family dinner. “I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology, for example. My business has been doing well, and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”
You slowly sink down to your knees beside him. You can’t stop staring at his face.
“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vinyl records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your child, my singing isn’t too bad.” He looks at you, shooting you a playful wink. Your vision starts to blur. He turns back to the stone.
“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule. I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind. I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of them. The two of them often frolic together at the ranch.” In that same soft voice reserved just for you, he says, “I like seeing them be carefree and happy.”
The first tears break free with a choked sound. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You hug his waist tightly.
“While it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people. Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking them to auctions and fashion shows.” He draws you in a little tighter, but his attention remains on the names before him. “I like seeing them shine. And their happiness is my happiness.
“As for the future…” He speaks with conviction, as though trying to fully prove to your parents his worth as your boyfriend. “I’ll always support them with whatever they want to do. I’ll also stand by their side without question.”
You press your face in his chest. He shifts on his knees to face you, wrapping his other arm around you in a full hug. He presses a gentle kiss to your head.
“How did I do?” he whispers.
You sob. It’s ugly and gross. Your chin wobbles and your face contorts as tears stream in an endless tirade, soaking into his sweater. His large hand rubs up and down your back patiently. Your voice cracks as you croak out, “They would’ve loved you…”
He ducks his head down, pressing his cheek to yours. Sweet kisses brush away your tears. “I’m sure I would have loved them, too,” he assures. And you know he isn’t lying. “Just breathe, sweetie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”
---
Tag List:
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LM’s Social Media
I made this long post to list all the social media accounts and profiles of Luigi Mangione. As many of you already know, a lot of his profiles have been taken down. The platforms where we could see the more personal side of Luigi and his experiences, like Facebook, Instagram, and Reddit, have been deleted. However, fortunately, some of his profiles on other platforms remain active to this day.
I’ll try to list each of these sites. If you see anything that needs to be corrected or know of another LM profile that isn’t listed here, I’d appreciate it if you shared it. My goal is to keep this post as updated as possible.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so if you notice anything odd in the writing, I apologize.
Facebook: luigi.mangione.2
Status: Taken Down First post: Jan 17, 2010 Last post: Aug 24, 2019
LM has had a Facebook account for quite some time—likely his first social media platform. His earliest posts date back to 2010. His last post was in 2019, which was also the year he was most active on the platform. That year, he posted several photos from a trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with his fraternity and the three months he spent as a head counselor at Stanford in Palo Alto, CA.
Instagram: @luigi.from.fiji
Status: Taken Down First post: Aug 13, 2018 Last post: Aug 27, 2021
LM’s first Instagram post was in the summer of 2018. In that post, he explicitly mentioned that he created the account just to give one more follower to his sister’s blog. (LM has two sisters.) He also tagged his sister @lifewithlu__—or whatever handle she had at the time. If you've come across accounts currently using that handle on Instagram or Twitter, they are fake. LM’s sister apparently changed her username a while ago and later deactivated her account after LM’s arrest.
As for LM’s Instagram activity, his last posts were from the summer of 2021. He shared photos from a trip to Puerto Rico, where he was working remotely for some time, and from a trip to Hawaii with his other sister. LM also posted pictures with a friend he met at Stanford in 2019.
Additionally, LM had a highlight section featuring his predictions for 2027, which he uploaded in Jan 2021.
LM became inactive in 2022, despite appearing in a few posts made by his roommates in Hawaii. However, many of these posts were later deleted, or the accounts were set to private—likely to completely disassociate from LM and the allegations against him, or to avoid harassment from either his supporters or detractors.
In 2022, despite not posting anything himself, he was tagged in various posts and stories by his roommates and friends in Hawaii.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/786eba0bd24fff2095e810f6c67dcbda/9c448c91651f3480-26/s540x810/280b7d7d593b470899975eb2c50c1a86fb1de21e.jpg)
Instagram 2: @luiginmangione (probably fake)
Status: Taken Down
This account is probably fake, but we can’t be entirely sure. Unlike the confirmed account, this one was private and also has been deactivated. It had zero posts and 404 followers—an interesting detail, as "404" in some areas of computing means "not found," which is notable given that LM was reported missing in 2024.
As for the profile picture and bio, there was nothing we hadn’t seen before, making it highly unlikely that this account actually belonged to him.
Instagram 3 or Another Social Media Account
In messages between LM and one of his friends, his friend mentioned that he was wondering who the person trying to follow him was. It seems that in February 2024, LM created an account where it was impossible to recognize that it was him.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8efd9a17218aa1852d31b1f4e113919c/9c448c91651f3480-ed/s540x810/b227b2ef75af383a9a91e132cefb9c658b0b13e4.jpg)
YouTube
First active: Unknown Last active: May 2024
You've probably already seen his supposed channel—the one with a single uploaded video and another that was never released. What was in that second video? Most likely some form of self-promotion from whoever was behind that account. Fortunately, the channel was taken down before that could happen.
However, we do know that LM had not just one but three YouTube channels, all of which were unfortunately removed due to YouTube’s absurd policies. According to the CNN article where this was mentioned, LM hadn't uploaded anything in seven months, meaning his last content would have been from May 2024. It's a complete mystery what he had posted—most likely something related to his trip to Asia. Sadly, we may never know. YouTube acted so quickly against LM’s channels that the internet didn’t have time to archive the deleted content.
Another possible type of content LM might have uploaded to these channels includes drone footage from Hawaii and Asia, projects from his time at Penn (2016–2020), or even school projects.
GitHub: lnmangione
Status: Still Up First active: Feb 27, 2015 Last active: May 8, 2021
In case you’re not familiar, GitHub is a platform where users can store and update code—directly related to LM’s career and essential for anyone studying or working in a field that involves coding.
LM was active on GitHub from 2015 to 2021, contributing to personal projects, FTC (Robotics), and university assignments. In 2020, after graduating, he used it to prepare for coding interviews. By 2021, he was mainly working on private projects, likely related to his remote job. Apparently, Luigi stopped being active on GitHub in 2021.
Twitter: @PepMangione
Status: Still Up First tweet: Apr 14, 2016 Last active: Jun 10, 2024
This was probably the social media platform where LM was most active before his arrest. His most active year was 2024, and he had been using this account since 2016, although he didn’t post anything after 2016 and only became active again in 2021
His earliest tweets appear to be automated posts with random numbers, possibly tests for some kind of Twitter-connected application.
Aside from that, his Twitter provides insight into his ideology, which seems somewhat ambiguous. Politically, he didn’t appear to have strong affiliations.
After his arrest, LM’s account was taken down but later reinstated. He followed only 71 people—later 70, after a Japanese poker player he met in Tokyo in February removed him as a follower. Currently, LM’s account has over half a million followers. Before his arrest, several accounts followed LM during the time he was missing—most of them were likely bot accounts, though not all, as some belonged to friends trying to contact him through public tweets you’ve probably already seen.
LM didn’t follow any of his friends on Twitter. Some of his friends did follow him, which means either he never followed them back or he unfollowed them at some point.
Regarding his banner, it consists of three images:
Breloom from Pokémon – This is directly linked to Theory 286, which you may have heard about. It connects Breloom’s Pokédex number (286) with LM’s total number of Twitter posts, which was also 286 (now 285), as well as with certain health insurance denial codes. Personally, I think this is just a coincidence. Breloom was likely there because LM liked the Pokémon—it’s a Fighting type, which can be linked to physical activity, and is a Mushroom, which could relate to his interest in psychedelics.
X-ray from his surgery – This was from a procedure that took place on July 21, 2023 (though I’m not sure if that’s the exact date). This means his header was updated at least after that date.
A shirtless photo of him on a mountain in Hawaii – We know that one of LM’s favorite activities was hiking.
The last known activity of LM on Twitter was on June 10, 2024. That day, he retweeted a post and sent a DM to Gurwinder in response to a tweet, asking him to show him how to curate his feed to display more valuable and educational content.
After LM disappeared, during July, October and November, his friends tried to reach out through tweets and probably also through private messages.
Twitter alt: (Fake)
I don’t remember the name of the account, but it was something related to mushrooms, it was initially linked to LM due to its similarities with his interests. However, it was later clarified that this profile does not belong to LM, and the shared interests were purely coincidental.
Linktree: lnmangione
State: Still up
Linktree is a platform that allows users to compile multiple links into a single page, making it easier to share various profiles, websites, or projects. Many content creators and professionals use it to organize their online presence.
LM did have a Linktree, but instead of links, it only contained a series of emojis. No actual links to his profiles or projects were listed, making it unclear what the purpose of his account was.
Here’s a possible interpretation of LM’s emojis based on what we know about his interests:
💻🤓 – Likely represents his tech side.
🥷🏃♂️🧘♂️🏋️ – Suggests his active lifestyle, including exercise, meditation, and discipline. The ninja could represent martial arts.
📚🤓 – Reflects his love for books and self-education.
🦍🧠 – Likely represents LM’s interest in gorillas, as seen on his Goodreads, Reddit and Twitter.
🍄🧠 – Likely a nod to his interest in psychedelics.
🐄👨⚖️ – Might reference ethical concerns about the meat industry or food regulations. It could also be a nod to Moo’s Law, a book exploring the rise of lab-grown meat, its potential to revolutionize food production, and the ethical, environmental, and economic implications of this technology.
☯️ – Represents balance, Eastern philosophy, or mindfulness practices.
Snapchat: luigimangione
State: Taken down
LM’s Snapchat was listed in his yearbook alongside his Facebook, suggesting he was quite active on the platform. After his arrest, his account remained up for a few days. Someone posted screenshots of his profile on TikTok before it was taken down, but I haven’t been able to find them. Perhaps that profile was also taken down due to TikTok’s constant censorship. His avatar was surprisingly well-made. If anyone has those screenshots and can share them, I would be grateful and will, of course, give credit.
Substack: @anotherdayanotherplay
Status: Still Up
Substack was where LM followed many of the writers he engaged with on Twitter. One of them was Gurwinder, a British blogger whose work LM seemed to appreciate deeply. He liked it enough to purchase a premium subscription to Gurwinder’s Substack blog, The Prism, which costs $200. This subscription granted LM perks like a video call with the writer.
Gurwinder’s articles cover topics such as gamification, short-form video platforms and their negative effects, and NPC behavior.
You can read more about this meeting in the article Gurwinder wrote about LM.
TikTok: @lnmangione (Fake)
Not Owned by LM
If you’ve seen some of LM’s tweets, you’ll know he was against short-form video platforms, making it unlikely that he ever had a TikTok account. The account mentioned here does not appear to belong to LM. Most of its reposted content is in German and English, Additionally, the type of content shared on this account doesn’t align with LM’s known interests.
TikTok started gaining popularity between 2018 and 2020, so we can’t completely rule out the possibility that LM once had an account.
LinkedIn: Luigi Mangione
Status: Still Up Joined: Feb, 2015 Last active: 2023
LinkedIn is the go-to social media platform for job searching, and LM’s profile provides detailed insight into his education and work history. His last known job was at TrueCar, where he had been working remotely for some time. He left this job at some point in 2023, but he never updated his LinkedIn to reflect this change.
The exact reason LM left TrueCar remains unknown. One theory suggests he resigned to take time off for traveling and recovering from his surgery. Another theory points to company-wide layoffs at TrueCar. However, we can’t confirm anything for sure, as TrueCar declined to provide detailed statements, citing employee privacy—specifically in LM’s case.
Reddit: u/mister_cactus
Status: Taken Down Joined: Feb 23, 2016 Last active: May 25, 2024
Reddit was one of the platforms where LM was quite active, and he remained so until May 2024, sharing details about his travel through Asia. LM created his Reddit account in 2016, the same year as his Twitter.
In the beginning, his activity was mostly related to university projects, garage sales, and Pokémon Go. Over the years, he also engaged with posts discussing brain fog, spondylolisthesis (spondy), and other topics. From his comments, we know that at some point, his health insurance provider was Blue Cross Blue Shield. He also shared details about his struggles with spondylolisthesis and how a surfing accident in 2022 worsened his condition.
In 2023, LM posted about his decision to undergo spinal fusion surgery, sharing research on successful cases. His most recent Reddit activity in 2024 included reposting videos of the mass street livestreams that have become common. LM seemed highly aware of how technology was creating these dystopian scenes.
His final Reddit post detailed what he packed for his trip to Asia—notable items included:
Backpacks
An iPhone 13 Mini
A drone - DJI Mini 2 Drone
A physical book (LM preferred them over digital ones)
Other personal essentials
Unfortunately, his account was taken down shortly after being discovered. It's unclear whether this was due to Reddit’s questionable policies or possibly mass reports against the account.
Goodreads: luigimangione
Status: Set to Private
LM’s Goodreads account gained attention after his arrest, offering a detailed look into his reading preferences. His library included a mix of genres, with notable categories such as:
Self-help books
Back pain management
Psychedelics
Agronomics
Moo’s Law
Exercise books
Books about Hawaiian islands
Fantasy and science fiction, including A Brave New World and Harry Potter
LM was quite active on the platform, frequently writing detailed reviews and sometimes even adding handwritten notes to his books.
Steam: Pep
Status: Still Up Joined: Oct 20, 2013 Last active: Jul 7, 2024
Steam is the most popular platform for purchasing games, and LM had been active on it for a long time. His last recorded activity was on July 7, 2024—exactly six months and 2 days before his arrest. The last game he played was PUBG.
Looking at his library, you can see the wide variety of games he played over 11 years since Oct 2013. One touching detail is that many of his friends still have him added, and one of them even changed their username to "FreeLuigi"—a clear sign of loyalty and support. That’s definitely a good friend.
LM also had an alt account added, but nothing noteworthy has been mentioned about this account.
The last games LM played are:
PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS – last played on July 7, 2024 Orwell – last played on June 28, 2024 Spelunky 2 – last played on June 2, 2024
Tinder
Joined: Nov 27, 2021 Last active: Dec 18, 2022
Apparently, Luigi was only active on Tinder for a short time in December 2022, though his profile dates back to November 27, 2021. His love life is also a complete mystery, so it’s interesting that he even had a Tinder account. Shoutout to the person who spent 15 bucks to unlock the unique photos Luigi had here 🫶
Trello: @luigimangione
Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown
Trello is a platform designed to help teams organize their work. There isn’t much to see on LM’s account, but his profile picture is the protagonist of Spelunky—one of the games he has logged the most hours on in Steam.
Pinterest: luigimangione
Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown
There isn’t much to see here. LM only saved a hoodie, likely as a show of support for Tim Urban and his blog Wait But Why—one of the writers he was most enthusiastic about.
Spotify (Fake)
These Spotify profiles began circulating just hours after Luigi Mangione’s name became widely known. However, these profiles are fake and seem to be an attempt to link Luigi to various musical tastes—such as artists like Clairo, Charlie XCX, or Blackpink. If you’ve tried to research Luigi’s musical preferences, you’ll know that there’s very little information available. The only two songs we know Luigi listened to are from his SoundCloud account.
SoundCloud
Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown
This is where Luigi liked two EDM tracks that are not very well known. These are currently the only reference we have to LM’s musical tastes.
Chess: sexytwerker69
Status: Still Up Joined: Sep 19, 2017 Last active: Dec 22, 2023
This is one of my favorites. The nickname is quite original and gives us a glimpse into Luigi’s sense of humor. This profile was created in 2017, and the profile picture is a unique selfie of Luigi biting an apple—one of the few selfies he had taken. This confirms that the account is indeed his.
Other noteworthy details include that his last activity on the account was in 2023. Additionally, he had the Italian flag on his profile instead of the American flag, showcasing his pride in his Italian heritage—just in case that wasn’t clear enough.
Venmo
Status: Still Up
Venmo is a personal payment platform commonly used in the United States.
Activity on LM’s account is mostly from 2017, the year when Luigi was selling Christmas lights at his university. While we’re not entirely sure what he was raising money for, many of the payments made to and from him included some of the silly comments that showcased Luigi’s sense of humor.
DISQUS: @luigimangione
State: Still up Joined: Jun 20, 2017 Last active: Jun 20, 2017
LM's only activity here was commenting on a post from Wait But Why. The blog post was Neuralink and the Brain’s Magical Future. This was the only community he followed and his only interaction on the platform.
Sporcle: lnmangione
State: Still up Joined: Jan 23, 2024 Last active: Feb 4, 2024
Sporcle is a trivia and quiz platform where users can test their knowledge on various topics. LM had an account here, among the quizzes he completed were Most Visited Websites, Countries in Europe, SpongeBob Characters, Most Populous Countries, US States, Computer Hardware Parts, Programming Language Popularity, Genetics Vocabulary, Super Secure Bunker and Erase the Periodic Table.
Devpost: luigimangione
State: Still up
This is a platform where developers showcase and submit projects for hackathons. LM was active here during his university years, submitting a project for PennApps competition. Not much to see, but it gives a glimpse into his early coding days.
Other sites that seem to belong to Luigi are:
Apple Profile State: Still up A default profile linked to Apple services, not much to see here.
DockerHub State: Still up A platform for sharing and managing Docker containers, LM had no repositories here.
HackerRank State: Still up A coding challenge site; LM had no public activity or submissions here.
Medium State: Still up A blogging platform; no known posts from LM, but the account exists.
And that would be all the profiles I know of so far. As a small reward for making it to the end of this post, here’s a low-quality picture of Luigi showing off his perfect side profile 🙌
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Tutoring Temptation
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d870f36547a60b54838c5b352ee06334/e27b02997722889e-21/s540x810/7556b7fa6d5c6e5f7bd6567de01706eca6174ef0.jpg)
Wonwoo X Reader
WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )
TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.
You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.
The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."
Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.
"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.
He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.
As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.
The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.
"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"
You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.
"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."
You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."
You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.
As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."
You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.
For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."
You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."
His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.
"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."
The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change. As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.
Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.
As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.
The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind.
As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.
“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed.
“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.
The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.
He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem… different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."
A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.
Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss.
He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.
Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.
He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.
His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.
He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance, his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.
He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow.
He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again.
You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile.
"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him.
"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you.
His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be.
"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.
His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"
You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.
You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."
Dividers by @strangergraphics
#wonwoo hard hour#wonwoo smut#svt wonwoo#seventeen wonwoo#wonwoo hard thoughts#svt smut#jeon wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x reader#seventeen smut#wonwoo fanfic#seventeen wonwoo smut#wonwoo
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I feel that this would turn stardew into a little bit of a horror game. Especially since he would probably show up there because of his "neighbor" living there, ae: the farmer. His events will probably be unsettling and a little disturbing, but never fully goes into horror territory. I have thought up a few things he may do while in stardew. +He will probably live in the community center, and it may come alive just like Home. (This is for those who think Wally/Home are the same entity...plus, it would be hilarious to see a community center home) +Unintentionally creeps out the townsfolk because they keep mentioning things that Wally does, like== ="That Wally fellow...he seems strange, doesn't he? I saw him staring at me from the dark while I was taking a night walk last night..." ="Be careful, Farmer. That Wally guy is a weirdo. I don't think I have ever seen him eat anything else other than fruit and when Gus offered him a burger....he just...glared at it." ="That newcomer Wally...I feel a strong negative energy surrounding him, but I can't explain why. I would be cautious, Farmer. That character is showing signs of being rather ominous." +Wally is the only person that doesn't have friendship decay or dislikes. He enjoys whatever you give him, no matter if it's a piece of junk or a diamond. His friendship can only go up and it will only go down if you get married to someone else in the town other than him. +Wally has no known "birthday". Instead, his "birthday" is on Spring 1st, the day you arrived in Stardew Valley. +If the Player dates and marries Wally, the community center will go back to normal...and the Player's house will come alive instead. +Wally will probably start out with max friendship, since you're supposed to be "best friends" with Wally. +If the joja route is picked instead of the community center route, the joja shop will come alive, Wally will become the owner, and the joja salesman will mysteriously disappear. Asking the townsfolk about him will only give you ominous messages like "What are you talking about? Wally has always been the owner of joja mart!". +Walking around after dark will have a chance to trigger a cutscene with Wally or show the more ominous side of him following you after dark, like the townsfolk said before. +If you are romancing Wally, other townsfolk will be slightly concerned that you are mingling with him, but won't prevent you from loving or marrying him. +Wally will send you gifts constantly into your mailbox. This could be just rocks, money, or even ores he has found. +Wally will paint on non-rainy days as his idle animation when he is out and about, however, he will still talk to you unlike other townfolk that get "engrossed" in their tasks that they ignore the farmer. +The option to divorce Wally is completely removed after the marriage event. Divorce becomes impossible and other routes will be locked from ever occurring. Trying to romance someone else will simply give you the message that "a force beyond your control makes you crush the bouquet in your hands". +If you return late at night, and if you're married to Wally, he can be seen standing in your shared bedroom, waiting for you to arrive. +The only towsnfolk not bothered by Wally are the children, The Dwarf, and Krobus. They don't seem to find him as scary or unsettling as the adults do. +Wally can take care of farming tasks and children are possible, and it's something he mentions a fair bit in passing, so he's a very decent husband. His section of the house is themed with art supplies and painting utensils. +Fainting in the mines while dating Wally will have him pick up the farmer instead and will heal you free of charge. Which makes him useful even before marriage. +Due to him having a high friendship at the start of the game, Wally can be married within a week of starting your game. Making all the townsfolk confused and uncertain of what happened between you both to get married so fast after moving to Stardew Valley. =--- Sorry for the mile long ramble. It's 4am.
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Remember the time when I was trying to made stardew valley mode? I give up 📑 because I not the best coder haha, so here are the sprites that I made!
(Maybe I'll return to this mod in the summer? Not sure haha)
Why not you know(?)
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The Shadows That Nurture 11
Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-
Enjoy!
Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next
Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.
Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”
“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”
“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.
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“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”
Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”
“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”
“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”
“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“
“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.
“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”
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You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.
You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”
“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“
“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”
“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.
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John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“
“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.
“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”
“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument. Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“
“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”
You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”
“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.
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Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.
“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”
You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”
“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.
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While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.
“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.
“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”
Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou
#dc x invincible#dc crossover#invincible crossover#yandere batfam#yandere batfam x neglected reader#yandere invincible#neglected reader#yandere batfamily#fem!reader#female!reader#platonic yandere#yandere!mark grayson#yandere!nolan grayson#yandere!debbie grayson
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—- lunch munch club. ft schlatt. ᝰ
summary: watching porn late one night when you come across an interesting video. you're taken by surprise when you see the main male star is also the man who's streams you tune into almost daily.
— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, munch schlatt, mentions of oral, schlatt does porn (duh), open ending.. so we can expand upon this if we're interested.
authors note: hii! the two ideas i had originally can wait, because the lovely @fanficfox posted something about lc!schlatt doing porn and it struck me with inspo. so! everyone say thank you fox, and i hope you all enjoy! ♡
it's not uncommon for you to have some time to just yourself and the stash of porn videos that pop up on your twitter feed
twitter algorithm knows what to give you these days, which is nice. it saves you the hassle of finding a good account
but perhaps twitter knows you a little too well, when you're recommended a video of a guy eating a girl out
and you're intrigued of course, because who doesn't love that? especially when the camera is on her chest, helping entice you into the experience. as if it were you
the video is already a few seconds in by the time you click on it, and you're introduced to the scene with obscene moans escaping the girl
you can see her thighs tremble around the head in between her thighs, her free hand reaching out to run her fingers through the male's hair
you can hear muffled groans from in between her thighs, and you watch as the head moves back slightly, taking a breath
"god sweetheart, you taste so fuckin' good. could stay down here all night and take my sweet time with you."
that's when a shiver runs through your body, because oh. that sounded like.. and you supposed when you looked at the figure of the male, and the hair..
no. you were being stupid. of course you were. why on earth would schlatt of all people do porn. you know what he's like, he wouldn't
but oh, he would. and when he raises his head from beneath the girl's thighs with his lips glistening with her slick, you're frozen
it's as if your mind has short-circuited, because what the fuck?? you have so many questions; why was schlatt doing porn, why was he not making it subtle, why was he fucking good at it?
you don't have time to focus on your own questions, because your eyes are drawn back to the screen. you watch as his slim, naked body crawls up the bed, getting closer to the camera, licking his lips slowly as he groans
"words can't describe how good that was. need you to taste yourself, baby."
and with that, he's leaning over the camera to lock lips with the girl
immediately you close the tab. your whole being is flushed, and you feel hot inside for many reasons
you felt like you shouldn't have seen that, like you were.. intruding. which was stupid, he put this on the internet, there's nothing private about that
you decided you'd sleep it off. or that maybe this was a bizarre dream you'd wake up from not too long from now. anything but clicking back onto it
and yet only 10 minutes later, you had re-opened the tab
the next evening, schlatt is streaming and you try to watch it like normal. as if last night didn't happen
but you couldn't
now, every time he makes a suggestive joke or comment, you're transported back to last night
when he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck mid-stream, you remember how he looked doing it in the video, before he crawled towards the camera
when he licks his lips after taking a drink, getting the remnants of whatever liquid he had consumed from them, you can only see him licking the girl's slick off himself
you felt insane, like you couldn't act normal about it
and maybe it was part of the insanity, but it felt like he knew.
maybe you were just psychoanalysing his every move now, but you could've sworn he was never like this before.. he was
you decided to test the waters with a few donations littered throughout the night
when he has ordered food in and was wolfing it down, there were scraps and sauces across his lips
"are you always this messy? i thought you liked to take your time with things."
when he's reviewing a video and he's talking a lot over a particular section
"you ever been told you talk too much, or do people usually like that?"
or, when he's playing a poorly made hide 'n' seek game with fans
"i'm not sure you're as good at hiding things as you may think."
"oops, 'things' autocorrected in."
every time schlatt hears one of your donations come through tts, he feels a shiver run down his back
he knew his little side hustle wasn't exactly locked behind security, it was just.. out there
maybe he was overthinking it, reading too much into your donations for no reason
either way, he's noting down your name on a sticky note on his desk for next stream for.. reasons.
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“I’m almost finished, babe.”
“Baby…..”
“Babe…..”
“You better answer me before I start saying your government name.” You whined from your spot on the couch as you adjusted the pillow behind your back.
Joe literally peeked his head out from the kitchen to look at you and gave you a blank stare.
“There you are! Hi husband! When will you be in here to sit with me so that I can bother you?” You asked and he simply sighed.
“Princess, you can't have it both ways. You said you were hungry, so I'm in here fixing you food but yet you're yelling and wanting me to be in there with you so which one is it?” He asked and you simply rolled your eyes.
“Keep doing it and they're going to get stuck. I guarantee it and when it happens, I'm taking you off my insurance.”
“Babyyyy that's not funny!”
“I wasn't trying to be funny. Now I'm almost finished babe if you would ever be so patient. I need to feed you and my big headed spawns before you bite my head off.”
“Hey! Stop talking about my babies!” You gasped while Joe started laughing.
“You saw that latest sonogram! I'd be VERY surprised if you pushed them out. I'm actually surprised you can still walk on a daily basis.”
“And I will bite your head up top and down below if you don't stop talking about our children.”
“I…. That was rude and unnecessary.”
“So was you saying our children have big heads and that you would take me off your insurance if my eyes got stuck because I rolled them too many times.”
“But I didn’t lie.”
“Whatever. I want cheese fries.”
“So, you can have heartburn later? And be screaming at the top of your lungs for me to make it stop? I think not.”
“You're my husband and therefore supposed to go along with everything I want. I am carrying your children the last time I checked.”
“Yes, but within reason.” He told you as he handed you your plate.
You balanced it on your belly to inspect it and immediately turned up your nose.
“Don't look at it like that.”
“There is NOTHING fried on this plate.”
“Baby, don't start.”
“I'm calling Ja'Marr. I want chicken nuggets.”
“Seriously!? There is chicken on your plate.”
“It's not FRIED. But I'll be good and eat it. Thank you, babe. I appreciate you and love you so much.” You told Joe as you motioned him to lean down so you could kiss him.
“I love you too.”
“But I'm definitely getting chicken nuggets later. But um, one question. Please tell me you seasoned this?”
“We've been married for how many years? I think I know better."
#joe burrow#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow x black reader#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow fanfic#joe burrow fanfiction#joe shiesty#joey burrow#see me through you
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This was supposed to be a one-off thing but these reblogs inspired more so...
Also to answer ur question Roni would absolutely be petty enough to pull out a file to shut up her less than savory and judgmental co-workers. The kids are always put first regardless of background.
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Roni got her answer on the bet about two weeks later. After her initial home visit to see how the twins were doing in Wayne Manor.
Even if it was never outright said aloud, just watching the way the family interacted with Ellie and Danny told her enough. Though the solo interviews with each kid did solidify it.
"So Danny," Roni watched as Danny nervously taped the side of his knee, half interested in what Roni had to say and half interested in the doorway that Ellie and the Wayne siblings had just exited through. "Before we start, I just have to make you aware that nobody is allowed to listen into this conversation and that whatever you say is completely protected between you and me."
Danny just nodded along to Roni's word, eyes still on the doorway before breaking off to look at her fully.
"Got it. Hit me with the questions, Roni."
Roni let out a small smile, shaking her head at him before flipping through her notebook to an empty page.
"How has it been living in the Wayne manor so far? Has Bruce been treating you nicely?"
Danny only shrugs as if that was his final answer. "He and Alfred have been kind. A little too Richie Rich if you ask me but other than that they treat Ellie nicely and that's all I care about honestly"
Roni feels her sympathy for the boy (and her own hesitance) return as she writes his answer within her notes but it escapes out of her like an amused snort.
"They tend to come off that way most times. Between you and me though?" She leaned a bit more to whisper. "I think Bruce just likes to spoil his kids with his riches to impress them and it just rubbed off with each one he adopted afterwards."
Danny snorted at that, eyes twinkling in his own amusement as he nodded along with her theory.
"Anyways, How about the Wayne Kids? Have they come around to introduce themselves to you two yet?"
"Some of them have, like Damian. He came home from summer camp earlier in the week. He's pretty cool, sarcastic to all hell, but cool." Roni hums and bites her cheek at the mention of the smallest Wayne. When she had first placed Duke into the Wayne's care, she had her doubts on how Damian would react since Gotham knew he had a short-temper with most things.
But now the two were packed together like a pack of sardines any time she saw them, so she wasn't too surprised Damian got along with the twins. It was probably the feral behavior the twins displayed that made them click.
"I also got to meet Cass, Dick, and Jason yesterday. Dick kept teasing us 4 for being like double twins. Calling us the quadruplets or something, Jason just smacked the back of his head and called him an asshole."
She couldn't help but smile at the mention of her past foster cases. Roni tended to try and remember every single kid that went through her care and office, so it wasn't hard to picture the three doing something like that around new company.
Although she would have to remind Bruce about excessive language amongst the kids, even if they were 13 respectively the law didn't really see it as appropriate behavior to show around fosters.
From there, the interviews went smoothly with them both and Roni honestly had nothing new to report for their files except for excellent care as it usual was. And, just as she guessed, a request towards looking into possible adoption within the Wayne household for both Phantoms.
Bruce had been quick to pull her side before she left to make the request, eyes looking fondly towards the twins play fighting with Jason, Tim and Stephanie (from what Roni remembered for the last one). Ellie sassing them as Jason cackled on the sidelines and Danny snorting in amusement, arms crossed.
When Roni looked back into Bruce Wayne's pleading eyes, begging her to look into starting the adoption process she just sighed fondly and nodded. Who was she to deny the richest man in Gotham's adoption addiction?
She called it 3 weeks ago anyways when she dropped them off. And heaven knows that twice the amount for the bet would do nicely towards a new car battery.
-------------
As Roni got back into her office that night later than she had even planned to be, she was pleasantly surprised to find a few things inside that hadn't been there before she'd left to check in on each of her fosters.
One of them was Red Hood, who was awkwardly standing there staring at her through his red helmet with a handful of familiar looking stickers in hand. Both of them were silent for a moment before Roni decided to save him the embarrassment and simply back out of the office room to allow him a graceful escape.
She did not get paid enough to deal with that situation. Not in Gotham anyways.
When she re-entered the room, Red Hood having disappeared silently, Danny and Ellie's files sat right at the top of her desk first and foremost.
A few different stickers greeted her this time.
Robin and Co. stickers, Red-Hoods stuck out like a sore thumb as it covered over Nightwing's at least half way as some sort of petty move, and one largely placed Batman one were now on the outside of both files, to let her know they were now watching over the kids and were Robin approved.
That alone put her at ease.
To know that the Bat was taking some time to look into the sketchy meta-trafficking ring the twins were found at was like getting an early Christmas present.
They would be even safer now beyond being in Bruce's care and she knew that even if Bruce never did end up adopting the twins (which she doubted heavily) they were at the very least a good influence on them from what she'd seen today.
That and the twins would probably never be able to really get rid of the Wayne's. Not really, anyways.
Most Robin approved files didn't really leave the Manor without getting adopted into it first.
Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.
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"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"
Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.
On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.
"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."
Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.
But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.
"What is it?"
"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"
Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.
"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."
Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.
"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"
"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"
He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.
It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.
Bruce could relate heavily.
"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."
Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.
Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.
They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.
Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"
Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.
Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.
"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.
Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.
As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.
Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.
Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.
Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.
Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.
Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.
"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"
There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.
#dc x dp prompt#dp x dc crossover#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp#dpxdc#Danny Phantom#Dani Phantom#I can't get over Roni now#She was just a random girl before this lol#Get it tho Roni ig#Roni the caseworker#Also I thought itd be funny if the batkids tend to switch the responsibility of going to place the stickers on the files in the cpp#like imagine walking into ur office and seeing red robin just silently sticking his sticker ontop of a file#specifically ontop of redhoods sticker to prove a point#also btw when the Phantoms get adopted officially they get to have their own logo join the sticker collages for CPP files#itd be cute
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Cross My Heart
Part 16 - Self Sacrifice
Summary: poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: angst, injuries, hurt/comfort.
Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3
Enjoy <3
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“Ghost! We need that door open now!” Price shouts as he turns. Gaz comes over to the window in the door.
“On the console, there should be a green switch. Try flipping it.” He says. You nod heaving as the fresh oxygen in the room slowly gets replaced with whatever gas is being pumped in. Finding the green switch is harder than you think. The gas is stinging your eyes now, they fill with water and you have to keep brushing tears out of the way with your free hand.
It feels like you’re looking forever, your fingers running over every button and switch. You finally find it blinking a few times to get the tears out your eyes before flipping it. The switch clicks and the hissing stops. You regain your composure, you cough breathing in big gulps of air.
Your hand squeezes your vest then you hear coughing. You look over at the window. You see Price cough, you can hear the others start too. You look back at the console.
It’s you or them. Fuck.
Your eyes lock onto Price as you wipe the tears from your face. Fuck . This was going to suck. You can’t let them die though. You move back over to the green switch.
“Dont, you dare!” Price shouts between coughs. You look over at him. You can’t listen to them suffer. You can’t let them die.
You flick the switch. There’s a few seconds of silence then the hissing starts up again. The smell of chemicals fill the room making your eyes sting, slowly their coughing stops as yours starts up again.
“NO!” Price shouts, you look over at him, your hand comes up to your nose and mouth. It doesn’t matter though. You move away from the console and towards the window.
“Can’t let you die.” You wheeze, your eyes are stinging, you can barely see him now. You think back to the kiss, the sex. You wipe your eyes, looking past Price but you can’t see anything.
“Ghost. That door needs to be opened!” You hear Price shout. “Gaz, is there anything you can do?”
“I’m trying!” You hear Gaz shout. Your lungs are burning now, there’s not much clean air in the room, your head is starting to spin. You can’t tell if it’s the poison or the lack of oxygen. It doesn’t matter. They’re safe.
Your hand drops from your face and you smile at him. For a second your eyes clear, you can see his face, his hand pressed up against the glass. You reach up and press your hand against his. You swear you can feel the heat from his hand on the other side of the door.
“Price.” You cough, pressing your body against the door to hold yourself upright. You don’t know how much time you have. You don’t expect them to save you, but if they don’t get out you’ll haunt them from the beyond. The thought makes you chuckle which throws you into a coughing fit.
“GAZ!” You hear Price shout. You slam your hand against the glass and he turns back to look at you. It’s not Gaz’s fault, it’s no one’s fault. You hear banging, pounding against metal.
“Price. Thank you.”
“John, and you can thank me later.” He says, you smile, coughing. There’s not going to be a later. You can’t hold yourself up for much longer black spots flash in your vision.
“Got it!” You hear Ghost shout. You try to take a breath in but you can’t panic rises in you and your legs give way. You fall to the floor looking up to see the gas coming in through the vents.
You die and they live. It was how it’s supposed to end. Ever since the beginning when they were going to put a bullet in your head. Maybe it’s fate or something. It feels like a fitting end. You let out one last long breath before everything goes black.
…
Price is holding his breath as your body slides down to the floor. He watches you go limp against the door. He wants to tear the door off, they need to get you out of there. Suddenly there’s a wiring sound and the gas in the room starts to get sucked back up the vents.
A few seconds later the door clicks and slides open. Price moves to the side, Soap and Ghost push past him and grip your vest pulling you out the room and into the hallway.
“Is she breathing?” Price asks, he doesn’t get a response straight away. “Soap!”
“She’s breathing, barely.” He replies, his ear pressed up against your face.
“What the fuck happened?” Price asks following Gaz into the main room.
“Makarov left a trap for us. He knew we were getting close.” Gaz says. “There'll be more Konni on the way we need to leave.”
“Shit.” Price curses under his breath pulling the sat-phone off his vest. “Ghost, go get us a car. Gaz get what data you can.” He holds the phone up to his ear listening to it ring out.
“Price.” Lawell’s voice comes through the phone.
“Laswell. We need exfil, medevac.”
“Not possible.”
“Why?”
“Captain, you did this without our approval, we cannot send unit’s into Russia right now.” Shepherd says. Price pulls the phone away from his ear and curses.
“Makarov is dead.”
“Good. But you still have a job to do, Captain. Secure the weapons in Russia and the nukes in Urzikstan then we can call it even for this little revenge mission you’ve been on.” Shepherd says, Price looks over at Gaz typing on the laptop.
“Hard to do when you’re one man down.” Price spits.
“Who is injured? Or is it that smuggler you’ve insisted on dragging around?” Shepherd asks, he sounds mad. Price doesn’t say anything, he hears a sigh down the line.
“Acceptable losses I'm afraid. For the best really, the amount of paperwork she’s generated is unbelievable.” Shepherd says. Price turns to look at you, Johnny is holding you in his arms, all the colour looks like it has drained from your face. Acceptable loss . It makes him mad, so mad he wants to throw the phone across the room. You’re not a loss, because they’re not going to lose you.
“You have a job to do Captain and I would suggest you do it quickly. If we have to send someone else in to clean up your mess it won’t end well for you.” There’s the warning, the threat. It almost makes Price laugh, he holds it together turning to look at Gaz who nods at him.
“We’re sending the data from Russia.” Price says keeping his voice level.
“Good. Now get back to Urzikstan. Preferably without picking up any more strays.” The call ends.
Acceptable loss . How dare he.
“When’s evac coming?” Soap asks. Price swallows, building his confidence back up.
“There is no evac. We need to get to Urzikstan ourselves.” Price says.
“What!” Soap shouts gripping you tighter. He can hear the anger in his voice. “Cap, she needs medical attention.”
“If it’s anything like the gas I inhaled in Verdansk she’ll be fine.”
“It’s nothing like the gas from Verdansk.” Soap snaps back before looking down at you.
“Price, vehicle secured.” Ghost’s voice comes through the radio.
“Okay, let's move.” Price says.
…
Ghost insisted on driving. Price wanted to drive, he wanted to have something else to focus his mind on other than the sound of your laboured breathing from the back seats. He should be happy, you’re breathing which means you’re alive. As long as you’re alive he’s not going to panic.
He looks back in the rear view mirror. Soap is still fussing over you, he hasn’t let you go since they dragged you out that room. His fingers brushing your hair and face, his other arm keeping you steady while Ghost barrels down the road.
He looks over at Gaz, their eyes meet for a second and he looks down to his hand rubbing your thigh. He smiles, swallowing some of the dread away and looking back out to the road. Kyle was the most sceptical about you, said he didn’t want to waste time getting close to you if you were going to betray them.
Johnny tried to convince him it wasn't going to be like that. Even Price had his doubts, all the way up until the kiss, he couldn’t wait any longer not after hearing what Simon and Johnny got up to. There was something in your eyes, something about the way you kissed him back he knew you weren't going to betray them.
He can almost feel the guilt radiating off of Kyle. He never got to give you a chance, now he might never get to. Price lets out a breath pushing the thought away. They’re not going to lose you, they’re taking you to Farah, they have doctors, you’ll be fine.
“What the hell?” Ghost says. Price snaps over to look at him as the car rolls to a stop.
“What is it?” He asks.
“I don’t know, something’s broken.” He says getting out of the car. Price follows him, they walk over and Ghost opens the hood, steam and smoke fills the air. It’s so hot they both have to take a step back. When it dissipates, Ghost reaches down to touch something but pulls his hand back straight away.
“Fuck. Cooling system must be broken or something. Engine overheated.” Ghost says.
“Shit.” Price responds looking around. This is not a good place to be stuck. They’re by the border but there’s nothing around for miles, scattered farms and some houses. No cars around for them to take, it’s starting to get dark too.
“How far can we push this before it breaks totally?” Price asks.
“I don’t know, a kilometre, maybe 2 I wouldn’t want to risk it and be left with no transport whatsoever. If we could leave it for a few hours to cool we might be able to make it over the border.” Ghost says, Price sighs looking around again.
“Price!” Soap calls. He hears the urgency in his voice, the fear. He walks round the car leaving Ghost.
“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning over you. You’re shaking, beads of sweat have formed over your body.
“Feel.” Soap says pulling Price’s hand to touch you.
“She’s freezing.” He says pressing on your cheek with the back of his hand.
“What’s wrong with the car?” Gaz asks.
“Overheating, Ghost thinks the cooling is broken or something.” Price says as the hood of the car is slammed close.
“There’s a house back down the road at the end of the field. Looks empty, maybe we could see if they have anything to help?” Ghost asks. Price looks over to where he’s pointing.
“That or we can sit for a few hours, let the car cool.” He looks back over at you. “Get her inside somewhere warm, try and get her temperature back up.” He doesn’t like the thought of stopping here, but they’re running out of options.
Everyone seems to silently agree, Price and Ghost get back in the car. The drive back to the house felt like it was taking hours, not minutes, the drive down the mud offroad was the worst. Ghost had to slow down to stop the car from skidding and Price was worried they could get stuck. When they make it to the house it really is starting to get dark. There are no lights turning on, that's a good sign. There are plants in the window that look like their wilting, maybe this place was abandoned when Konni increased their presence in the area.
“Me and Ghost will clear the place. You two stay here.” Price says as Ghost gets out of the car. There’s looks of concern on Gaz, and Soap’s face, your lips almost look like they're turning blue. They need to be quick, before this gets any worse.
The house is clear, they know that before they make it to the second floor. Opening the door to furniture covered in sheets, boxes strewn all over the place. Upstairs the building is an empty bar one bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom.
Gaz and Soap are already carrying you into the house before they get the all clear. They place you down on the sofa running around and finding anything to cover you in. Even with a pile of blankets on you covering everything but your face your lip is still quivering.
“Body heat.” Gaz says. “She needs body heat, like if someone has hypothermia you warm them up with your heat so they don’t warm up too fast.”
“She doesn’t have hypothermia.” Soap says.
“No but she’s freezing and her lips are turning purple.”
“It’s worth a try.” Price says, you look like you’re getting worse, not better. “There’s a bed upstairs.” Soap sighs but starts pulling the blankets off you before scooping you back up in his arms. Everyone follows him to the second floor. Ghost pulls the sheets off the bed and Soap lays you down.
“Take her clothes off, it needs to be skin to skin contact.” Gaz says pulling the bottom of your shirt up. Soap raises an eyebrow but listens, helping him strip you down to your underwear. Then they do the same stripping down to their boxers before climbing into bed.
Gaz rolls you on your side pressing his chest against your back. “Christ, she’s freezing.” He says reaching down for the duvet and pulling it over you all.
“You sure this will work?” Soap asks reaching over to wrap his arms around Gaz pulling them close.
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Gaz says. Ghost lets out a sigh slumping down on the armchair in the room, he pinches the bridge of his nose closing his eyes. Price walks over to him and rests his hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll be okay.” He says, he’s not sure if he believes it himself but it has to be real. There’s no way after everything that this is the end.
“And if she’s not?” He asks looking up at Price.
“Then at least we know who to blame.” Price says.
…
Everything hurts. Your chest hurts the most, and your eyes. You’re freezing but there’s someone laid next to you. You move, hands instantly find you, voices filling the air as you open your eyes to look around.
“Eazy, you’re okay.” Johnny says. You open your mouth to speak but it’s dry, you slap your lips together trying to swallow what little moisture there is. It throws you into a coughing fit. You shoot up in the bed, your hand pressed on your chest.
Hands land on your shoulders and back as you try to suck in gulps of air between the coughs. Someone presses a bottle of water in your hand and you bring it to your lips gulping it down. The coughing stops and you sit there panting. It’s like you can’t get a full breath of air in.
You can hear the wheezing in your breaths, each breath stings your chest. It feels like you can still smell the sickly sweet odour of the gas. Someone reaches over and takes the bottle out of your hand. You look up to see Price stood by the side of the bed.
“John.” You say smiling at him. Your voice is hoarse, it doesn’t sound like your own, it sounds weird. Your free hand comes up to rub your neck. He smiles back at you and you look round at Johnny and Gaz holding you up.
“Where’s your shirts?” You ask, turning to Gaz. Before any of them can respond he leans in and kisses you. His kiss is soft, his hands come up to cup your face. You want to keep kissing him, you want his lips and hands to never let you go. You can’t kiss him for long though, you’re holding your breath, you have to break from him to breathe.
“Kyle,” he says. You smile at him.
“You gave us a proper scare lass. Thought we’d lost you.” Johnny says pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head.
“Don't do anything like that again. I don’t think my heart can take it.” Johnny says chuckling. You smile in his chest, yawning and closing your eyes. They made it out, made it out safe and managed to get you out too. They didn’t have to do that but they did.
You feel Kyle’s hands rubbing your back and John sits down on the bed. You open your eyes looking up at him. He reaches over to stroke your cheek.
“Thank you.” He says, you smile at him. “But seriously, don’t ever do that again.”
“Only if your life depends on it.” You reply. He tuts, shaking his head.
“Get some rest.” He says leaning forward to kiss your forehead before standing up off the bed. You look over at the light coming in from the doorway. You see Ghost’s silhouette blocking most of it.
“Good to have you back.” He says. You nod yawning again, your head still feels stuffy.
“C’mon, a few hours kip will do you the world of good.” Johnny says encouraging you to lie back. As soon as your head hits the pillows you feel exhausted.
“Will you stay?” You ask as you close your eyes.
“Yeah, we’ll stay.” Kyle says as you feel him lay back down next to you.
“We’re not going anywhere.” Johnny says pulling the duvet over you.
“Good.” You whisper feeling their arms wrap around you, pressing their bodies against yours. You never would have imagined the very people you thought would end your life in a heartbeat would be the people you risk your life for. A few days ago you were all strangers, now you’re lovers? Partners? It doesn’t matter, all you know is you wouldn’t want to change it for the world.
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Lucky Star: KWON JI-YONG x READER
summary: you're a member of 2NE1 and it's finally time for you and your group to debut. thanks to a minor distraction, disaster almost struck moments before you're supposed to go on, but luckily ji-yong is there to save the day--and your career.
word count: 4782
tags: fluff, slightly steamy flirting at the end
ao3 link
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Pre-performance chaos filled the shared dressing room: staff rushing in and out, adjusting outfits, reapplying makeup, and running through final checks. The other members of your group, 2NE1, were occupied. Chae-rin was discussing something with the stage manager, Minji was stretching in the corner of the room, while Bom and Sandara were warming up together on the couch.
And you?
You were staring at your reflection in the mirror, barely tuning into the noise around you. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your stomach flipping for reasons you didn’t quite understand. Well, objectively, it was understandable: the time has finally come for your group’s debut, but your mind was elsewhere. There must have been a deeper reason, right? Maybe it was excitement, maybe nerves. Or maybe—
"You’re gonna rip your outfit if you keep doing that."
A familiar voice snapped you out of your trance. You turned your head to see Ji-yong leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an amused smirk.
You immediately let go of the fabric and frowned. "I wasn’t—"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, maybe I was. But don’t you have BigBang things to do? Why are you here?" You huffed, your nerves jumping out through your vocal cords.
“Am I not allowed to support you?”
You gave him a look. "To check on me or to annoy me?"
His grin widened. "Can’t it be both?"
You rolled your eyes and turned back to the mirror, but you could still feel his gaze on you as he walked in and sat down next to you. It was unnerving, but not in a bad way. More like a “why does he always get under your skin so easily” kind of way. It wasn’t just the way he teased you—it was the way he lingered, the way his presence wrapped around you like a thread you couldn’t quite pull loose. He had always been like this, effortlessly slipping past your defenses with a smirk and a well-placed comment.
And yet, beneath all the banter, there was something else. Something quieter.
You weren’t sure if it was in the way he watched you now, eyes flickering with something unreadable, or in the way he always seemed to notice the things no one else did. But whatever it was, it made your pulse stutter in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. And everything to do with him.
"You’re nervous," Ji-yong said after a moment, his tone light but knowing.
You scoffed. "I am not."
He tilted his head. "You only mess with your clothes when you’re overthinking something. I’ve seen you do it a hundred times."
That made you pause. "You… noticed that?"
He blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He hadn’t planned on admitting how much he noticed—the little ways your nerves showed, the way you tried to hide them. But he saw it all. He always did.
And for some reason, it made something tighten in his chest. He didn’t like seeing you doubt yourself. Didn’t like the way your fingers curled around the fabric of your outfit like you were bracing for something to go wrong. He wanted to fix it. To say something that would make that crease in your brow disappear, to remind you that you had nothing to prove to anyone.
He quickly recovered, however, masking the thought with an easy smirk. "Of course. I am very observant."
"Or maybe you just enjoy making fun of me."
"That too," he admitted, grinning. "But seriously, why are you nervous?"
You hesitated before sighing. "I don’t know. It’s stupid."
Ji-yong leaned against the back of the couch, watching you expectantly. "Try me."
Again, you hesitated. You opted to pick up your mic and just play around with it. Carefully, of course. You couldn’t have it damaged moments before your performance.
You certainly weren’t used to talking about this kind of thing—not with him, at least. Sure, you bantered all the time, but this felt different. More personal. You were used to messing around with him during practice—playful teasing, stealing each other’s snacks, making small talk about the latest trends or whatever ridiculous thing that had happened during rehearsals that day. It was easy, effortless. A comfortable rhythm you had both fallen into without thinking. But this? Talking about something real, something personal? That was different. That was terrifying. If you let your guard down, if you let him see even a fraction of the doubts swirling in your mind, how would he react?
What if he saw more than that? What if he saw the way your heart stuttered whenever he looked at you a second too long? The way you hung onto his words more than you should? You had spent so much time hiding your feelings behind witty comebacks and casual conversations, and now, with the weight of his gaze on you, you weren’t sure if you could anymore.
After a moment, you exhaled. "I just… I want to be good enough. I don’t want to mess up."
Ji-yong was quiet for a beat before he spoke up. "You are good enough."
You glanced at him, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. "You say that like it’s a fact."
"It is a fact," he said easily. "If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here."
Your chest tightened at his words—not because they made you more nervous, but because they somehow made you feel lighter. Like you weren’t carrying the weight of your doubts alone.
"You really think so?" You asked before you could stop yourself.
He met your gaze, his expression softening just slightly. "Yeah. I know so."
For a second, neither of you spoke. The noise of the room faded into the background, and you found yourself focusing only on the way he was looking in the mirror at you—not teasing, not smug. Just the real Ji-yong.
Then, without a word, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin bracelet. A simple black cord, with a single charm dangling from it.
You blinked. "What’s that?"
He held it out. "For you."
“Why?”
"Because it’s my lucky charm. And now I’m giving it to you."
Your brows furrowed as you placed the microphone back down onto the dressing table, turned your entire body towards him, and slowly reached out. The charm was small but detailed—a tiny star, slightly worn at the edges, like it had been touched a hundred times before.
"You carry this around?" You asked, stil staring at the delicate jewelery.
"Yeah. Before every performance, I hold onto it. It kinda became a habit." He shrugged.
You looked back up at him. "But… why give it to me?"
Ji-yong’s smirk faded completely now, his smile softer and his eyes trained on you. "Because I think you need it more than I do right now."
Something warm spread through your chest, something that had nothing to do with simple nerves. You swallowed, looking down at the bracelet before he picked it up and slipped it onto your wrist.
"You better not be messing with me," you murmured. "Or I swear, I’ll—"
He chuckled. "Relax. No tricks. Just luck."
You ran your fingers over the charm, then glanced at him. "Thanks, Ji."
It was ridiculous how something so simple could affect him so much. He heard his name all the time—fans chanting it, members calling for him, staff addressing him formally. But when you said it, when you casually dropped the full syllables and just called him Ji—for the first time, at that—like it was the most natural thing in the world, his heart did this stupid little flutter in his chest. It was personal. Intimate, in a way he wasn’t sure you even realized. No one else had ever said it like you just did. And maybe it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
He smiled bashfully and scratched the back of his neck, stepping back. "Don’t get used to it."
Returning the smile, you laughed. "Too late."
Ji-yong opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Chae-rin called your name from across the room. “C’mon, girl. We’re on in five.”
It was only now you realised you were the only ones left in the room. Not an entirely great start. You turned to go, but just before you stepped away, you looked down at your wrist one more time. The charm glinted under the lights, and for the first time all day, your nerves didn’t feel so overwhelming.
Ji-yong watched as you walked off, hands in his pockets, a small, knowing smile on his lips.
Stepping out the room with Chae-rin, you were quickly escorted through the winding hallways of the backstage area by your managers. You felt like everything within you was racing; your thoughts and feelings, your blood, and not to mention your adrenaline. You took a deep breath as you stood with your group members and friends.
“Everything good to go?” You heard a manager ask your group, and you were about to confirm when you realised you were missing something. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you realised you weren’t holding—
"My mic!" You gasped, eyes widening. "I left it in the dressing room!"
The staff around you tensed and the girls looked at you like you were a ghost. You felt the blood drain from your face. This was it—your career was going to be over before it even started.
But before the panic could fully set in, a familiar voice drawled, "Looking for this?"
You spun around. Ji-yong was standing there, casually twirling your microphone in his fingers, looking way too smug for someone who just saved your life. You were simply too stunned to speak.
"You’re predictable," he teased. "I saw you put it down earlier and figured you’d forget it."
You grabbed the mic from his hands, your heart still racing. "You just knew I’d forget?!"
"What can I say? I pay attention."
There was something in the way he said it—something playful, yet sincere. For a moment, you forgot about the crowd waiting outside, the stage, the cameras. It was just Ji-yong, standing there with that cocky grin, acting like saving your entire debut was no big deal.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling warm. "Well… thank you."
He winked. "I got you."
The staff ushered you forward. As you stepped onto the stage, your nerves weren’t completely gone—but they weren’t overwhelming anymore either. And it was all thanks to your silly little crush.
The stage lights were blinding, the music pulsed through your body, and the crowd was electric. This was it—your debut performance. Your heart pounded, but the moment you struck your opening pose, adrenaline took over. The cheers were deafening, the energy infectious. You could barely take it all in when—
"YEAH! THERE’S OUR GIRLS!"
A seemingly louder voice—way too familiar—shouted from the crowd, making your stomach drop. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.
Sure enough, you spotted them. All the members of BigBang. Front and centre. Completely ignoring any attempt at blending in. Daesung was jumping up and down like an overenthusiastic fanboy, waving his arms wildly. Seung-hyun stood there, arms crossed with a proud smile. Taeyang was in full cheerleader mode, clapping and pointing at each of you as if you were his personal pride and joy. When did they get here?
But it was Ji-yong—always with the most subtle, but most intense gaze—who still caused your heart racing. His eyes were glued to the entire group, studying every move, like he was seeing each of you in a way no one else could.
You tried to shake off the nervous flutter that the thought brought, focusing back on the performance—but then—
"LOOK AT THEM GO!” Daesung shouted, pumping his fist in the air. You couldn’t help but laugh internally, knowing his tendency to be a little over the top.
Despite the fact that your heart was racing from the performance, you couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread through you at seeing the boys so clearly proud of you and the group. You knew they were supporting you all, but hearing their cheers loud and proud for the whole of 2NE1 made you feel unstoppable.
Minzy, who was just behind you on stage, leaned in close enough for you to hear her without the mic picking up her words. “They’re like our personal fan club.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, glancing to the side at her with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know they could get any louder.”
Dara shot you a knowing smile from across the stage, barely whispering into her mic as she adjusted her position. “I think your little boyfriend is impressed.”
You froze for half a second, caught off guard by Dara’s words, but then you noticed Ji-yong’s gaze again. He was watching you with an intensity that made your stomach do flips, but there was no teasing or playful banter. His eyes were warm, proud, but… there was something else there. Something you couldn’t quite name.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you quickly muttered back.
“But you still knew who I meant.” She teased quietly.
“Whatever.”
Getting into position for your part of the song—the first part of your performance—you quickly glanced at the boys, all of which were enthusiastically waving their lightsticks, yet you couldn’t help but focus on Ji-yong once more. It looked almost like he was seeing you for the first time, his eyes were full of admiration—truly in awe of your performance so far. To you, his focus almost felt like you were performing just for him. There was a part of you that wished it was just you and him.
That’s why you had to nail your parts, and you did. Not just for the group and yourself, but for him, too.
Afterwards, the van ride back to the dorm was a whirlwind of laughter and energy. You and the girls couldn’t stop talking over each other, each of you still reeling from the success of your debut performance. The night had been everything you’d hoped for and more—an incredible first step into your career. As the van pulled up to the dorm, you practically jumped out of your seat, eager to celebrate.
“We did it! We really did it!” Sandara was practically bouncing in her seat as you all stepped out, grinning from ear to ear. Minji followed suit, already doing a little victory dance as she skipped up the steps.
"I can't believe it!" Bom laughed, walking alongside you. "We’ve worked so hard for this moment. It feels unreal."
"I know! It feels like a dream," you replied, your heart still racing from the adrenaline. The thought of everything that had led up to this point made your chest swell with pride.
Inside, the dorm was cozy, a stark contrast to the bright stage lights and loud cheers. The atmosphere felt so much more relaxed, and everyone quickly scattered to grab drinks, snacks, and anything that would make this night even more memorable.
You wandered over to the kitchen, the warmth and excitement of the night settling in as you took a moment to let everything sink in. Chae-rin handed you a drink with a proud smile. "You were incredible tonight. Seriously, you looked like a star."
“Thank you, Chae-rin.” You returned the smile, your voice much quieter than before. As the leader of the group, she immediately picked up on the change in your behaviour. She knew you a little too well for your liking.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just…”
Momentarily, you looked down at the floor.
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put it into words. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d been feeling off, but there was something about the night that made everything feel a little heavier. Between the performance, the teasing from the girls, and the subtle tension you couldn’t deny with Ji-yong, it felt like your emotions were tangled up in a way that was hard to unpack.
“I don’t know,” you said finally. “It’s just... everything happened so fast tonight, you know? I think I’m still processing it all. We worked so hard to get here, and now that we’ve done it, it’s like—what’s next?”
“I get it,” she said quietly. “It’s a big step. Sometimes, when you reach a goal, you don’t always know how to feel about it. Especially when it feels like it came all at once.”
You took a sip of your drink. “And it’s weird... because I thought I’d feel proud. And I do, but there’s also this... pressure. Like, we just debuted, and now we’re expected to keep getting better. To keep doing more.”
Her eyes softened, taking a step closer to you. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” she said, her voice steady and full of conviction. “It’s okay to feel a little lost. We’re all in this together. And I know you. You’ve always been determined, but you also care deeply about making every step count. You’ll find your way. Don’t let the pressure take away from the moment we’ve earned.”
You looked at her, surprised by how much those words grounded you. Chae-rin wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, but when she spoke, it always felt like she understood exactly what you were going through. You hadn’t expected this level of comfort from her, but in that moment, it meant everything.
“I don’t want to let the pressure get to me,” you admitted, lowering your glass. “But sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be... perfect. You know? Like, we all have our roles to play, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
She gave you a small, knowing smile. “We’re all figuring it out. And trust me, you’re not alone in that feeling. You think I haven’t had moments where I felt like I wasn’t doing enough? Or that I was missing something important? We all get caught up in the idea that we have to have it all figured out, but that’s not the reality of it.” She paused for a moment, letting her words settle. “The important thing is that you’re doing it. We’re all doing it. You’ve come this far for a reason, and it’s not because you’re trying to be perfect. It’s because you have something real to offer. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—convince you otherwise.”
You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, hearing her say it out loud. Sometimes, the doubt and fear could be overwhelming, but hearing those words from Chae-rin made everything feel just a little more manageable.
“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice a little shaky. “I needed to hear that. I think I’ve just been holding everything in, trying to be ‘on’ all the time.”
Chae-rin’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got the girls, and you’ve got me. Don’t forget that. We’re not just teammates—we’re a family. And we’ve got your back.”
The sincerity in her voice hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you could feel the tears threatening to surface. But you quickly blinked them away, grateful for her words and for the quiet strength she always seemed to radiate.
“You’ve also got the boys. I mean, you saw them out there, right? Our number one fans.” Both of you couldn’t help but to laugh at the thought of the way they were screaming their support from the crowd.
“Thanks,” you whispered again, this time a little more sure of yourself. “I think I just needed to hear that I’m not expected to be perfect. I’m not even sure where I got that idea from.”
“Everyone gets caught in that mindset sometimes,” she said, offering a small chuckle. “Just don’t let it control you.”
You both stood there for a moment, the noise from the living room growing fainter as the conversation between you and Chae-rin deepened. In that moment, you realized that despite all the pressure and uncertainty that came with debuting, you weren’t alone. You had your team, your family—your sisters—and they’d be there every step of the way.
With a final squeeze on your shoulder, Chae-rin gave you a wink. “Now, come on. Let’s get back out there before the others think we’ve abandoned them.”
You chuckled, feeling lighter than you had in hours. “I think I need some time to myself, my social battery is drained. But, seriously, thank you.”
“Of course.” She nodded with a small but genuine smile. “Anytime.”
“I’ll be on the roof if you need me,” you clarified, in case somebody really did need to reach you.
The cool night air felt refreshing against your skin as you stood on the roof, away from the noise and chaos below. The city lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the rooftops, but in this moment, everything felt still. You let out a quiet breath, your mind replaying the night’s performance, the teasing, the congratulations, and the deep conversation with Chae-rin. It was all so surreal—everything you had worked for, everything you had dreamed of. Yet, even now, as you stood here, alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t shake the pressure that had settled in your chest. There was a sense of responsibility that weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t afford to let down the people who had supported you—your team, your family, the fans. But for the first time tonight, you let yourself feel proud of what you’d accomplished, even if it was just a small victory in the grand scheme of things. You had made it this far. You had earned this moment. Maybe that was enough, for now.
A quiet peace settled over you as you stood there, your thoughts drifting away from the bustling celebration downstairs. It felt nice to have a moment of calm, even if it was just for a little while. But then you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, and before you could turn around, a voice cut through the stillness.
“You know, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. The night’s still young.”
You turned, startled to find Ji-yong standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the railing with a small grin on his face.
“Ji,” you said, blinking in surprise. “I didn’t even know you were in the building. Did you guys stop by to celebrate after the performance?”
“Yeah, we came by,” he replied with a shrug, stepping closer. “But we thought you and the girls might want some time to yourselves. I didn’t want to interrupt. But, now that I’m here... looks like you could use some company.”
“And here I was, thinking you were too cool for group celebrations.”
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Who do you think I am? I’m here to celebrate you, of course,” he said with a wink. “You and that lucky bracelet. How could I not?”
You chuckled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the railing, mimicking his casual stance. “You’ve really taken the whole ‘lucky charm’ thing and run with it, haven’t you?”
He grinned, his confidence palpable. “Why wouldn’t I? I picked the perfect accessory, didn’t I? I’m just saying... maybe it’s more than just luck.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly masked it with a teasing tone. “What are you trying to say?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but curious.
He took a small step closer, his voice lowering just a bit, his gaze flicking briefly to the bracelet on your wrist. “I’m saying... maybe you’re the one who’s lucky.”
You glanced up at him, your heart hammering in your chest. His words were teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness to them now, a tension that was building between the two of you.
“Is that so?”
He took another step forward, and now, he was standing much closer than you expected. You could feel the heat of his body, the space between you two practically nonexistent. “I think so,” he said softly, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “But I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Before you could respond, Ji-yong was even closer, his body nearly pressed against yours as he leaned in. His hands moved to the railing behind you, caging you in, his arms locking you in place as you felt your breath catch in your throat. He was now leaning over you, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.
Your heart raced in your chest, and your breath hitched as you tried to steady yourself. “Ji, you—” you started, but your voice faltered as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite place.
“I don’t bite,” he teased softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Unless you want me to.”
You swallowed hard, unable to keep the smile off your face as you met his gaze. There was a mixture of playfulness and something else in his eyes, something deeper, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
“And what if I do want you to?”
“Well, then I guess you’ll have to let me know.”
You shivered, your pulse quickening at the closeness of him. “I think you’re already too close,” you teased, trying to pull back, but the railing behind you kept you trapped in place.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice full of quiet amusement, but his hands on the railing tightened, keeping you right where you were. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not until you admit you’re at least a little curious about what comes next.”
The boldness of his words hung in the air, and despite your teasing, your heart was hammering, and the air between you two felt thick with unspoken words. You licked your lips, feeling the pressure of the moment, unable to pull away and unable to deny the electricity running through you.
“Curious, huh?” you murmured, your voice a little breathless now, and you gave him a sly smile. “Maybe you’ve got me slightly curious.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, his lips just brushing against your temple as he whispered, “That’s all I need to know.”
"Ji..." you whispered, your voice trembling just the slightest, barely audible in the stillness. His name felt so natural on your lips, but now it was more than just his name—it was a plea, an invitation.
His eyes softened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze. But then, he leaned in, slowly, almost as if giving you the space to back away, to stop him. But you didn’t move. You didn’t want to.
Ji-yong’s lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could feel the electricity between you two intensifying, crackling in the air. His breath mingled with yours as he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve wanted this for a while now...”
And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours softly at first. The contact sent a shock of warmth through your entire body, and you instinctively leaned into him, your hands reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you slightly closer, and his lips deepened the kiss just enough to send your pulse soaring.
For a moment, everything faded. The crowd downstairs, the loud celebration, the teasing banter—none of it mattered. It was just the two of you, locked in this kiss, and everything else felt like it didn’t exist.
Ji-yong’s lips moved against yours with a gentleness that was almost unexpected, but there was still a hunger, a desire, beneath it all. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in the softest motion. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt as you tried to pull him even closer, if that was even possible.
When he finally pulled away, just enough for both of you to catch your breath, his forehead rested gently against yours. His eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.
“Ji-yong?”
“Yeah?” He opened his eyes again, his own breath hitching in his throat as he took in your beauty once more. “What is it, jagiya?”
“Kiss me.”
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/31746c35b4a7862b228e80d63ca6d4fd/bee41a82677f80fd-7c/s540x810/e306f6e214d2e785ad10bfa703db1add6db93b2d.jpg)
taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy
#kwon jiyong x reader#gdragon x reader#bigbang x reader#bigbang#kwon jiyong#gdragon#kpop#2ne1#cl#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#ao3 writer#kpop x reader#choi seunghyun#daesung#taeyang#minzy#dara#bom
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fic: blue and gold (11/28)
@bucktommyfluffebruary day 11 prompt is double date and my fill is here
calling this part one of three of a micro arc in the overall fic. i'm excited. do i need to raise the rating purely on account of sal's mouth?
tumblr version below
"You look nervous," Evan says as their Uber pulls into a parking spot outside of the restaurant. "Why do you look nervous?"
"I'm not nervous," Tommy lies automatically. "Okay, no. Sal can be…a lot."
"Yeah? You sure it's not just that he's known you longer than anyone you still speak to?"
Smartass, Tommy thinks fondly, but he's not wrong. "Hey, now. I speak to my mom."
Evan rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, straightening his shirt. For all that he's giving Tommy shit about being nervous, he has the look of a man who's changed his outfit several times before settling on the dark slacks and the nicely fitting dark denim shirt. Tommy's weirdly touched that he put so much effort into dinner with Tommy's asshole best friend and his asshole best friend's actual angel in human form of a wife.
Sal and Gina are already inside, a bottle of wine on the table between them and missing at least a couple of glasses.
"They go hard on nights without the kids," Tommy tells Evan as they walk over to join Sal and Gina, who are already standing to greet them.
"Tommy!" Gina claims him first in a hug, before she hands him off to Sal who punches him in the shoulder. "And the mysterious Evan."
"Mysterious, huh?" Evan asks, shooting Tommy a look.
"Just been trying to protect you from Sal," Tommy jokes. "And unfortunately that means depriving you of Gina."
Evan laughs. "Call me Buck," he says, kissing Gina's cheek and shaking Sal's hand. In the split second that leaves them, Gina shoots Tommy a wide eyed look and a double thumbs up. Tommy bites his tongue and pulls Gina into another hug.
"So much hotter than the last one," she hisses into his ear.
"Yep," Tommy agrees happily.
"Don't listen to this asshole," Sal is saying, pulling Evan into a seat. "Whatever he told you is bullshit, we're fuckin' delightful."
"I've only heard good things," Evan says, adding after a miniscule pause, "About Gina."
Oh, this is going to be fine, Tommy thinks to himself.
Two hours later, they're finishing their third bottle of wine, and Tommy's regretting everything. Evan and Gina are falling all over themselves laughing at Sal's dramatic reenactment of Tommy's top ten humiliating probie moments.
"Come on," Tommy protests. "You've heard all these stories before," he says, pointing at Gina. "And you're supposed to be on my side," pointing at Evan.
"Yeah but babe - babe," Evan protests, wiping his eyes. "You had mud in your ears."
"Pal, he had mud in worse places than that," Sal promises.
"Oh my god," Tommy grumbles and helps himself to the last of the wine. As Evan pitches sideways to muffle laughter in Sal's shoulder Tommy lifts his glass to his mouth and pretends he's drinking out of irritation rather than to hide the smile he can't hold back as these two parts of his life fit together with an almost audible click.
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When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Hyung Line
ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader
ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst
ᑉ³warnings; none I think!
ᑉ³authors note; I hope you enjoy <3
╰┈➤ Chan
Tries to be the mature one, but it kills him inside. He tells himself that as long as you’re happy, he should be happy too…but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest every time you pull away.
Overthinks everything. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something to make you uncomfortable? He replays every conversation in his head, searching for a reason why you’re slipping away.
Still checks up on you, even when you don’t respond right away. Sends casual “Hope you’re doing okay” texts or reminds you to eat and rest..because no matter how much it hurts, he can’t stop caring about you.
Pretends to be fine around the others, but they can tell. He still smiles, still jokes around, but his energy is off. The sparkle in his eyes when he talks about you? Gone.
Tries to convince himself that he’s just your friend…but jealousy betrays him. Seeing you with someone else makes his stomach twist in ways he hates. He laughs it off, but deep down, he’s unraveling.
"Right. I get it." His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something almost bitter. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s holding back.
"You’re happy with them, huh?" He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "That’s good. That’s… that’s what I wanted for you."
You open your mouth to respond, but he exhales sharply, shaking his head.
"No, actually….screw that." He suddenly looks at you, and for the first time, you see it. The frustration. The heartbreak. The feelings he’s been shoving down for who knows how long.
"I hate this," he admits, voice quieter now. "I hate watching you slip away because of some guy...do you even realize how much I care about you?"
He lets out a soft, bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I thought we had something. And maybe that was just me being stupid, maybe I was reading too much into things—but I…" He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line.
Then, barely above a whisper—
"I was supposed to be the one making you smile like that."
╰┈➤ Minho
Acts like he doesn’t care…but he definitely cares. At first, he just observes, waiting to see if you’ll come back on your own. But when you keep pulling away, he starts getting annoyed.
Gets passive-aggressive. His usual teasing turns sharper. If you cancel plans, he just shrugs and says, “Figured you’d be too busy anyway.”
Refuses to ask what’s wrong. He’s stubborn. If you want to push him away, fine. He won’t beg for your attention—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
His eyes always give him away. Even when he plays it cool, you can see the way his gaze lingers, the way his expression darkens whenever your S/O is mentioned.
Starts distancing himself before you can fully leave him behind. If you don’t need him anymore, then maybe it’s easier if he’s the one to walk away first.
Finally snaps when he catches you avoiding him. If you won’t give him an explanation, he’ll demand one.
"So, am I just not important to you anymore?" The words hit you like a slap, and when you turn to face him, he is standing there,arms crossed, face blank, but eyes burning.
"Because that’s what it feels like," he continues, voice quieter but laced with frustration. "One second, we’re fine. And then suddenly, you’re too busy, too distant....too… gone."
You stammer, trying to explain, but he lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.
"Yeah, whatever. You’ve got someone better now, right?"
His tone is mocking, but there’s a crack in it...just enough to betray him. Just enough to show that this isn’t just annoyance.
It’s hurt.
He turns to leave, but then
He stops. His fists clench at his sides. He doesn’t face you when he speaks next, voice barely above a whisper.
"I liked you first."
Your breath catches.
"You know that, right?" he finally looks at you, expression unreadable but eyes raw with emotion. "I’ve liked you for so long, but I waited. I waited because I thought… I thought maybe you’d see me, too."
A pause. A breath. Then—
"And now, I have to sit here and watch someone else have you?"
His voice is tight, controlled, but the pain is there. He takes a step back, shaking his head, his usual confidence gone.
"Forget it."
╰┈➤ Changbin
At first, he doesn’t take it seriously. He jokes around, playfully whining about how you’re ditching him for your “new best friend.” But when he realizes it’s not a phase, his smile starts feeling forced.
Keeps trying to reach out. Sends you funny memes, random gym updates, or voice notes just to see if you’ll respond like you used to. When you don’t? Yeah, it stings.
Overcompensates by acting louder and happier around others. He hates feeling like the sad, jealous guy, so he pretends it doesn’t bother him. But his jokes get a little sharper, his laughs a little less genuine.
Starts working out even more. If he can’t control the way you’re slipping away, at least he can control something. He pushes himself harder at the gym, but no amount of training can distract him from missing you.
Gets mad at himself for feeling jealous. He tells himself he should just be happy for you...but the thought of someone else being the reason for your smile makes his stomach churn.
"Are you serious right now?"
His voice is sharp, frustrated.
"I get it, okay? You have someone new in your life. That’s great. But does that mean I just—what? Stop existing?"
You open your mouth to explain, but he doesn’t let you.
"Do you know how stupid I’ve felt? Sitting here, waiting for you to text back, waiting for you to just—acknowledge me?" He lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "I’ve never had to fight this hard just to talk to you." He sighs.
"And I hate that I’m jealous." The words come out softer, but they hit harder. His jaw clenches, and for once, Changbin looks uncertain.
"I hate that I care this much. That every time you talk about them, I feel like I’m losing you a little more." He swallows hard, eyes meeting to yours.
"I wanted to be the one you looked at like that." He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"Forget it. Just… just tell me one thing.." his voice wavers, but he keeps going, "Did I ever even have a chance?"
╰┈➤ Hyunjin
At first, he pretends it doesn’t bother him. He convinces himself you’re just busy and that things will go back to normal soon. But as days turn into weeks, the distance between you feels crushing.
Becomes unusually quiet around you. He still smiles, still laughs, but there’s a hesitation now. A pause before he speaks, like he’s choosing his words carefully...afraid of saying something he can’t take back.
Starts expressing his emotions through art instead. If you won’t talk to him, his sketchbook becomes his outlet. Page after page filled with drawings of you, his way of holding on when he feels like he’s losing you.
Acts like he’s fine, but his eyes give him away. Whenever you mention your S/O, his eyes tell you everything you need to know....sadness, frustration, something he doesn’t want you to see.
Becomes distant, too—but not because he wants to. If you don’t need him anymore, maybe it’s better if he stops clinging. But every time he tries to walk away, he finds himself waiting. Hoping.
"Just tell me what I did wrong."
His voice is quiet but firm, and when you finally look at him, Hyunjin’s expression is unreadable...except for his eyes. His eyes are full of everything.
"Because I don’t get it," he continues, laughing bitterly. "We were fine, and then suddenly, you’re too busy, like I don’t even exist to you anymore."
You shift uncomfortably, but he steps closer, shaking his head.
"You don’t even look at me the same."
His voice wavers, and for the first time, you see it..The vulnerability, the pain he’s been trying so hard to hide.
"I should be happy for you," he admits, exhaling shakily. "I tried to be happy for you." He lets out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "But every time I see you with them, I just—"
He stops himself, his lips pressing into a thin line. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a slow breath, taking a step back.
"I guess that was never an option, was it?"
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The Edge of the Sky
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Sister!Reader
Summary: Growing up with Rooster and Hangman, you never imagined that one day, the cocky, insufferable pilot would be the one to turn your world upside down. As the three of you push yourselves to the limits in the Top Gun program, old rivalries and new emotions collide. When a near-disastrous accident forces you to confront feelings you never saw coming, you’re left wondering: has the man you spent your whole life rolling your eyes at been the one all along?
The heat of the San Diego sun bore down on you as you leaned back on your hands, watching the Top Gun squad argue over whose fault it was that their last play had gone to hell. A volleyball spun lazily in the air before bouncing onto the sand near your feet. You could already see the smug look on Hangman’s face before you even glanced up.
"Well, well, well," Hangman drawled, stepping closer, hands on his hips. "If it isn’t Rooster’s little sister, here to grace us with her overwhelming lack of athletic ability."
You rolled your eyes, tossing the ball back to him. "I’m not the one who just got spiked on by Phoenix."
Phoenix smirked as she dusted sand off her hands. "Damn right he did."
Hangman caught the ball effortlessly and twirled it on his finger. "That was a tactical error. I was busy strategizing."
Rooster scoffed. "Yeah? Strategizing how to lose?"
"That’s funny, Bradshaw. Remind me, who’s winning again?" Hangman gestured at the scoreboard scratched into the sand. His team was up by four points, but if you had to guess, it wasn’t the game that mattered—it was the bragging rights.
You smirked, shaking your head at their antics, before standing and dusting sand off your legs. "Alright, boys, keep measuring whatever it is you’re measuring. Some of us need water before we die of heat stroke."
As you walked off toward the cooler, you felt Hangman’s eyes on you. You were used to it—he’d always been Rooster’s cocky, infuriating friend, the guy you’d grown up rolling your eyes at. But lately, there was something different about the way he looked at you. Maybe you were imagining it. Maybe not. Either way, you refused to give it another thought.
Training was brutal the next morning. Maverick was running you all ragged, pushing the limits of your speed and endurance in the air. You and Hangman had been paired for dogfighting drills, which meant you spent most of your time cursing his name as he pulled impossible maneuvers that left you struggling to keep up.
"Damn it, Hangman!" you hissed through the comms as he cut in front of you with zero warning. "A little heads-up next time?"
His laugh crackled through your earpiece. "Where’s the fun in that?"
You ground your teeth, banking hard to the right. The two of you went at it, testing the limits of your jets and your patience, until Maverick finally called for a break. When you landed, you barely made it five steps before Rooster was in your face, arms crossed.
"You realize you’re playing right into his hands, right?" Rooster said, jabbing a finger at your chest. "He loves getting under your skin. It’s his favorite hobby."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, well, unfortunately, I have better things to do than worry about Hangman’s hobbies."
"Do you?" Rooster asked, skeptical. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s got you on edge."
You waved him off. "You’re imagining things."
But Rooster wasn’t done. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Just... be careful, alright? Hangman’s a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of guy who—"
"I know exactly what kind of guy he is," you interrupted. "And trust me, I’m not interested."
Rooster gave you a long, knowing look before shaking his head. "If you say so."
A week later, everything changed.
It was supposed to be a standard training run. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then, in the blink of an eye, Hangman’s jet stalled.
"Eject, eject!" Maverick’s voice rang through the comms as Hangman’s jet spiraled. You felt your stomach drop.
And then, the parachute deployed. Hangman drifted down, landing hard in the desert just outside the airstrip. You were out of your jet before you even registered moving, sprinting toward the medics loading him onto a stretcher.
"Move!" you barked at one of the techs, shoving past them until you were at Hangman’s side. He groaned, wincing as he blinked up at you.
"Well, would you look at that," he murmured, voice rough but teasing. "Didn’t know you cared, darlin’."
Your heart was in your throat. "Shut up, Seresin."
But he just smirked. "You’re holding my hand, sweetheart."
You looked down. Sure enough, your fingers were wrapped tightly around his. You snatched your hand back as if burned, face flushing.
Rooster appeared at your side, arms crossed. "Huh. That’s an interesting reaction."
"Oh, screw you," you snapped, spinning on your heel and marching away before either of them could see the panic on your face.
Hangman, from his place on the stretcher, just grinned. "I think she likes me."
Rooster scowled. "Don’t push your luck."
The Hard Deck was packed that night, the bar alive with laughter and music as the squad gathered to celebrate Hangman getting cleared. The moment he walked in, the cheers went up, and he grinned like he owned the place.
Hangman raised his arms, basking in the applause. "Damn, feels good to be back! Miss me that much?" he called out, flashing his signature smirk as the squad clapped him on the back and pulled him into hugs. "Don't worry, your favorite pilot is still in one piece."
You were already at the bar, sipping your drink when he sauntered over, leaning against the counter beside you. "Didn’t think I’d see you over here all by your lonesome."
You smirked, not looking at him. "Figured I’d take a break from the testosterone overload."
He chuckled, ordering a drink before turning to face you fully. "So, about earlier—"
"Not happening," you cut in quickly, taking another sip.
He tilted his head, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I think it is."
You finally met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn’t see just the cocky pilot who had been in your life for years. You saw something else—something dangerous, something tempting.
Your voice was quieter when you spoke. "What if it is?"
Hangman didn't hesitate. "Then I guess it's time I finally say it—you're the woman of my dreams."
You blinked, caught off guard by his directness, your heart hammering against your ribs. Before you could overthink it, before Rooster could interrupt with some snide remark, you reached up, grabbed the collar of his flight suit, and kissed him.
The bar erupted in cheers, the squad whooping and clapping, pounding on tables like they’d been waiting for this moment all along.
When you pulled back, Hangman smirked down at you, a little breathless. "Shoulda done that a long time ago, sweetheart."
Rooster, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, let out a long, suffering sigh. "If you break her heart, Hangman, I’ll break your face."
Hangman only grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Not a chance, Bradshaw."
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