#but then once loop says “some are in different places” or whatever
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just a boy —



pairing : fuckboy!jay x gn!reader
summary : you meet jay at a party where you reject him after making a move… he likes it when they play hard to get.
warnings : angst, fluff, more angst than fluff tbh, uni au, reader is a freshman, jay is older, featuring heeseung + jake, jisung from nct, and minju from illit
a/n : omg fun to write is actually an understatement. i hope it turned out fun to read :) also for my pookie @writhyv
queueing : just a boy - alaina castillo,
— wc : 6.6 — not proof read —
you don't really care about parties. they're loud, crowded, and always filled with people trying too hard. but minju drags you along anyway, insisting that you need to "experience the university nightlife" at least once.
"come on, it'll be fun," she says, looping her arm through yours. "plus, jisung bailed on me, and i am not third-wheeling jake and his situationship all night."
so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.
"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.
you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.
flirt. player. fuckboy.
minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."
but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.
jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.
"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.
you shrug. "not really."
he chuckles. "then why are you here?"
"minju."
his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"
"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.
"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.
"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"
it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.
but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."
his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."
"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed
he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.
"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.
"i'm good."
"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"
"should i?"
he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."
"well, i'm not most people."
jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.
"i like you," he says suddenly.
you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."
"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."
there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.
"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.
you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.
for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.
—
you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.
but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.
it starts with small things.
you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.
"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.
you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."
"what are you getting?"
you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."
"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."
you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"
jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."
"so basically, you're guessing."
"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."
"no, thanks."
he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"
"nope."
instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.
he chuckles. "so i was way off."
"yup."
you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.
it keeps happening.
and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.
"you always look so serious," jay muses.
you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."
"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"
"nope."
"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."
you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"
jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."
"i think you’ll survive without it."
he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."
"you’ll live."
jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."
"making what difficult?"
"getting to know you."
"who said i wanted you to?"
he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.
"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."
before you can process his words, he's already walking away.
"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.
"what do you mean?"
she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."
"it's just a coincidence."
"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."
"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"
"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."
"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."
"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"
you snort. "no."
"not even a little?"
"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."
"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."
you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."
"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"
"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”
but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.
"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"
jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."
jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."
"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."
heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"
jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.
"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."
and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.
whether you want to or not.
—
you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.
first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.
"you stalking me now?" he teases.
you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."
"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."
you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."
you frown. "what is this?"
"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."
"i don't want it."
jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"
"i don’t like you."
he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."
you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"
unfortunately, he’s right.
the second time, it’s the library.
you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.
you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"
jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."
"do you even study?"
"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.
you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.
but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"
"yes."
"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.
you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"
"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"
"you haven’t typed a single word."
jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."
"about what?"
"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."
you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."
"where you going?"
"somewhere quiet."
jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.
you think that’s the end of it.
until your professor assigns a group project.
"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."
you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.
park jongseong.
"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.
"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."
you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.
"who’d you get?"
you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.
"jay," minju answers for you.
jisung grimaces. "yikes."
"yep."
before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.
"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.
you sigh. "don’t remind me.”
—
working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.
you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.
turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.
you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.
"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.
jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."
you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"
"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."
"i think that’s just your problem."
jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."
"we’re working."
"same thing."
you shake your head, but you don’t argue.
slowly, things shift.
you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.
like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.
"tired?" he asks.
"obviously."
without a word, he slides his drink toward you.
you blink. "what—"
"it’s an americano," he says simply.
you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."
jay shrugs. "i like sugar."
you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."
he grins. "guess so."
you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.
—
"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.
minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"
"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."
minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."
"how what starts?"
"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."
"i’m not catching anything."
she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."
you nod, but her words stick in your head.
you tell yourself you don’t care.
but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.
"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."
you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"
jay smirks. "i could be."
"no thanks."
"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."
"you don’t have to."
"i know."
you sigh, but you let him.
the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.
"this is me," you say.
jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."
"guess so."
he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.
you blink. "what the—"
he just grins. "goodnight."
then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.
this is bad.
really bad.
—
the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.
well. you do.
minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”
so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.
until you see him.
jay.
you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.
he fits right in.
too well.
you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.
he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.
your stomach twists.
it’s stupid. so, so stupid.
this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.
but tonight, it bothers you.
you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.
"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.
"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."
she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"
you nod. "yeah."
but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.
"hey," a familiar voice says.
you turn, and there he is.
jay.
his smirk is gone.
"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.
he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"
"no."
he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"
minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.
you cross your arms. "what?"
jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"
you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.
the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.
you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"
jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."
you scoff. "why do you care?"
"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."
you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"
his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."
"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."
"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."
your breath catches.
different.
he said it first.
but that doesn’t change anything.
"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."
jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."
"that’s not making this better."
"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."
he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."
you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"
jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.
"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."
the words knock the air out of your lungs.
for a moment, neither of you speak.
then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"
"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."
you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.
this is dangerous territory.
you should walk away.
you don’t.
but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.
"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."
jay flinches.
"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."
"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."
jay opens his mouth, then closes it.
"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"
"yes," jay says, without hesitation.
you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"
he doesn’t have an answer for that.
silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.
jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.
"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.
"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.
you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."
jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.
but you step back.
his hand drops.
and with that, you turn around and walk away.
jay doesn’t call after you.
he doesn’t chase you this time.
and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.
—
you avoid him.
it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.
the only problem is that jay notices.
you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.
you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.
he doesn’t chase after you.
but he’s not ignoring it, either.
and that’s what makes it worse.
it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.
and that terrifies you.
so you run faster.
"okay, what is wrong with you?"
jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."
"bullshit."
heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.
"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."
jay glares. "admit what?"
heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."
jay scoffs. "about what?"
"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"
jay clenches his jaw. "neither."
heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.
"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"
"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.
heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"
jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.
fuck.
he doesn’t know what this is.
he just knows that it sucks.
he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.
but this?
this feels different.
it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.
"you don’t even like people," jake points out.
jay sighs. "i like you guys."
"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."
jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.
then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."
jay doesn’t answer.
"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.
jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.
he doesn’t know.
but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.
not anymore.
—
you don’t know why you look.
it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.
and then you see him.
jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.
there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.
and jay?
jay just smiles.
it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.
because he has.
your chest tightens.
"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.
you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.
you knew he was never meant to be serious.
so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?
"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."
minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.
you don’t look back.
and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.
yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.
he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.
it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.
at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.
but the shift is undeniable.
before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.
now?
nothing.
he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.
he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.
he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.
but then you turn away.
like he’s not even there.
he doesn’t plan to confront you.
but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.
he doesn’t even know why he’s here.
it’s not like you owe him anything.
but still, he knocks.
no answer.
he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.
then, he hears footsteps.
"what are you doing here?"
jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.
"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."
jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"
jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"
jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.
jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"
"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."
jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.
"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."
jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"
"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."
jay clenches his jaw.
fuck.
he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.
but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—
he understands.
and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.
"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."
jay doesn’t answer.
because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.
he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.
and he has no idea how to fix it.
but he knows one thing—
he has to try.
—
you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.
it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.
but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.
jay.
leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.
your heart stutters.
you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.
"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.
fuck jisung for letting him in.
"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.
but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.
"please," he says.
you freeze.
he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.
slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"
"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.
you press your lips together but nod.
jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."
"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."
jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."
you cross your arms. "then what?"
he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."
your breath catches.
"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."
you shake your head. "jay—"
"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."
your chest tightens.
"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"
jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."
it’s too much.
too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.
"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"
jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."
your pulse is loud in your ears.
"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."
he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.
you shouldn’t.
you should walk away.
you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.
but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.
"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.
jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.
and against all logic, all reason—you fall.
before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.
his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.
jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.
and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.
—
your relationship with jay park is different.
you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.
never expected him to try so hard.
at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.
but with you?
he wants to be better. he wants to be different.
so he does things he’s never done before.
he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.
"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.
you blink. "uh… yeah?"
jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."
he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.
you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"
he hesitates.
you raise an eyebrow. "jay."
he clears his throat. "…no."
you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.
the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.
you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.
then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.
your heart stutters.
you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.
you bite your lip.
then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.
jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.
he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.
he’s not used to jealousy.
or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.
he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.
but now?
now he understands.
he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.
and jay hates it.
he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.
"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.
your eyes widen. "jay?"
"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.
the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."
jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."
you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.
once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"
jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."
you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"
he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."
your breath catches.
"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"
you stare at him for a moment.
then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.
"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."
jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."
heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.
"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.
"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."
jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.
"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.
jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."
"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.
jake gasps. "you think he—"
"shut up," jay groans.
you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"
jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."
you grin. "you love me."
jay rolls his eyes.
but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.
and you know—
even if he’ll never admit it out loud—
he really does.
—
you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.
maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.
or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.
or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.
because it’s different now.
jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.
"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"
you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.
jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"
"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."
"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.
"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.
jay huffs. "whatever, man."
but he doesn’t deny it.
heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"
jay opens his mouth—
"me, obviously," you interrupt.
jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"
you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."
jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."
jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.
you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”
heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."
"what day?" you ask, amused.
"the day jay park became a simp."
jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."
you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."
he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.
"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."
—
later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.
he doesn’t leave right away.
instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.
you tilt your head. "what?"
jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.
"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."
your chest tightens.
"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."
he finally meets your gaze.
"but now i do."
your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.
"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."
you swallow. "jay—"
"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don’t deserve you."
his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.
"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."
for a moment, neither of you speak.
then, finally—
you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."
jay blinks. "huh?"
you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.
"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.
jay’s breath stutters.
then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.
"yeah?" he whispers.
you nod. "yeah."
jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.
"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."
you smile against his shoulder.
neither could you.
#kaiyunsim#kpop x reader#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#kpop x gn reader#kpop x gender neutral reader#kpop fluff#kpop angst#enhypen angt#jay x reader#jay park x reader#jay x gn reader#enhypen x gn reader#enhypen jay x reader#enhypen jay fluff#jay fluff#jay angst#enhypen jay angst#enhypen angst#park jongseong
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Until the Last Loop: Familiar Faces
(Days spent with them making new memories- a silent attempt at forging a new life before it will be ripped away once more)
Poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader
Part One
The castle breathed with life and the scent of burning tallow, but to you, it might as well have been a tomb. Its towering walls and narrow corridors, carved from cold stone and lined with faded tapestries, had grown too familiar over the cycles- prisons that wore different faces but caged you all the same, and you were the bird locked within it each life, merely with different feather each time.
You sung the same melody, regardless. A melody that would soon be snuffed out.
You moved through the halls like a shadow, your impending doom hanging over you like clock that never stopped ticking until its last moments. Servants parted for you without meeting your gaze, and although whispers followed in your wake, they no longer stung the way they once had. You had long since grown used to the weight of their words, their gazes full of pity and disdain. They had become just another layer of the endless loop, a reflection of your precarious standing with the royal lineage.
But the men- the four who trailed in your footsteps, sent by your father to report all your moves back to him with the excuse of protecting you- were different.
They were a presence you couldn’t shake, no matter how many lifetimes passed. Always close, always steady, their shadows filled the empty spaces others left behind. And unlike the others, they weren’t afraid to look at you.
In some lives, you despised them. What comfort could four men give you when all you wanted was your father’s love? Your people’s adoration? Friends your age? None whatsoever.
In other lives, you had been distant. You kept them at arms’ length, unwilling to even converse with them. They were of no use to your desperation to free yourself from this cursed cycle.
You’ve lost count of how many loops you’ve gone through. Even now, you do not know how it started; who started it. A cruel curse, that’s what it was, and you were its constant victim. It was inevitable, so why… keep away the only people willing to be near you?
And so this time, you let them close.
Soap was the first to slip past your walls, an unsurprising fact.
It was late when you found yourself sitting in the gardens, the air sharp with the chill of night. The roses were dying, their petals curling inward as frost crept along the edges, and you wondered- just for a moment- how many times you had seen them bloom and wither like this.
Too many times.
You were alone with him; no maid or lady-in-waiting was willing to accompany you, though rather than saying that, they jusy boldly lied and said they had prior arrangements to the king.
The king. Your father. It was always him. You wished he’d hate you a little less, just enough to not rob you of the care you’ll always long for like a child stumbling through the cold for a flicker of fire, of warmth.
Wistful dreams.
Soap sat down beside you without invitation, though his presence didn’t feel unwelcome. His easy smile was softer in the moonlight, and when he offered you his cloak, you didn’t refuse it.
“You look like you’re waitin’ for somethin’,” he said, voice low but steady, starting the conversation. By now, they’ve come to understand that you are… so different from whatever everyone said of you. You were quiet, your presence squeezed and molded into a tiny nook of the castle so easy to forget.
You didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch. The words came slower, heavier now- weighted by too many winters and too many deaths.
“I think it’s waiting for me,” you breathed out, fingers brushing the edge of the cloak. The flowers fluttered when a breeze blew by, bending in the directionaway from you; they pitied you, too, for not even they’d be placed upon your grave once you were dead. “… My end, I mean.”
Soap didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to deny it, either. He did not have any loyalty to the king or keeping his secrets; no mercenary would bother even if they’d lifk the king’s hand for his gold and coins.
Snakes, all of them. And yet- they were the ones who got to live, so the last laugh was theirs.
“Well,” he said instead, leaning back on his palms, “if it comes knockin’, ye just let me know. I’ll handle it.”
You almost smiled. Almost.
Soap didn’t leave right after that, like you expected.
He stayed, stretched out beside you on the stone bench like he had nowhere better to be, his broad shoulders relaxed but his eyes sharp as they roamed the shadows pooling in the corners of the garden. The scent of dying roses lingered in the air, sweet and cloying, and you wondered if he noticed the way your hands trembled when you smoothed the cloak over your lap.
If he did, he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he tilted his head back and gazed at the stars, his voice softer when he spoke again.
“Ye know, my mum used to say the stars are just folk lookin’ down on us,” he said, accent curling thick around the words. “Watchin’, guidin’… makin’ sure we dinna wander too far off the path.”
You blinked at him. “And what if the path leads… nowhere?”
Soap turned his head to look at you then, eyes dark. “Then ye make yer own.”
It was such an earnest thing to say, so full of conviction that it made something in your chest twist painfully. You couldn’t tell him how many times you’d tried to do just that- tried to fight and claw your way toward a different ending, only to be dragged back to the start again.
Soap didn’t know. None of them did.
And yet, as you sat there with his warmth seeping through the cloak and his words lingering in the air like a promise, you found yourself wishing- just for a moment- that he was right.
That you could carve your way out of this nightmare and leave the endless cycle behind.
But that was foolish.
So instead, you leaned back against the bench and let your eyes drift shut, pretending not to notice the way Soap’s hand hovered near the dagger at his side, ready to draw at the first sign of danger.
Pretending you didn’t feel safer for it.
Ghost was harder to pin down. He lingered on the edges, silent as your grave, but his presence was impossible to ignore.
When the nightmares came- and they always did, another constant- you found him at your door. He never asked questions, never pried. He simply stood guard, silent, until the trembling stopped.
One night, when sleep refused to come after a day of listening to awful, false whispers of you, you found yourself seated on the rug in front of the hearth, staring into the flames. Ghost leaned against the wall, his mask a stark contrast against the flickering light.
“They won’t hurt you.” He said suddenly, rough and low.
You didn’t look at him. You watched the flickering fire, and was rewarded with whispers of the lives where you’d been burned at the stake. “They always do.”
“They won’t.”
And maybe it was foolish, but for once, you almost believed him.
You pulled your knees closer to your chest, eyes fixed on the flames as if they could burn away the memories pressing in from all sides.
Ghost didn’t move from his place against the wall. He was a silhouette in the firelight, broad shoulders and sharp angles, the hollow black of his mask turning him into something almost otherworldly.
You didn’t ask why he was there. He never explained himself, and you never pushed.
After a while, he broke the silence again.
“They’re scared of you.”
His voice was quiet, still rough like gravel, but it cut through the room as sharply as any blade.
You swallowed, your gaze still locked on the fire. You couldn’t look away. “No. They hate me.”
Ghost didn’t argue. He let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving you.
You weren’t sure why that bothered you more than words would have.
“They’re scared,” he repeated finally, slower this time. Firmer. “And scared people do stupid things.”
You let out a short, bitter laugh. “Like cutting off my head?”
Ghost tilted his head, and something about the way he looked at you made your chest tighten.
“They won’t get the chance, princess.” He said, and there was something cold in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.
You turned to face him then, finally meeting his gaze. Or at least, what you thought was his gaze beneath the mask. It was impossible to tell, but you felt it- heavy, unflinching.
“You can’t stop it, Ghost.”
Ghost didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. “Watch me.”
The words shouldn’t have meant anything. They shouldn’t have mattered when you already knew how this would end- how it always ended. Those words were treacherous to whatever the king wanted and expected of him.
But as the fire crackled and the shadows danced along the walls, you let yourself believe him. Just for a little while.
Because Ghost wasn’t the kind of man who made promises.
And yet, when he spoke, it sounded like one.
… yet you knew, not all promises can be kept.
Gaz was gentler than the others. Thoughtful. Attentive in a way that made your chest ache, because it had been so long since anyone had looked at you without seeing the stain on your birthright first and you second.
He helped you practice with a dagger one afternoon, though you both knew it wouldn’t be of much use to you. The sharp clang of metal rang out against the training yard walls as he corrected your grip, his hands warm against yours.
When was the last time you’d been held like that?
Far too long ago. Far too many lives ago.
“Careful,” he said, guiding the blade down in a smooth arc. “Keep your stance steady.”
You frowned. “What does it matter?”
Gaz tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
And wasn’t that the cruelest part? That no matter how many times you died, you always woke up again?
You didn’t answer, and Gaz didn’t press. Instead, he let you lean into him when the weight of it all grew too heavy, when the weight of more than just the training pressed down on you.
Gaz stayed close after that- close enough that you started to notice the small things.
The way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than they should, watching for signs of exhaustion or the fear you tried so hard to hide. The way his touch was always secure but never overbearing, grounding you without demanding more than you were willing to give.
He made you feel… safe.
It was dangerous.
Foolish.
But you let him stay anyway. You stayed with him anyway.
The dagger gleamed in the sunlight as you practiced another strike, the blade slicing cleanly through the air. Gaz nodded approvingly, stepping back just enough to give you space, though his presence was still a solid weight at your side.
“Better,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “You’re getting the hang of it, princess. Maybe you’ll give us a run of our money, eh?”
You lowered the blade, breathing hard as you wiped the sweat from your brow. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be humorous “I’m not sure it’ll matter in the end.”
Gaz frowned at that, stepping closer. “Don’t say that.”
You almost laughed. Almost. “You don’t understand.”
His hand came up then, gentle as he tilted your chin to face him. The look in his eyes knocked the breath from your lungs- steady and sure, like he was trying to hold you together with sheer force of will.
“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted, voice low. ���But I do know this- every time you get back up, it matters.”
You didn’t realize you were trembling until his hand dropped to your shoulder, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.
“Don’t give up yet, princess,” he murmured, softer now. “Not on yourself.”
It was almost too much. Too kind. Too hopeful.
You wanted to tell him that hope had no place here- not in this endless loop of death and betrayal and grief. Not in this damned castle- but the words wouldn’t come, caught in your throat like fish in a net.
So instead, you let him take the dagger from your hands, let him press it back into its sheath before leading you toward the shade of the courtyard’s edge.
And when he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, you didn’t pull away.
Because for once, it didn’t feel like a burden to be seen.
Price was the hardest to read.
He was steady, commanding- his presence filled the room like the smoke of chimneys, lingering long after he was gone. He carried himself like a man who had seen too much and lost too many, and sometimes, when he looked at you, you thought you saw the ghost of something more.
He didn’t speak often, but when he did, his words stayed with you.
“Do you ever wonder, princess,” he asked one evening, standing by the window with a wooden cup of mead in his hand. You didn’t know how he’d even snuck it in, but you weren’t going to snitch. “if we’re all just pieces on your father’s board?”
You blinked at him, startled by the sudden question.
“All the time.” You said.
His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, and there was something unreadable in it.
You wanted to ask what he meant, why the sudden question, but he turned away before you could, leaving you to sit and stew with the thought.
And stew you did.
Because Price wasn’t wrong, was he?
You already knew your father had lied- about these mercenaries, their orders, everything.
They weren’t here to protect you. Not really.
No knights would take you, no nobles wanted you, and no one in the kingdom would lay down their sword for a bastard-born princess whose only crime was existing. Yet here they were, these hardened men, mercenaries paid in coin and silence, assigned to watch your every move.
Not guard you. Watch you.
Keep you until the day you were dragged to your death once more.
You’d known it the moment Price first stepped through your door, his eyes sweeping the room like he was cataloging exits instead of protecting them. The others were subtler- Soap with his easy charm, Ghost with his patient silence, Gaz with his careful words- but Price?
Price didn’t even try to hide it.
And maybe that was the worst part.
Because he didn’t look at you the way others did. He didn’t sneer, didn’t pity, didn’t hate. He looked at you like he was waiting.
Waiting for what?
For you to run? To slip up? To hand him the excuse he needed to drag you before your father in chains, so he could take the money and leave?
The thought made your stomach twist.
Because no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter- that the loop would end and begin again, and none of this would last- it still sank its claws into you.
And the next time Price caught you watching him from across the room, you didn’t look away.
Not at first.
He held your gaze, steady and unreadable, but there was no malice in it- no sharp edges or hidden teeth. Just something quiet. Something that almost felt like understanding.
When you finally turned away, you expected the weight of it to linger, to drag down your shoulders and settle in your chest like an unwelcome puff of smoke.
But it didn’t.
Instead, you felt the faintest flicker of warmth- barely there, fleeting as a dying ember- and hated how much you wanted to hold onto it.
Days turned to nights, and the hours slipped away like sand through your fingers. The loop pressed closer with every tick of the clock, and yet…
You didn’t feel so alone this time.
They were there- in the quiet moments, in the chaos, in the shadows of your worst fears- and though you knew it wouldn’t save you, you still let them stay.
Because this time, you didn’t have the strength to keep them away.
This time, you… wanted to have fond memories before your death.
Masterlist | Part Three
I hope everyone’s been enjoying this so far! Any guesses on why reader is in a time loop and who might be responsible? :3
#noona.writes#this one just escaped me lmao#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#john price x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#poly!141 x reader#gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#poly 141 x you#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#simon ghost riley imagines#john price x you#johnny soap mctavish x you#soap x you#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x you#kyle gaz x reader
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ᴀʀʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ
smut, dom!reader, bratty!chris, teasing, police officer costume, power play, handcuffs, authority kink, tension, edging, light degradation, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), handcuffs, riding
inspired by this request from @oliviaslittlewhore !
word count - 1.3k
Chris doesn't knock. He never does anymore. You’d told him to stop being polite, that your door was always open for him. But tonight, as he steps inside and swings it shut behind him, the air feels different.
Dim lighting. Music playing low from your speaker, something slow, bass-heavy.
And then he sees you.
“Holy shit.”
You’re standing at the far end of the living room, framed by your hallway light. Tight black police officer shirt, half-buttoned. Glossy belt. The hem of your skirt just long enough to leave him wondering. You shift your weight, and the handcuffs on your hip jingle like a warning.
Chris freezes in place. A grin spreads across his face… cocky, wide, his tongue brushing the inside of his cheek.
“You are so unserious,” he laughs, pulling his hoodie off over his head. “What is this, huh? Some kind of Halloween costume? Or are you actually about to read me my rights?”
You cock your head. Step forward, heels clicking softly on the floor.
“You do remember what you said on stream, right?”
He shrugs, but his eyes are glued to the way your hips sway. “I say a lotta things.”
You stop just in front of him, chest to chest. You tug lightly at the ring around his neck, drawing him closer, close enough that your breath brushes his lips.
“You said… and I quote… ‘pull me over.’”
You lean in, lips just shy of touching.
“So here I am.”
Chris laughs, quiet, nervous, defiant.
“Okay, yeah. But you think you can handle me, Officer?”
Your hand snakes around the back of his neck. You tighten your grip just a little, making him tilt his head up to look at you properly. Your other hand grabs his wrist and smoothly snaps a cuff around it before he realises what’s happening.
“Baby,” you say, eyes gleaming, “I’m not here to handle you. I’m here to make you behave.”
The grin falters for just a second.
You lead him backwards with a gentle push, guiding him until the backs of his knees hit the edge of your couch. He falls back, half laughing, half breathless.
“You’re really doing this, huh?”
You straddle him, hips settling in his lap like you were built to fit there. He shifts under you—already half-hard, already testing you.
“Tell me, Chris,” you purr, dragging your nails along the side of his jaw, “do you want me to be nice? Or do you want me to make you earn it?”
He’s looking up at you like you’ve hung the moon. And still, still, he smirks.
“Guess I’ll have to misbehave and find out.”
You raise your eyebrows. Oh. So that’s how he wants to play it.
“Fine,” you whisper, dragging your fingers down his chest. “But don’t start begging later. I don’t do leniency.”
He’s already flushed when you push him down onto the couch, pupils blown wide. That mouth, always so smart, so cocky, parts just slightly when you straddle him again, one knee pressed into the cushion on either side of his hips.
You’re still fully dressed in your little uniform shirt, buttons strained just slightly over your chest. The fake badge catches the light. Chris glances at it, then quickly looks away like it embarrassed him to get caught looking.
“You gonna give me a ticket or something?” he says, breathless, voice tipping toward cocky.
You tug at the chain of the cuffs still looped through his wrist.
“No. I’m gonna give you a reason to shut up.”
Your hips grind down slow, once, just enough to let him feel how warm you are even through his sweats. His whole body reacts, hips bucking, jaw flexing, fingers twitching like he wants to grab your waist.
“Fuck,” he hisses, dropping his head back. “Okay. Okay, I’m shutting up. Officer, ma’am, whatever you want.”
You smirk, fingers sliding under the hem of his hoodie, dragging them up slow. Skin to skin. His stomach twitches when you touch him, and he sucks in a breath when your nails scratch lightly over his ribs.
“Don’t think flattery’s gonna get you leniency,” you murmur, dragging your lips along the edge of his jaw. “You wanted to be arrested, right? Booked and processed? Strip search and everything?”
Chris groans. Loudly.
“Jesus Christ.”
You palm him through his sweats, slow, heavy pressure, and his head falls forward, forehead bumping your collarbone.
“You’re a menace,” he mumbles. “This is actually illegal.”
You laugh, and your other hand tangles in his hair, tugging lightly until he’s looking at you again.
“Then why are you so hard, baby?”
He blinks. You don’t stop stroking. He bites his lip.
“’Cause you look so fuckin’ good, that’s why.”
“Good boy,” you purr. “See? You can say something smart.”
And then you pull the waistband of his sweats down slowly, exposing him completely. He lifts his hips without even thinking about it, obedient like it’s instinct now.
You take your time.
You kiss down his stomach, teasing little touches of tongue at the dip of his hip, the edge of his thigh. You blow cold air across the slick head of his cock and watch him jerk, arms still behind his back, like he’s holding on for dear life.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” he pants.
You look up at him, eyes half-lidded.
“Of course I am.”
When you finally wrap your lips around him, he lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a curse. He’s still trying to act like he’s fine, like he’s got this, but his thighs are shaking, his hands are fisting into your throw pillows, and every time your mouth leaves him, he makes this desperate little noise in the back of his throat.
“Please, fuck. I can’t, please just let me, please,” he groans, practically whispering now.
You pull off with a soft pop and climb back into his lap, wet heat pressing down against him without taking him in yet. Just letting him feel.
“You’ll come when I say,” you tell him, fingers curling into his hair. “Not a second before.”
He nods. He whines.
“Yes, ma’am.”
You finally guide him inside with one slow, perfect grind of your hips, and Chris shudders, hands scrambling for your thighs, like he needs to anchor himself or he’ll lose it entirely.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours, like he’s watching a miracle.
You move slow. You set the pace. You ride him with your hand on his throat, your teeth at his neck, your other palm against his chest to feel his heartbeat stuttering.
He starts to beg again, and you just smirk, leaning close.
“You gonna be a good boy for me now?”
“Yes, yes, I swear, I’ll do whatever. Just don’t stop, don’t stop.”
You kiss him, deep, slow, possessive, while you ride him right to the edge and let him stay there. Just long enough to see him twitch and tremble and bite his lip bloody.
Then finally, when he’s wrecked and gasping and whispering your name like a prayer, you let him come.
“Fill me up, baby.”
He finishes with a strangled groan, hips stuttering up into you, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s trying to disappear inside you completely.
You ride him through it, slow and sweet. Let him breathe. Let him hold you. He kisses your shoulder, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, soft, grateful little kisses that say thank you, thank you, thank you.
And when he finally slumps back into the couch, totally spent, hair stuck to his forehead and eyes half-lidded, he looks up at you with this dazed little smile.
“I’ll never mouth off again ma’am,” he says, voice hoarse.
You run your fingers through his hair and smirk.
“That’d be a shame,” you say. “I liked punishing you.”
Chris groans.
“Don’t say that unless you’re gonna do it again.”
“Oh, baby,” you whisper. “Next time I’m bringing the baton.”
creds to rose for the dividers! @bernardsbendystraws
a/n: shoutout also to @ariestrxsh i've been rereading your sub!pizzaboy!chris and holy fuck. that's it.
main taglist: @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturns-mermaid @shortnsweetsturnz @cowboylikenat @camzeecorner @courta13 @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @shadowthesim237 @emely9274 @sturnberries @bluestriips @lovergirl4gracieabrams @chrisslut04 @tezzzzzzzz @strnilolover @vanteguccir @chrislova @riasturns @sturnsblogs @darksturnz @httpssturns @mi-co-uk @ribbonlovergirl @lovesturni0l0s @grace-sturnz @auttysturnz
#inez ✴︎˚。⋆✿#inez writes ✴︎˚。⋆✿#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#the sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x y/n#christopher sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader
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SKZ Pack Chapter 25



Trigger Warnings: angst, manipulation, aggression, domestic abuse.
Five days they spent in the Alps with Monsta X. Their Head Alpha, Hyunwoo was very hospitable. He made sure everyone was involved. He even showed Chan his security, to make sure no one would get in their compound as Hyunwoo was worried about his mate, Elsie who was scared of other wolves. Y/N learned from speaking to her, that she grew up in a small pack and her pack didn't interact with others. It was only Hyunwoo making a deal with her pack that he found his soul mate there. It was nice for Y/N to hear someone else talking about being a mate and how intense it was as a soulmated omega. "I once lied to Alpha Hyunwoo about a note I received from a crush. It was harmless the boy was seventeen and I ended up spanked relentlessly. Never played up again." Elsie said as they watched the wolves prepare the car to head into the city. "I mean I've risked it twice or thrice," Y/N said as she drank her Bailey's hot chocolate. "You never?!" Elsie gasped. "Oh, she did." Hyunjin teased, as he gave her a quick heated kiss. "Can I ask?" Elsie whispered as they walked around the side of the house so no one could hear them. "Do they get jealous of each other?" "No. I thought perhaps Hyunjin did, but a lot of it is bedroom talk. None of them make jealous comments in general. Why?" Y/N questioned. "Joo sometimes gets jealous of Ki and vice versa. It causes arguments." Elsie said sadly. "Maybe when we leave, call a pack meeting. That might help relieve any tensions in the pack. It will give everyone the freedom to speak. That's what we did. For a different reason of course." Y/N stated.
Before Elsie could respond Chan called them into the car so they could drive off to the city. Changbin and Jeongin were the two most excited whereas Y/N was going to opt out. She was feeling a bit under the weather as she felt Joshua following them again. The last time they went into the city with Elsie she felt him and now she was feeling it again, but she didn't want to say anything. Yes, Y/N knew a bruised ass was coming for her but she wanted to be sure. "Can me and Y/N watch over there? You'll see us. Please, Alpha Woo." Y/N cringed at the name it reminded her of her younger self. "Only if Chan is happy to," Hyunwoo asked Chan. "Hyunjin and Seungmin are over there getting geared up so yes, but no further," Chan said as he pulled her into a kiss. He could smell her nerves. "Luna. We're all around. Nothing will happen to you." "He's right Luna Y/N. Changkyun and Kihyun are over there too." Hyunwoo reassured so Elsie looped her arm around Y/N's and dragged her off to watch the boys come down the slopes in their dinghies. Y/N and Elsie set up some rules that the first pair down would get to do whatever they wanted. The second pair would get a kiss and so on. It was a race from the highest point which they were so excited about, until the air changed.
The wolves hadn't come down and they had been at the top too long that it was worrying Y/N and Elsie. Y/N was going to phone them when Joshua appeared. "Woah. I meant no harm, omega Y/N." Joshua said, holding out his arms. "Elsie phone Chan," Y/N growled as she pushed the younger omega behind her protectively. "You've changed. There is something different about you. I do mean no harm." Y/N was getting dizzy as she looked into his eyes. She was being sucked into him. "I understand Joshua, but you abused him," Y/N said softly. "That wasn't nice." "I'm here to make amends. Can you accept that?" Joshua asked, placing a hand on her arm. "Sure. But not here. The other wolves won't like it." Y/N said with a smile. "Y/N?!" Jeongin shouted, running down the hill. "What are you doing here?" "Y/N said I can speak to Chan!" Joshua said calmly. "You did?" Jeongin asked. "Yes, I did!" Y/N growled, but she didn't.
Jeongin wasn't buying it and dragged Y/N off, leaving Elsie with Hyunjin. Jeongin was confused and knew there was something wrong with his mate, which was true. As soon as Y/N broke away from Joshua she came back to her senses. She was angry at herself as she kicked the snow. Jeongin crossed his arms waiting for her for her to explain. Y/N did explain what had happened even though it was brief. She explained how one minute she was growling at him and then everything changed. She wanted to tell him to fuck off but it was like she couldn't. Her words were re-written forcing her to speak other words that weren't to exist when it came to Joshua. Jeongin didn't like that knowing Joshua influenced her and the fact Joshua touched their Luna. It made Jeongin feral. It made him lose control. If Y/N wasn't there to hug him, he would have phased in front of everyone. Jeongin was beyond angry and took it upon himself to shout at Chan who wasn't impressed. Chan had even gone as far as to defend Joshua, but Y/N could see it was Joshua's weird essence that made whoever was near him believe in him. Why it wasn't really working on Y/N no one knew but Minho had an idea, but Chan wouldn't hear it. Chan was angry at them all for yelling at him and bringing up old memories on holiday.
It was true this was all a bad time, but Y/N wasn't prepared to lose her alpha to Joshua. She didn't trust him. Not with the power she faced from Joshua. "Chan listen to Minho. You are not you right now just-" "I am not me. What are you going on about Y/N. You are nothing but an omega." Chan shouted pointing at her. Chan never called her an omega. "He's in your head-" "Chan." Minho gasped and pulled Y/N back after Chan slapped her across the face. Y/N grabbed her face and stormed out she was not preparing to lose her alpha. Y/N called Seungmin to come with her but he was too struck to understand what was going on. Y/N wanted to confront him. Y/N took a knife storming out of the house alone to go and find this fucker. Minho ran after with Jisung who tried to call her back but the snow was starting to become heavier that it made them slip. Minho phased into his wolf form to run faster to stop her. His wolf got in front of her moving in her way causing her blue eyes to glare. "Do not stop me, Min," Y/N growled but the tanned wolf whined. "Please. Fuck. Please wait. We need a plan first." Jisung called out as he slid on the snow. "You can't just kill him in front of humans. Think baby. Think Luna please." "Then what do I do? He has my alpha's thoughts in his hands." Y/N cried out as she watched Chan in the distance getting into his car. "I swear to God, you better not Christopher." "This isn't your business, omega," Chan shouted. "If you go. You don't come back." Y/N spat, laughing. Chan stormed up to her his hand going for her throat while Minho growled trying to get in between them. Chan let go and entered his car. "You leave. You'll never be a father."
Taglist for the iconic readers:
@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627
~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~
#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz omegaverse#skz abo#skz smut#abanb#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#lee know#lee know x reader#lee know smut#changbin#changbin x reader#changbin smut#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin smut#han jisung#han jisung x reader#han jisung smut#lee felix#lee felix x reader#lee felix smut#seungmin#seungmin x reader#seungmin smut#jeongin#jeongin x reader
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It is Tradition After All
March x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k
Content & Warnings: Lighthearted, flustered March, Olric once again being an unintentional third wheel, no mention of Christmas (though it’s sorta implied. I wanted to leave “holidays” neutral but there aren’t any other December ones I’m familiar with + Mistria isn’t in our world)
Summary: Olric and March invite you to participate in their family tradition, but you and March soon find that there’s another tradition that could take place…
Worming your way throughout the rambunctious inn with a mug of hot chocolate in hand, you made your rounds of greeting everyone and wishing them happy holidays. Almost everybody was standing, so seeking out certain faces wasn’t easy in the small sea of people. One person that you didn’t take just two seconds to greet, however, was March.
He was leaning against the wall with a certain mysterious air as he swirled his drink around in one hand. The spotlight was a place he loved, but when he wasn’t in it, he much rather preferred to be away from large groups.
“Happy holidays.” You smiled at him, holding your mug with both hands.
With his natural blush turning darker, March shifted his eyes away as he mirrored the sentiment; taking a sip of his cocoa. You tried not to giggle at the little mustache the drink gave him.
“Are there any family traditions you and Olric will be doing?” You attempted to make small talk. March wasn’t the easiest person’s tongue to loose; except when he was drunk of course.
During the past couple weeks in Mistria, you’d learned that many of the people here had their own traditions they participated in. It was quite different from where you grew up.
“Yeah, we hang our metal ornaments on our tree. Every year, both of us make a new one, so tonight we’re hanging those up.”
Warmth bubbled up in your stomach at the heartwarming activity.
“That sounds really nice, March.” You said softly. “That’s not only a really neat tradition, but it seems very special.”
Flushing darker, March tried to ignore your gaze by sticking his nose in his cup.
“It’s nothing much.” He mumbled. His vocal deterrent did nothing though, as it only spurred you further to express your heartfelt joy.
“I really mean it.” You told him, standing a little closer. “It’s so lovely that you add new ones every year. You get to see the progress you’ve made and visually see that another year has passed. I wish I had something that special with someone.”
Taking his burning face out of his drink, March switched to angling his face up; looking down his nose at you. It wasn’t a stubborn look, though. He was red in the face and slightly nervous-looking as always.
“You can join us if you like.” He told you, and your heart soared at the invitation. After realizing how kind he sounded, March stuttered while adding: “N-not because I really want you there. The more the merrier, that’s all.”
Nodding with glee, you told him “of course” (even though you would bet your bull’s golden horns that he was lying). After finishing your drinks, a very cheerful Olric approached and clapped a hand on your shoulder.
“Heard March invited you to help decorate our tree; that’s great!” He exclaimed, giving his brother a big grin.
“Only because I knew you were going to do it anyways.” He said flatly, acting like he was suddenly indifferent again.
“Whatever you say bro!”
After staying at the party for a bit longer, you left the inn; following March and Olric.
Entering their shop, you discovered a large, dark green pine tree had already been placed in the front right corner. It was all bare, waiting to be bedazzled.
Olric pulled out a worn box and the three of you got to decorating. You bumped into March’s side multiple times while looping string over the pointed branches, and each time, one of you would fluster and apologize to the other (though at some point you stopped reacting to it). Once the box was empty, you asked Olric where the new ornaments were.
Dusting his hands off, he told you to wait a moment while he went behind the store counter and grabbed a few small objects.
One was a larger, misshapen piece of copper metal that looked intentionally formed the way it was. The other was a smaller, intricate piece of silver, with acute angles and masterfully shaped details. There was an unmistakeable shimmer to it that differed from your tools that you couldn’t quite place, and then you realized that the ornament was made out of perfect silver ore.
Last season you had given March a perfect silver ore.
“Sorry there isn’t a new one for you to hang up this year.” Olric interrupted your realization, handing you a small item. “You can hang this one up; it was March’s first addition to the tree!”
Groaning, March slid his hand over his face. “I thought you threw that out.”
“I would never! The family tradition must continue!”
“One less piece of ugly metal isn’t going to kill the tree, Olric.”
While the two brothers bickered, you just continued to look at the tiny thing. With its pointy nubs and half-oxidized covering, the idea of just how old March may have been when he made it finally hit you.
“It’s so cute.” You cooed, smiling with mirth and holding it up to eye level with both hands. Almost immediately, March quieted and stopped arguing with Olric.
“Right, well I’ll fix us something to snack on.” Olric said, walking away. “Be right back!”
And then it was just you and March, alone. Awkward silence starting seeping into the air the second Olric left, so you decided to break it.
“How old were you when you made this?”
Stiffening, March replied with “four”.
“That’s so impressive! I had no idea you started blacksmithing when you were so young.”
Turning pink from the praise (which never seemed to happen when anyone else complimented him), he looked randomly around the room. Then, glancing upwards, he gasped a quiet intake of air.
March placed his palm over his mouth; eyebrows twitching and face reddening before you finally looked where he was looking.
It was mistletoe.
There was mistletoe hanging right above you both. Who had even put it there? Olric? But he couldn’t have possibly planned for you both to stand under it.
“We have mistletoe back home too.” You laughed nervously, feeling your face grow warm. “We also have a tradition for it, but I doubt it’s the same since so many here are different.”
With the way March reacted when seeing it, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were wrong. He just continued to look at you with his half-covered, flustered face.
“We have a tradition for it too…” March breathed through his fingers. “We- um, it’s customary that everyone does it if they find themself underneath mistletoe with someone…”
Flushing hard, you found where he was going for this.
“U-us too.”
“So maybe we should-“
“Perhaps we should-“
You swallowed, and March lowered his hand.
Stomach twisting in knots, you stood a little closer to March, and he did to you.
“It is tradition.” He gulped, and you nodded sheepishly.
“Like Olric said: ‘the tradition must continue’.”
March parted his lips, then closed them. He shifted closer to you; face right up against yours. The tension between your bodies was thick as iron. His dark eyelashes fluttered as he turned abashed and looked away.
So, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He lightly gasped again, and you could never get enough of the sound.
Turning immediately to look at you, his hand went up to cup your cheek. The warmth it provided pulled you in, and you found your lips inches from his.
March brought his thumb to your lower lip, eyelids heavy and seemingly entranced as he whispered “it is tradition after all”.
Then he kissed you.
It was soft and sweet, and made even more tender by the fact it was March kissing you. He was slow and gentle while his thumb gently brushed your cheek. Opening your eyes a little revealed his to be shut tight; eyebrows knit together in concentration, determination, or both.
After pulling away, you began to feel a little lightheaded as March averted his gaze; fingers brought up to touch his lips. The blush on his face was the darkest you had ever seen it, and a fluttering pride filled your chest knowing it was because of you.
“I’m glad at least one of our traditions is the same.” You said the tentatively, hand on your upper arm.
“Yeah…” March nodded absentmindedly, staring off into space.
“Found some Star candy!” Olric exclaimed, entering the room and snapping whatever spell the two of you were under; making you both jump out of arms reach. “I hope you don’t mind if it’s not fresh, but it’ll still taste good!”
“It’s fine.” You said a little too quickly, and Olric squinted his eyes at you. Then, he did the same to March; scrutinizing his flustered face. Finally, he looked up and saw the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling and seemed to piece it together.
With a giant smile growing on his face as he looked back down to eye level, he clapped his hands together and turned around to the bag he had set down on the counter.
“Okay!” He said. “I’ve got two different flavors, so no fighting…”
The words trailed off as you looked over at March again. His face seemed closer to a pink now, but if his refusal to look at you told you anything, you were still the cause of his flustered state.
Before tuning back into Olric’s ramble, one singular thought crossed your mind.
You sure do love traditions.
Taglist: March FoM
@itsabea @theloserqueen @moonfiresonorant @turdofanerd @mariusvonhangme
@susanatactica @anomiatartle @apric-t @starsdrawnpastel
@smoochi-march @thatonenewjerseychick
#my work#march fields of mistria#fields of mistria#fields of mistria x reader#march fom x reader#March fom x gender neutral reader#March x farmer
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You are now obliged to write an Eunbi smut
Waterbombed
IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut
5,835 words
Categories | daddy kink, anal, jealousy, squirting, breast worship, fingering, titfucking, spanking, slight exhibitionism
Sorry not sorry for the Eunbi spam—I promise I'll write the other members and other idols after this. Waterbomb Festival Eunbi is just too hot.
Enjoy.

Tokki 🐰: oppaaaaaaaaa
This can't be good. Eunbi's bombing your phone again with ridiculous messages designed to attract your attention. It won't work today, though. You've got a lot to do, and besides that, she's equally busy. She's out there performing in some festival Woollim booked, and it's safe to say that it should have brought about only peace in your office cubicle. No videos, no flirty texts, no nada—that's how it should have been.
But one thing you've learned when dating Kwon Eunbi is to expect the unexpected. Too bad you didn't keep that in mind when you finally gave in and picked up your phone. Work can wait for a few minutes, right?
You: What is it ?
Tokki 🐰: have you seen my performance yet :]
You don't think so. The day's been too packed to make space for a quick watch.
You: Not yet love im busy
Tokki 🐰: you should oppa
becauseeeee
i really enjoyed performing at the waterbomb festival!!!!!
Waterbomb Festival?
Isn't that—
It slowly hits you, as if the information were a hesitant slap on the shoulder. Thoughts come blending into each other in your head and forming a quaky conclusion. Could it be…?
Open another tab on your work desktop. You quickly flock to YouTube. Never mind if your boss sees the history through the internet router. You have to know if your suspicions are true.
Your experienced fingers spell out a search query into the curved search bar. In flash-paced impulse, you type out: "권은비 워터밤."
Then there it is: several fan-recorded videos of your girlfriend, your ever-so-precious and playful Eunbi, dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini top and a see-through cardigan. Her hair is soaked from the sprays and shots of water coming at her, but she's smiling—she looks like she's having the time of her life.
The played previews of the videos are endless loops of her chest rippling and bouncing with her wide movements, even cutting to a clip where she's running her hands up her exposed body, grinding her hips down as if you were there on the stage with her, invisible yet still present.
No wonder she didn't want you to attend. You insisted, but she asked that you did what you had to do.
You're a good man. At least, you try to be. Eunbi's her own person and you're completely fine with whatever she does, even suggesting the kinds of tattoos she could pick out when she went to get some. They're what gave you the inked places to kiss her.
But she knows what she was doing with this. It's impossible not to discern that.
Look around before closing the tab with shivering breaths, then pick up your phone.
You: ?????
You told me it was a festival
Not the WATERBOMB festival
Tokki 🐰: oh come on whats the difference
and you don't own me >:(
i can do whatever i want
:PPPPP
She's got a point, but her intent with this is so obvious, with the lewd expressions she fires the audience and all, that—
You: Oh
So that's how it's going to be, huh.
It's maddening how your picture of her jumping around giggling as she types another message to you is probably accurate.
Tokki 🐰: yes :3
can you come pick me up??
The audacity of this girl sometimes.
But forget it; as any good boyfriend would, you're picking her up. You'll do more than pick her up.
-
Getting there in the guise of her manager isn't easy. You've had to negotiate with him, explaining that you'll pick her up on your own and save him the trouble. I'm a friend of hers, you said. I just want to congratulate her performance, you added. He gave you suspicious looks, but once he saw her name in your contacts, he ultimately agreed.
Driving through the crowd isn't easy either, but you manage to do it. You have your emotions to thank for that. Lust and jealousy, as you've learned, are like demons—they possess you, control you to the point that they invade other aspects of your life. Asmodeus sure likes tinkering with you, and you're just sitting there in the driver's seat letting him? If that's the case, you'd have to attend the Waterbomb Festival itself to wash yourself of hell's flame.
Heat begins to fill the room when you see her though. You'd adlib a pun into the script here, say a joke about how it's only hot because Eunbi is. But you're too turned on by the sight of her tits on display, poorly contained by the thin bikini and held together by one single button of the transparent cardigan.
Her smile pushes you on. She knows what you're here for, but she loves playing dumb as much as she loves provoking you. It's all going according to her plan.
Every bit of her insane curves sway in an aesthetic, almost rehearsed way at you as she approaches. Her hair is still wet, and maybe there's another thing wet, too; her thighs squirm together too much to be merely out of the soaked sprays aimed at her at the festival.
Eunbi's eyes sparkle. Makeup can't fabricate that glimmer.
"Daddy," she says, with conviction. With meaning.
The hair on the back of your nape rises.
Eunbi's pushing you to the empty seat in the room, soon filling your lap with her soft presence. "You really came? I thought you were mad at Eunbi."
There she is again with the third-person thing. The daddy thing, too. She knows it's your weakness, hearing a pretty girl like her who pretends not to know of her effect on people get on her knees and call you what she shouldn't. You won't lie; it's insanely hot, but when she's grinding her round ass down on your growing bulge with that tiny bite of her lower lip, you, as usual, aren't passive. You aren't moved by her coaxing. You refuse to be.
"Watch it," you warn anyway, a hand on one of her womanly hips. You massage it, a cautionary message written in your movements. Now you brush a thumb over her midriff and draw small gasps out of her.
"I'm n-not doing anything."
Innocent as her voice is, her outfit isn't—the patterned bikini top barely holds on to her plentiful breasts, and the cardigan is useless anyway with how clear its seams are.
"Daddy," Eunbi says again, the pout on her lipsticked mouth growing, "don't tease."
"I'm not doing anything," you say, happy to use her line against her.
You love and live to see the weak expressions on her face when you trail your hands gently to the scope of her tits. If they barely fit the bikini, what more in your hands? They're too soft in your fingers as you gingerly toy with them. Her nipples poke the fabric of the top and brush your palms.
Eunbi's gasps frequent. "Please."
"What is this, baby?" you ask. "You go to a festival made for perverts and you make a scene anyway. And now you want me to take this off—"
Unbutton the single thing holding the cardigan together, slipping it off her shoulders. The bare, revealed body in front of you is something the Waterbomb Festival goers were able to see first—just under the gauze of the poor outerwear. It triggers an unhinged emotion in you, something that goes like: mine mine mine.
"—call you a good girl—"
Eunbi's lips are pursed as you touch her everywhere. She's completely soaked after her viral feat at the festival, but there's another thing down below that's wetter. Showing herself off to everybody, men and women alike, has her wet to the core.
Your touch teases yet lingers, stays yet strays. She grinds down on your lap needily.
"—and expect me to fuck you? Really?"
Eunbi's truly all bark but no bite. Her feistiness through texts doesn't translate in real life, wherein she completely melts when you just let your fingertips glide along her waiting skin. Just look at her heaving bosom, her large eyes—she's passiveness itself.
"But you, you liked seeing me up there, daddy," she stammers. Eunbi swallows the moment your hand rests on her cheek. "H-hah, you liked watching me."
She cries out too loud for subtleness at the sudden spank thrown at her tits.
"Is this what you wanted those men at the festival to do to you?" Slap her bouncing tits again, squeezing before throwing another blow. "Slap your big fucking tits, dick you down right there on the stage for everyone to see?"
"Mmm, ah, you ask too many questions, daddy. Oh– oh my god—"
"If you want to be such a bad girl," you say, a harsh squeeze from your right hand on her boob, "you'll get fucked like one."
Pull down the narrow cup of the bikini to suck on her nipples. Replace the redness on the flesh from your slaps to redness from your mouth. You've placed your hand on skirted ass to keep her on your lap, because she's not going anywhere—she'll stay here, here where you can teach her a lesson.
You dare to bite just a little. Beneath your palm, Eunbi's form curves and she screams.
"D-daddy!"
"Sensitive, aren't we?" you ask with a smirk. Your tongue flattens as it licks greedily at her nipples, then retreating to her collarbone and neck. Still, her bountiful breasts are your main focus.
"Please fuck me. I need it, I can't—"
"Take the skirt off. Bend over."
Eunbi whines, but you fire her with a look of warning. Hence, she slips out of the white jean skirt. She doesn't even wear safety shorts underneath. Instead, it's a single thong that matches the plaid pattern of the top. She might as well be at a beach with how little clothing there is on her curvaceous body.
Your blood boils, but it settles when she does bend over obediently on your lap, and you enjoy the sight of her breasts dangling before settling on the soft plush sofa.
"Someone might see, daddy," she protests, though she's already folded in half on the furniture. "The others, they're gonna look."
"You had no problem with that earlier," you say. Circle your palm over the exposed fat cheeks and clench your hand around one, just like you did with her tits. "I should fuck you at the door, make everyone see the sexy little thing they saw at the festival is mine."
"Noooo, please, daddy! The company'll be mad and my fans…oh, my fans—"
"Quiet, baby girl. Let me use you."
Eunbi nods, albeit her shadowed eyes are closed. She whimpers through pursed lips as the first spank capsizes. Her ass moves beautifully, as if it were a dancer just like her. It's hypnotizing, and for that you hit her more.
"Oh, oh yes, daddy, oh my god," she cries out, her voice thin. "I love it when you spank me. M-makes me want to cum all over you."
"Not a chance after the shit you pulled out there."
Her thong is sticky with her juices. Feel it with your middle finger briefly. Dare to slip through the side to touch her waiting pussy. Eunbi sobs a little, reversing her ass into you, but is met with a spank instead. She winces.
Eunbi's ass is, to be brief, amazing. But even with that you'll go on to say how much you love the supple flesh bouncing in front of you, becoming red from the assault of your hand, clenching to bear the teasing. It's already a surprise that you haven't fucked her senseless already when she's lying stomach first on your lap in a tiny two-piece set, but you love to keep her on edge hankering for you to use her.
"So you won't let me cum?" asks Eunbi, as if she were really disappointed that she'd be denied something she doesn't deserve. "That's not fair."
"Do you think it's fair to me?"
"Oh, oh, daddy—" Her legs quake once your fingers nevertheless stuff her hole, and start moving at a pace too early to be set and too much to handle.
Your digits push past her slick walls and fill her over and over. "Presenting what's mine for everyone to see, Kwon Eunbi. And I thought you were a good girl."
"Ohhh, but I am!" Eunbi protests, on the verge of pleasure-induced tears.
You just know where to touch her, where to fuck her pretty cunt at to reduce her to cum and tears. Nothing's a better combination. Stuff a third finger, and Eunbi gets too tight that you can barely fit. You have to spread your fingers a little to make space, yet she still squeezes down.
Through her struggles and cries she doesn't fail to move her crotch into your fingers. It's like she's in a battle of choices: to have you stop or have you go on forever.
"I just wanted to have fun, daddy! I wanted you to punish me, to fuck me—"
"Well, you got what you wanted then, little brat. Cum for me. Cum for daddy."
Her screams fire off into the atmosphere like warnings. They have every right to send cautionary messages; Eunbi's a force to be reckoned with when she cums. At times, she'd yell and sob without shame as she came around your cock, tear the sheets with how hard she grasps at their fabric. But now, at a public waiting room backstage at the festival, she's got nowhere and no one to help her bear her orgasm.
So, while you violently fuck her hole with Eunbi-stained digits, her moans start off as what they were, evolving into louder and louder forms, until she's cumming, cumming all over your fingers as if her pussy were one of the water guns itself. Her squirt doesn't miss her thong, but it also doesn't leave your lap empty in its wake.
Oh, and she's screaming. She's crying out your name in pitched tones, carving your thrusts into stronger forces. "Shit, daddy, please!" Eunbi cries, struggling in your lap and squeezing down hard. "Please, daddy, I don't want to ruin your clothes!"
That's sweet of her, but frankly: "I don't care. Cum all over them. Just keep on squirting for me, baby. That's it."
Pull out to rub at her core, forcing more of her girl cum to eject into the air. Eunbi's legs flail and weaken. Her hips gyrate into your finger and flinch after you start spanking her impossibly wet cunt.
"Thank you, daddy," she says between gaspy gibberish and whimpers. She can barely see anything but stars. "My daddy, thank you, daddy, keep spanking my little pussy like that, mmm, I love you, daddy."
Alternate between spanking and rubbing so that the sofa is absolutely stained with her, so that anyone who comes in the room after the session will know that the Kwon Eunbi was railed here. So they know that they can gawk at her amazing body all they want, but she's yours. Yours, and no one else's.
Eunbi bears it for a few seconds, hips lifting and descending. But it soon becomes too much to bear, for she implores, in a tired voice, "Daddy… stop. Too much."
No problem at all. Stop, like she asked. You never take things too far unless she wants you to, even when she's been bad, which reminds you: "But you're still a bad girl. You need to make it up to daddy."
"I know what to do!" she says, in a sudden cheerful voice she uses when she does her radio gigs. "I can make daddy feel better with this!"
Her legs are still weak, but she gets off your lap with the help of her own eagerness. Eunbi's always so ready to make you feel good.
She kneels, tugging your belt and pants off. Her animated expression at the sight of your cock is adorable, and as you ruffle her hair, you realize you just have to tell her:
"You're so fucking pretty, Eunbi."
Eunbi beams. Her cheeks flush. "Thank you, daddy."
"I bet you'll look even prettier fucking your huge tits on my cock."
"You don't have to tell me what to do," giggles Eunbi. "I'm a big girl."
She completely tears off the bikini top. Her wondrous boobs free themselves from the fabric, baring their flesh to you. It's an attempt to make you drool at the mouth and go bogey-eyed, and you can't say that it isn't successful.
She squeezes her assets and plays with her nipples. Her fingertips brush and circle over the pink patch of skin as she moans seductively. The knot in your stomach tightens.
"Eunbi," you reprimand her.
"What?" she says, eyes full of faux innocence. "I was so horny after you fingered me, daddy. You're just so hot when you're mad."
"I'll be madder if you don't let me fuck you."
She laughs. "Don't worry, daddy. Just sit there and relax for me, okay?" Eunbi raises a thumb questioningly.
Lower lip pinned under her teeth, she guides her large breasts to your cock. It takes no effort at all for her to slip your cock between. It's not unexpected either that the big soft skin imprisoning you feels amazing. With their size and impossibly smooth texture, you've no other choice but to moan loudly.
The backside of your length enjoys the space between her tits, while the rounded sides revel in their booby trap. Not a pun, you swear, especially not when your girlfriend's titfucking you, but there's no coherent thought when she's doing it. When she's smiling naughtily. When she's compressing her tits around your length like it's determined to keep you there forever. When—
"You're doing so fucking good, baby."
"Of course," she says happily. "Daddy made me cum even though I was a bad girl, so I'll always be good for him."
"Consider this your punishment, then."
"How is it a punishment if I love it?"
"Don't start."
Another warning she doesn't heed. "I already have."
Her chest heaves and rests while being instructed by her hands. Eunbi lets a run of spit stream down her cleavage and on your cock as lubricant. Wipe the drool from her chin and offer it to her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with delicateness as she sucks on your thumb. The soft lips wrapping around your finger causes you to wonder what they'd feel like around your girth.
(Next time.)
"Gently," you have to remind her. The constriction of her bust around your cock is a little too much. So is her eager looks. "There's no rush here."
"But I want you to cum," Eunbi says. "I want you to cum all over my big tits you love so much. You love me, don't you? Then cum for me, daddy, show me you love your little baby girl, please?"
Fuck, it's tempting. You'd love to pepper her beautiful face and bust with your cum. She'd look so pretty in it while still keeping the look of pureness in her irises. But you have to hold out.
She toys with your cock, slapping it against her boob then running its tip on her nipple. Your heart skips a beat, and she smirks. Seems like you're not doing a good job of keeping your daddy persona, but she's good enough to continue rubbing your firm veins on her skin.
Eunbi's chest is a real-life fleshlight. Soon, your hips start to move of their own accord, and you're meeting her thrusts now, only with a little more force. There's the friction to chase after, too, and you're right at its heel. You're winning the race, already; you can almost taste it—
"Ohhh, daddy!" she says delightfully. Your cum rains on her chest and neck like a storm. The thunder can be your groans that instead of fearing, she relishes.
"F-fuck," you say. "Fucking brat, take it all—"
Eunbi listens this time. She removes her bosom from enveloping your cock and attaches her mouth to it instead. You've trained her well; she shoves her face all the way down your length, effectively taking it all in her tight throat. Her neck flexes and relaxes. It stimulates you and has your legs bouncing.
Her eyes remain sealed onto you. The brightness in them that they hold so often tells you more than words could: she loves being your good girl as much as she loves being a brat. She loves riling you up but also loves being good and letting you have your way with her. It's what Eunbi keeps living for, and some may say it's an addiction, but if it is, she'd never want to recover. Not if it means having your warm cum down her throat and your hand tangled in her hair.
You call her a good girl more times than you can count. Ruffle her hair all the while and wipe the tears forming in her eyes when she whimpers. It takes a while getting her to get all of your cum—her throat extracts more from you, and it ends up with her gagging just a little. Finally, she makes the move to breathe.
Pants ride her shoulders, but Eunbi smiles. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she says. "Let's go home now—"
"Oh, no, Eunbi, we're not done."
"H-huh?"
You pull her up and into your lap, her butt parked only a little away from your cock. Eunbi wears a shocked look on her face, and it only adds up to the hotness of her wearing nothing but a Burberry thong while on your thighs.
"I still have to teach you a lesson," you tell her between firm squeezes on her butt. "You think I forgot?"
"Why?" she whines. Her hands fidget with your shirt. "I've been a good girl, haven't I? You got to cum!"
"And I'm not stopping." Guide her hips to dance along the head of your length. Brush against her engorged clit. Tease her slit. "Fucking ride my dick."
You push her down. Eunbi cries out, her nerves still on a high after her previous orgasm. To be fair, you're a little sensitive, too, but you look forward anyway to cumming in her tight little pussy. It could happen any time when she's just so fuckable, her busty self bouncing and squirming on your girth, and her face never failing to not hide the pleasure she's going through. You can feel her twitch and spasm, but of course, you keep slamming her down on your lap like she's a little rag doll.
"Daddy!" she screams. "Please, oh fuck, you're so big!"
She's a little greedy herself. If you wanted to fuck her till she came and begged you to stop, she wanted it more. She's wild and unhinged as she rides you, impaling herself with your rod though you cumming in her would do more bad than good, but when it pokes every good spot and stretches her tiny cunt better than any toy or a couple of fingers, she might as well do it with no regrets.
Kiss her collarbone and keep a hand on her ass to guide her. Squeeze; her moans break. Then Eunbi's looking at you with crazed eyes, deluded and dizzy with pleasure, as you slap her fat ass and let her wet core press its walls around your penis like a trap. This whole thing's a trap if you really looked at it, from the appearance at the Waterbomb Festival to the outfit she's wearing, but if that were so, you'd want no parole. If being jailed in her hole means getting this delicious tightness and hearing her whiny loud moans every second, you'd appeal for a life sentence.
She might as well be liquid—the roll of her hips is too fluid to be that of a human. But you've seen her fancams from the festival and guess that it was a manifestation, a prophecy for this to happen. Your cock can't be anything other than solid, however. Eunbi's too sexy a girl for your erection to be nonexistent.
"That's it, Eunbi." Lean back a little into the wet sofa to let her do her thing. "Ride that fucking cock. Fill that tight pussy."
"I will, daddy," she responds, nodding as if in a spell-cast trance. Maybe it's true; the heat brewing in the small of her stomach is too good to be true. "Yes, please, I love your big cock, it feels so good inside me."
You don't even have to guide her anymore. She's fully fucking herself on you, her stamina never failing her. Her full thighs strain and her pussy clenches down with a slippery yet firm grip. Groan, then slap her ass. She hums happily. Your relentless upward thrusts and slaps just burn her lust into a complete fire.
It's a surprise your legs don't collapse on the way to carrying her and fucking her against the wall. It gives you more opportunity to stuff her with you harder. Eunbi's legs spread more, her breathing ragged, and you're kissing her again. You press your lips on hers, then on her neck for which she closes her eyes appreciatively, then her collarbone. There isn't one part of her you don't love. You'd paint her with your cum three times a day like a daily meal if you could.
For now, you binge on lust with her. You eat more of her than you should. But who's making the rules? Whoever they are, let it be known you're breaking them—skin slapping against skin grows louder, almost syncing with Eunbi's repeated moans and your pumps. Her hips and yours create a rhythm together to make it work, to make your cock fit inside her, but she ends up weak and tired anyway.
"Please, daddy. S-suck my tits. I need your mouth on me so bad. Can you give your baby girl what she wants, daddy?" Her pout prods you on. "You can, right?"
"Of course."
Latch your mouth on one of the bouncing circles of flesh. Nibble, suck, spit, suckle—that's your beginning loop of actions for her. But it becomes frenzied after a while because of how good her folds swallow you, how soft her breasts are. Even as your actions become less and less sequenced, she moans. You never want to hear anything else.
"Yes, yes, yes. Thank you. I, I'm gonna cum soon. Keep fucking me like that and I promise, I promise I'll squirt around your s-stupidly big cock. I will, I will, just fuck me, oh my god. Oh, daddy!"
Eunbi stays true to her word, especially with your thumb toying her clit. She lets out another rush of cum on your crotch. It's wet, it's plenty, it's oh-so-hot when she's screaming helplessly like that, struggling to keep up with your speed.
Pull out so more of her can spray all over you. If people don't hear your little session in this waiting room, they'll see evidence of it—it ends up on the floor, the sofa, the wall, and your soaked clothes on the ground. Maybe Eunbi's back could have imprinted a mark on the wall too after how hard you fucked her. It's too easy for adoring fans and nonchalant staff alike to find out what happened to their beloved Kwon Eunbi after the festival, and you have a feeling that it's part of what makes Eunbi squirt so much now.
Go south. Keep your fingers on her hips to help her stand. Then, flick your tongue on her clit to help her go through the long stretch of her orgasm.
"Ahh, fuck!"
Her core tightens again. Her hips flinch and recoil, but you keep firing your sharp little licks long after her climax subsides.
"Oh, daddy," Eunbi sighs, dizzy, "that felt so good."
"Can you go for more?"
You're met with a curious look. It's as if she's wondering herself: could she?
"I want to fuck your ass, too, Eunbi." Squeeze her cheek, and her other cheek turns red. "Won't you let daddy fuck this perfect little thing?"
Eunbi shivers. She walks over to the windowsill, steps shaky, and places her hands on it. Then, she looks back at you, coaxing you on. And you have to admit that it's quite the sight, because there she is, in only skimpy underwear and her breasts bare of any covering.
It's the fact that she's so willing to go and expose herself through the uncurtained window and show everyone who gets to fuck her that makes you approach her.
"Naughty girl."
Eunbi nods. What's there to deny? Her eyes shut after you spank her.
"If I get to fuck your ass every time you go to Waterbomb," you say, trailing her wetness to her asshole as lubricant and lathering it with her arousal, "I'd let you go here daily."
Eunbi giggles. "So you're not mad anymore, daddy?" she asks hopefully.
Your cock rubs her hole. It teases her, keeps her on the tips of her toes. "Maybe."
Push, just a little. Already she's clenching down unintentionally. Eunbi hisses and shuts her eyes.
"Ffffuck, hnn." Her hands drum a tortured song on the windowsill while her voice strains a melody of darling cries and whines. "Haaah, daddy, you're so big. I don't think I can take it."
"Of course you can," you say, choosing to be gentle this time, "'cause you're my good girl, right?"
"Y-yes. I'll take it for you, daddy—I can do it."
"That's my Eunbi."
Kiss her neck and slowly plunge more inches in her. She keeps letting out soft cries. Her face, showcasing her eyes shut tightly and mouth slightly hung open, reflects into the window. You wonder which group's performing now, and if the audience is too enamored by their song to see the previous sex doll that is Eunbi being fucked at the window. That somehow encourages you alongside her soft moans of pleasure.
It's Eunbi's first time with anal, and she never imagined she'd experience it here, at a place where anybody can see her pleasure and struggle. She clamps a palm on her mouth.
"Daddy… ahhh, it's so big, daddy!" she cries softly.
"I know. Just spread that tight ass for me, will you? So you can take daddy better?" Smile when she follows your orders. "Thank you, baby. You ready?"
"Mmm." Eunbi hums hesitantly. "Yes."
She said she was, so there's no hesitance on your end in relentlessly fucking her asshole. It gapes a little with the help of her fingers, but Eunbi still wails. Stroke after stroke of your length fills her up and she isn't sure how to deal with the pleasure and pain it brings about.
Her textured, pink walls might be a close competitor in terms of tightness with her pussy. With how closed its walls are, it nearly refuses to take you in. Try rubbing at her clit. As a result, it clenches around you tighter. Eunbi sobs and huffs as she tries with every inch of her spent body to take you in.
"Nnnn, daddy! S-so big, so good, it's so good!"
Open her up. Spread the tight cheeks by spanking them. The backside before you grinds and gyrates in response. There's more wetness now on Eunbi's legs, trickling down her skin. Maybe it's sweat? Squirt? Cum? No time to think about it when you're focused on how damn tight she is.
Somehow, your pats and rubs on her core make her tighter. She's restricting you fully, forcing you to draw your hips all the way back to slam inside her. With each, she gasps, as if surprised, and begs again. Begs for more, although her ass is too tight to take more than a few pleasured inches in. Begs you to use her, spank her, which you do although you don't really understand the rest of her sentences. It's all garbled and messy, just like your swift thrusts.
"Pound me, fuck me! Fuck me for everyone to see, daddy, make me cum!"
Now that part's clear as day. You love Eunbi too much to not do what she says.
A few seconds in she relaxes a little. Hence, the rest of your dick goes inside her. You let out a soft groan at how good it feels: finally filling her to the hilt. You kiss her sweaty back, rub her clit, tell her how much of a good girl she is. It takes effect; she grows tighter and more relaxed at the same time. How it's possible, you've no idea, for you live in the present wherein you're fucking Kwon Eunbi's tight ass to no end.
Rub her little midriff. "You want me to fill this pretty stomach with my load, baby? You want me to cream your ass?"
"Yes, daddy!"
Now, trail your finger down to her clit where you rub furiously. "Want me to make you squirt again?"
"Fuck! Daddy!" Eunbi's legs twitch and she throws her head back. "Yes, yes, make me cum, make me cum!"
That you do. Keep the tempo of your thrusts and rubs unsynced so as to let her experience the pleasure from both ends. Let your other hand squeeze and pinch her nipples, and let the fact that only you get to toy with them, not the audience. Not one single man out there gets to fuck her like this, even in his dreams.
You smile for a bit until you blow your load inside her tight hole. Eunbi's feet finally lose balance and she falls back into you. Continue to thrust in her to ease your climax while she rains her squirt all over the pane and wall. Let a few fingers inside her pussy, too, and the silver rain grows stronger. Plentier. Better.
"So fffucking big, thank you, daddy," she mumbles coherently enough. She kisses your jaw tiredly. "Feels so good in my ass, thank you, I love you, thank you… the best…"
Her repeated whispers are adorable. You wince as you pull out. You're fully and completely drained, and you don't have to guess to know that she is, too.
"Calm down now."
"Okay, I will…"
"I love you, too, by the way." Your lips meet hers. She kisses back happily. "Don't forget that."
"Won't… forget…" Eunbi nods. Her heart pounds as fast as yours. "We'll go home now? For real this time?"
"For real this time," you chuckle. Stroke her hair.
You let her robe fall around her spent body and drive her home. The janitors have a tough time cleaning up the room, luckily only assuming someone spilled water. The scent of sex still hangs around, though.
She's your passenger princess on the way home, but the next three times she'll attend the Waterbomb Festival, she's your toy. You're flying with her to Japan to fuck her anytime, just as a firm reminder that as much as she's loved to show off in the events, you love fucking her more.
#kpop smut#izone smut#soloist smut#female idol smut#girl group smut#kwon eunbi smut#eunbi smut#izone eunbi smut#male reader#x reader#reader insert#pov smut#idol x male reader#idol x reader#obligation#request
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Warm
─La squadra di esecuzioni x teen!fem!reader (platonic)
─Summary: Your life is a constant change, new faces in such a short time make you get used to it, you become an adaptable person and you find a family with the group that seems to fit least with your warm personality.
─Warnings: none, lil ooc maybe¿
Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five
It's not the best time to write more different things, but I need more content from these men 😔✋🏻
You clutched the box tightly in your arms, the sound of your feet bouncing off the empty streets being the only sound besides the light summer breeze, a feeling of uncertainty spreading through your chest with every step, you had done this so many times and yet you were still just as nervous, like you were stuck in a loop where you meet your preschool class for the first time but repeating the event over and over again with unfamiliar faces.
It had happened once, twice, more than five times if you don't forget others, delegated to other groups, sent elsewhere with no say or vote, since you were someone replaceable, your boss didn't give a shit where you were, as long as you paid what you owed him.
There came a point where it didn't bother you, looking back, that day you fought tooth and nail to keep them from taking you, you begged, you cried, you did everything you could, but in the end your parents were the ones who made the decision, the final say. Of course, who would rather pay their debts when they can sell their daughter?
To this day, you still hate them for it, but you wouldn't waste all that energy for nothing again, your fury and anguish calmed down over the years, making you the docile teenager you are now, a bit of an idiot and distracted, but it was easier to obey, not ask and do your job, even though it didn't always go well, that's why you went from group to group for Passione, your capo, Polpo, tried to make you fit into some group, but he gave up, you knew that when he sent you straight to la squadra di esecuzione.
You didn't know much about its users, just that they were one of the worst paid groups, so you assumed that either their superiors didn't care about them, or they were really bad at their job, you didn't care, either way, you're worse, not for nothing you've been going back and forth, although in a way your own skill was what put you in this situation.
You gulp once you find yourself in front of your destination, a simple wooden door, with a worn golden knob and what looks like some dents from blows, you count up to three to calm your nerves, ignoring the tingling in your fingers and forearms due to the pain of carrying your belongings all the way.
The door opened with an unpleasant creak, your obstructed view met dark blue eyes, as deep as an ocean, his gaze seemed stern and his brow remained furrowed.
"Oh, you must be the newbie."
You nodded, swallowing the words of introduction, he let you pass, the stairs creaking under your weight, following the blond, you found yourself in front of the living room, where some of the others were, your presence wasn’t conspicuous enough to distract them from whatever they were doing, it was a relief, you wanted to unpack and take some time to get to know the others, quietly. Going up another flight of stairs was a long hallway full of doors, yours was the first on the right, the door was simple, splintered, complementing the slightly deteriorated state of the house.
"You can leave your stuff here, I'll let you explore the house on your own, just don't poke your nose in some places, some people don't like others rummaging through their stuff."
"Okay, thanks…"
"Prosciutto."
You nodded, taking in the information, he left, leaving you alone with your thoughts again, the door made a soft click when you kicked it, finally dropping the box on the floor, you stretched out your sleepy arms. The room was simple, a bed, a small nightstand and a window, it wasn't better than other places you had settled, but having a roof to sleep under is already a good thing.
You didn't waste any time, you strategically left the little you brought in the room, it still seemed depressing, yes, but a little more welcoming and in line with your tastes, now came the worst part, the introductions, you hated the beginnings, they were always tense, distrustful or too direct, but you had to deal with them.
First impressions are never as you expect, you noticed how the atmosphere intensified when you came down at dinner time that day, how all the curious eyes looked at you and analyzed you, everything happened as you thought, in an uncomfortable way, being ignored for the most part except for Pesci, who was much more open to interacting with you. You felt a great current of different emotions; disbelief, annoyance, indifference, irritation... they all mixed together and seemed to make a whirlwind of emotions in front of your eyes.
Risotto, your boss, remained oblivious to everything that was happening at the table, as if he was a ghost that only watched in silence. You noticed how his face contorted with every shout at the table, as if it was annoying or uncomfortable for him.
Prosciutto, quite similar to the boss, his gaze was just as hard as when he received you, although he was much more involved in making the others stop behaving like children at the table, he seemed to be the only one with character, manners, completely strict regarding his convictions. His brother Pesci was something completely opposite, which amused you, much calmer and insecure, his tone did not have a hint of demand, it helped you calm your nerves a little in all this madness.
Formaggio seemed friendly, open to talk, although not with you at the moment, he seemed like the kind of person who needed a little confidence to be able to talk to someone, just because he seemed to mess with his colleagues, comments not appropriate for someone you just met but yes for colleagues. Illuso was one of the most irritated at the table, he seemed more sophisticated and elegant than the others, not as much as the blond, he seemed a little annoyed with Formaggio's attitude, they were the two who started arguing.
Because of their argument they alerted what you called the team's time bomb, Ghiaccio exploded like a storm, uncontrollable screams filled the table, making dinner in that house complete chaos once again.
The only one who seemed to enjoy all of this was Melone, totally entertained by his companions, he gave you some sidelong glances and you immediately knew he was disappointed with something about you, although the feeling quickly changed to a more cheerful one, whatever it was that bothered him about you, he hid it quite quickly and effectively.
That night you went to bed with a bitter taste in your conscience, you didn't know if you could really fit in with this group, they're all so different, you were like a stain on their suit, but again, you accepted this change, anyway you were good at adapting to anyone.
The first week was slow, with no missions or assignments, you spent unbearable hours in your room, staring at the wall, staring at the ceiling, staring out the window, hearing occasional laughter and screams in the living room, you had spoken little or nothing with them, although you felt a small advance with Formaggio, Melone and Pesci, they were the most open to talking more with you.
Only sometimes, at the time when everyone was in their rooms, was when you went out to enjoy the shared rooms, you put the living room TV at a low volume to enjoy some late night programs, like now, so absorbed in a documentary about swans that you didn't hear the creaking of a door, some curses and a slight scamper, it wasn't until something furry and heavy climbed onto your lap that you realized.
"Shit, hey babe come here, don't scratch-! oh"
Formaggio came across an unusual scene, you were calmly petting his cat, being that that fussy feline didn't appreciate most of the people in this house, many times she couldn't even stand her owner.
"Is she your cat?" He nodded slowly, approaching the couch, dropping down next to you, taking a prudent space due to the snort that the animal let out of her mouth, something that you didn't notice "She's very cute."
You smiled, stroking the cat's chin, receiving a loud purr, your body warmed up feeling how the animal enjoyed your caresses, feeling totally captivated.
"How the hell are you doing that?"
"Do what?"
"She doesn't let anyone pet her except Risotto or me, she doesn't like new people either."
You shrugged, not having an exact answer to his question, you just sat in silence with the soft hum of the television in the background, it was nice, quiet, unlike normal during the day, apart from the fact that there was no one to argue with, Formaggio found himself enjoying that peace, appreciating how relaxed you were.
He didn't give you any importance when you arrived, but maybe it was nice to have someone who could bring some calm to this gloomy place, if he compared you to the others, you seemed much more vibrant than everyone here, more hopeful... or maybe it was because you were just a carefree teenager to a certain extent, whatever it was, he would like to get to know you a little more.
Since that night Formaggio started making little jokes with you, they weren't as hurtful as some of the others, but he was glad to see how you returned his sarcasm, you talking to him was already a good step forward. The passing of the days became pleasant, the volatile interactions were prolonged with most, although the trust was not at its highest point, there was a glimmer of rapprochement.
"(y/n), Risotto wants you in his office."
Prosciutto announced, coming down the stairs, cutting off your little chat with his brother, you nodded and leave the comfort offered by the old, frayed sofa.
"Right away."
You didn't waste time, thinking about what your boss would need, with an idea in your head, you weren't nervous or anything, Risotto could seem as intimidating as he wanted, his height, his gaze, his impassive face, his voice... everything could instill fear in anyone, but you saw another side of him, all those grimaces, glances, almost inaudible sighs, gave you another, much deeper description of him, you felt respect and empathy towards your boss, finding some similarities with your behavior.
You knocked before entering, you slowly opened the door, it was the first time you saw his office, it was just as depressing as the whole building, moldy walls, peeling paint, and it seemed to plunge into total darkness except for the small table lamp on the dark oak desk.
"I'll be direct, I understand that you don't want to reveal your stand to everyone here, it's not necessary, but I'd like to know about it so I can send you on missions you might be suitable for."
"Oh, that was it."
All your calmness went out the window, just when you were starting to get comfortable with the team, the insecurity that your skills were useless came to the fore, but you swallowed all that, after all you had to start working someday.
"Well, it's... it's a little stupid, you see, it's nothing physically harmful, it can't hurt people seriously."
Risotto's eyes moved from your face to your shoulder, curiosity shining in them at the sight of a being the size of a typical action figure, its colors matching yours, its hair wavy to the shoulders, with big eyes like a puppy and a smiling mouth in the shape of a 'v'.
"What can it do, exactly?"
"Transmit emotions or exchange them."
To emphasize your point, your little friend changed their face, one sad, one angry, one scared… the curious glint in Risotto's eyes died instantly, returning to its dull, monotonous state.
"Okay, thanks for letting me know."
"Do you need anything else?"
"Yes, indeed, you will go on the next mission tomorrow, I will give you more information in the morning, for now, rest."
At that moment you calmly accepted, saying goodbye to him, returning to the living room to continue your talk with Pesci, which Melone joined a while after returning, but that night you did not stop tossing and turning in bed, hitting your head on the pillow and screaming against it to release all the nerves, it was your first mission, you had to perform well.
You stayed up all night for nothing, all your nerves were of no use at all, you didn't know if you repressed the bad feelings so much that you didn't feel nervous or it was the confidence that Prosciutto would be paired with you today, whatever it was, you got it, you just need to follow a guy, ask him some questions and end up killing him if necessary.
You had a bigger challenge in that mission than finding the guy, talking to Prosciutto was difficult, he was a little intimidating, it was ironic that the more normal he seemed, the more he intimidated you, but his attitude was too strong for you, you found yourself thinking of some topic of conversation the first few minutes, the silence was too thick for your liking, so you came up with any nonsense just to eradicate it.
"What shampoo do you use for your hair? It looks shiny and silky."
The question took him unnoticed, since most of the time you had behaved more like a listener than a talker, he looked at you for a few seconds, a nervous smile decorating your face, your gaze fixed on the street you were walking down, his silence made you think that the question would fall on deaf ears, which wouldn't surprise you.
"It's not any special one, the common one they sell in all supermarkets."
It was your turn to be surprised, not only because he answered your silly question, but because of the fact that his hair looked nice with a generic shampoo, you touched your hair with a frown, were you the problem? Your hair has never been exceptionally good with any shampoo, Prosciutto noticed how your smile turned into a grimace, it made him look at you with confusion, with a new sparkle in your eyes, you pointed accusingly at the blond.
"How do you do it!? Witchcraft? Are you a witch?"
A playful irritation came from your words, your brow remaining furrowed, though this time you faced him head on, not paying attention to the street, Prosciutto put on a blank expression, he thought that even though you were younger than the rest, you were a bit more mature, it was the first impression you gave him, reserved, calm and respectful, but in the end, you are still a bit of a silly teenager. He honestly doesn't know why he continued with the discussion about the hair treaty, but he did it anyway, you seemed a bit different than you were at home, maybe he decided to go ahead to bring out this side of you, unknown to him yet.
Your torso collided with Prosciutto's hand as you tried to turn the next street, he grabbed your shoulder, throwing your body behind the wall, he put a finger to his mouth, pointing to the alley ahead, urging you to take a look, there didn't seem to be anything or anyone, but supposedly the guy you were supposed to interrogate should be there at that time according to what you studied, narrowing your eyes, sharpening your senses, a strong sensation settled in your chest, a horrible and desperate sensation, it made your heart squeeze strongly as if it were being deprived of pumping blood, it was such a visceral, painful feeling that you thought you were going to die at that moment. Your partner didn't notice the agony as he took a few steps towards the alley to investigate, thinking you would follow him, you only went a couple of steps further due to the pain.
"How strange... fresh blood?"
Alarms went off in the blond's head, immediately alert, he was surprised when he saw you leaning against the wall as if you were being tortured for your expression of terror, an enemy stand had attacked, was the first thing he thought, seeing you point to the sealed container made him understand that the user was there, however the only thing he found was a practically mutilated body, although alive, his breathing was very shallow, on the verge of death, that was the guy you were looking for, Prosciutto picked him up and threw him out of the container, it's not like it mattered much, his body probably doesn't feel at this point.
"Please... please finish me..."
His pleas were not heard, the blond lit a cigarette, taking a look at how you were still writhing in your place, he didn't understand, was it the smell? Was it the grotesque scene? He figured you'd be used to this by now, there weren't any enemies, but you seemed fine, all things considered, so he let you fend for yourself for the moment while he got some information out of the guy.
The feeling faded like a candle flame, but it was a desperation that ran through every inch of your skin, you struggled to control the thin watery layer formed in your eyes due to the sudden discomfort, controlling your breathing pattern, your body returned to normal after a minute, taking a few extra seconds to get back on your feet, you noticed someone on top of the roof of one of the buildings looking down at the alley, he turned around before he could see you, but you managed to catch some of his appearance, what caught your attention the most, a completely black diamond-shaped tattoo on his forearm.
"Get up, the man is dead, you shouldn't have stayed behind."
On the way home there was no silence, because Prosciutto was scolding you for standing aside doing nothing, although it's not like there was anything to do, if something more serious had happened and you had been distracted you could have ended badly.
"What was all that about there? It seemed like you were in pain, did someone attacked you?"
"Umh… no, no, I think it was the man's fault, he had a lot of constipated feelings, you know? People let all that show when they are about to die, a lot of very strong emotions are released and it can affect me a little, although it had never happened to me like that before."
You muttered the last part, noticing the blank look on your companion's face, you completely forgot that he didn't know anything about your stand, which was why he thought you were simply incapable of seeing someone die because it affected you too much, you quickly explained yourself before he thought you were a complete idiot for a job like an assassin, and he understood… sort of, your ability was peculiar.
BONUS!
"So, do I first apply a little shampoo, rub well, rinse the hair, put more shampoo again and repeat the process?"
"Exactly, but you must massage your head precisely, right where the hair starts, next to the ears and behind the nape of the neck in circular movements."
"Ohhh, I got it."
You gave Prosciutto a bright smile as you wrote everything down in a small notebook, he pinched the bridge of his nose, you had interrupted his peace when he was about to sleep to take notes on how to wash your hair properly.
"Don't forget to wash it with warm or cold water, heat ruins it."
"Noted, thanks!"
You quickly closed your notebook, making a vague gesture with your hand to say goodbye, you didn't bother to close the door, he frowned, listening to the bathroom door slam and the sound of the shower echoing through the silent house.
#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba part 5#jjba x reader#jjba x platonic reader#vento aureo x platonic#golden wind#fem reader#reader insert#sfw#platonic reader#la squadra x reader#la squadra x platonic reader#la squadra x teen reader
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Red or Blue
Tangerine x reader <3 based on this lovely prompt
it's kind of a slow burn, which is so unlike me, but- welp. whatever? ig? no triggerwarnings anyway, they don't even kiss
masterlist
(he's genuinely so fine i am unwell)
"This is all your fault", you huff, crossing your arms as you stare at the array of candies in front of you.
"How's any of this my fucking fault?", Tangerine seethes, trying to keep his voice down somewhat (which is already better than what he does most times), but hardly succeeding.
"If you'd listened to me, I wouldn't have been backed into that corner in the first place and Lemon wouldn't have had to come save me", you bite back, narrowing your eyes as you pluck a bag of gummies off the shelf. "Ergo, he wouldn't have got hurt."
"Lemon likes the red ones better", Tangerine grunts, taking a step closer to you as an elderly couple turns the corner and pushes their cart into your aisle. "And 'ergo' what the fuck do you mean, love? I wasn't the one to fucking break his leg."
"You don't use ergo like that", you correct, tilting your head back to him as if that nickname hadn't just sent your heart into cardiac arrest. "Also, I'm pretty sure Lemon likes the blue ones just fine."
"Yeah, just fine, but he likes the red ones better, that's the difference."
Tangerine reaches for the bag of red candy and his arm brushes your shoulder, immediately restarting your heartbeat with a deafeaning thump.
"I thought the red ones 'made his stomach feel funny' yesterday", you argue, even though you can already hear the way your resistance is crumbling as his eyes meet yours again, some of that feral fighting instinct in there that you recognise from missions.
"That was the green ones, love", he corrects, plucking the bag of blue candies from your grip and shoving it back into the shelf. You gasp in outrage. "Just listen to me for fucking once and take the goddamn red candy."
You put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes at him.
"Oh, since when is the fucking problem me listening to you?", you seethe, your lips still parted, ready to shoot a whole tirade at him in the middle of this 24/7 supermarket when you're suddenly interrupted by a hearty chuckle to your left.
Tangerine's head snaps around a nanosecond before yours does.
"I'm sorry", the elderly lady says, her hair white as snow and her arm looped through what you guess to be her husband's. "I didn't want to interrupt you two, I just- I can remember how stressful that was, being young, just married, dealing with the little ones..."
"I'm sure if we'd had these twenty-four hour stores when we'd just had children, we would have stood right there arguing too", her husband laughs.
You blink at them helplessly for a few moments. What the fuck is happening? Hello? Marriage? Kids?
"It gets better", the woman chuckles. "We're happy and stress-free now, aren't we?"
Her husband hums in agreement and presses a kiss to her temple.
"And you look like a lovely couple", she goes on, smiling at you. "You'll manage this stage too."
This stage.
Oh, dear lord.
She's talking about this stage of being married. This stage of having young children. Because you're standing in a 24/7 supermarket candy aisle with Tangerine, arguing about which colour to get for Lemon, which she seems to have interpreted as a nickname for your son.
Your fucking son. Your and Tangerine's son. In your marriage.
"Oh, um", you stutter, brushing a hand through your hair as you stare at the couple, doing your hardest not to cast even a fucking glance Tangerine's way. Your cheeks are stinging with heat. You don't need him to see that. "Actually, we're not-"
"Not married yet", Tangerine interrupts, his hand flexing and clenching around his bag of candy. Any train of thought you'd previously had shatters completely and your head whips around to him after all - is that a faint dust of pink on his cheeks? Is it really what you think it is? Fuck, should your heart be hammering this fast and strong and loud?
"Ah", the woman grins. "How times have changed. We'd had to get married as soon as I was pregnant."
"Are you engaged, then?", her husband asks, raising his eyebrows and smiling pleasantly.
They're so calm. Meanwhile, your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.
"Uh", you say, not all that intelligently.
"Yeah", Tangerine rasps, his voice hoarse somehow. "Few months now."
You blink wordlessly at him. What the actual fuck is he doing? There's no reason to lie. None. You're not undercover.
"That's nice", the woman smiles. "Well, have a good night then."
They're already half-turned away when she looks back over her shoulder.
"Oh, and for those candies", she adds with a conspicuous grin. "Just take both. Let your son decide which he likes better when they're side by side."
You swallow.
"Uh, thanks", you mutter, unsure if they can even still hear. "Good night."
Tangerine drops the bag of candies into your cart. Then he's quiet. And you're quiet.
Too quiet.
For too long.
You don't know what the hell has just happened.
"Tangerine", you breathe, your voice low, and your eyes settle on him slowly. "Since when are we engaged?"
He grunts and drags his eyes away from you, grabbing your bag of blue candies off the shelf again and putting it in the cart with the other one.
"Since fucking never, love", he grumbles, just before his hands close around the handles of the cart. "But I wasn't about to say that, was I?"
"No?", you guess with a frown as you force yourself to move, to trail after him down the aisle. "Because?"
Tangerine turns to look at you like you're mad.
"Because they could've been fucking spies, love", he snarls, as though that's obvious and you're somehow dumb for not thinking of it.
"You're not serious."
He can't be serious.
But he stops the cart and turns to look at you, way too close and way too tall, and if you'd thought you had seen a blush on his cheeks before, it was definitely gone by now. There's that familiar dangerous glint in his eyes instead. Somehow, that puts you more at ease.
"Do you see me bloody laughing?", he seethes, his fingers clenching so hard around the handle that his knuckles turn white.
"I don't think I've ever seen you laugh", you mutter and swallow hard at the way his eyes fixate on yours. "You really made up a whole ass lie for an eighty-year old couple because you thought that they could be spies?"
Tangerine huffs and turns back, pushing the cart with even more ferocity now.
"Yes, love", he grunts.
Your stomach drops. You don't know why.
Instead of dwelling on it, you fiddle with the rings on your hands and fall in step with him.
"Well", you hum. "If you ever do buy me a ring, I don't want it in blue or in red."
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While it wasn’t quite so early in the morning when the infamous Red of Hearts decided to barge into her office, again, it was around the time Uma was about to sit down and enjoy a quick cup of coffee before the more hectic parts of her day would begin. So perhaps you could forgive her for entertaining the thought of throwing the red head out the window. It was only for a second, she would assure you. As a principle she must not condone violence.
As a pirate, well, that’s different.
But she’s actually gotten quite use to Red coming into her office what feels like every other day, sometimes welcomed sometimes not, always for one reason or another. That a part of her actually kind of expected it.
What she did not expect was for Red to fling/splay herself upon the couch as if she was in a therapy session and for the first words out of her mouth to be. “Chloe won’t kiss me.”
Uma very nearly did a spit take as she placed her mug down upon her desk. “What?” Was the girl really coming to her Principal for relationship advice? Not that she was any bad at it, but really?
Red ignored the sound of Uma nearly choking in favor of her own problems. “At first I thought it was because she didn’t actually like me like that. That she only agreed to date me because I had no experience with love and she felt bad for me. I mean, every time I tried to take our relationship to the next level she always turned away, how could I not think that right?”
“Hmm.”
“Except I finally confronted her about it and you know what she says?”
“I can’t imagine what it could be.” Uma genuinely means that too, everyone knows Chloe really likes Red, like a lot. Whatever is holding her back has to be rather significant.
“She said, I can’t kiss you Red, if I do then I’ll have to marry you.”
Oh hex, Uma should not have tried to take another sip so soon. This time her throat was too preoccupied to even get the word out so she thought it in her head. ‘What?’ Fortunately the lack of response didn’t matter to Red in the least.
“Suffice to say, that really threw me for a loop so I very calmly and gently asked her ‘what the hex are you talking about?’ And her response was ‘that’s how it always happens, Red. Once true loves kiss is shared it’s marriage and happily ever after. Don’t get me wrong, I really like you, and don’t mind at all the thought of marrying you. But we’re only sixteen, and what if you find out being tied down with me is not what you wanted. After all you’re all about-“
“Breaking rules and causing trouble?”
“She used the word freedom.”
“Course she did. Red, did you come to me for reassurance that wedding bells won’t start ringing the second your lips touch your Charming’s?”
Though she provides no response Red gives her a look that is actually rather innocent coming from her, cluing Uma in that she’s on the right track.
“Look, I can’t say that it won’t. She’s right, these fairytales feel like they happen fast. You two have all the makings of a fairytale if I ever saw one, and I was even there to witness Ben and Mal back in the day.” She pauses for a moment as she considers her next words. “But let me ask you something. Would that really be so bad?”
“I’m…not sure.” Red’s response is rather honest and genuine so Uma continues with the same.
“Red, these people didn’t get married because their fairytale told them to. It’s because they loved each other so much that the thought of cementing it in stone, or carving it out into the hull of a ship just felt right.”
Red really looked as if she was truly taking in what Uma was saying…for once.
“Now, to think you’ll be married so soon after your first kiss is a bit of an exaggeration. That kid is surprisingly sheltered for one so good with swords.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But, if it does happen some time in the future. I ask again, would it really be so bad?”
After a moment of thought Red offers Uma a small and genuine smile. “No, I don’t think it would.”
“Now go get that kiss.” Huh, why does that line remind her of something from years ago, royals are so weird. “And for the love of the sea can you please stop breaking into my office with or without me in it!”
“Thanks a lot, Principal Uma, I’ll see you later.” Red calls back as she leaves rather cheerfully, causing Uma to grin despite herself.
“Red of Hearts, I know you heard me.”
….
“Red!”
#glassheart#chloe charming#red of hearts#rise of red#descendants rise of red#red x chloe#uma descendants#small headcanon that Red actually looks up to Uma#which is why she always goes to her#but she won’t tell her that#shout out to Chloe thinking you have to get married after sharing your first kiss
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A @jilymicrofics for the prompt Retire, Jan 14th
Word count: 838
It was strange, after more than half a century, to be cleaning up her office for the final time. To carefully wrap her trusty tea set in yesterday’s Prophet, sift through the boxes of paperwork in search of what to archive, what to keep and what to finally bin.
As she sorted through an assortment of old assignments and Christmas cards from a bygone age, Minerva finds herself reminiscing. Once familiar faces and voices curled from the depths of her mind, a fond smile on her face.
The corners of her lips trembled like her aged hands when her fingers brushed along a script that gave her pause. Because even after all these years, all these hundreds of students, she could still tell whose penmanship this was.
The large letters crammed onto the parchment, like he knew he was going to run out of space for his sweeping t’s and large loops. The words slanting upwards as if wanting to escape from the paper.
She did not doubt that, at the time, that was precisely what he’d had on his mind, while stuck doing a detention assignment for her. It was supposed to be an essay, but in true James Potter fashion, he’d ignored the explicit instruction and instead composed a letter.
Dearest Minerva,
As we sit across from each other in your office, a pot of lapsang souchong between us, I am aware you are pretending to be cross with me. For the sake of posterity, I will pretend with you. Though we both know that they deserved every miserable second.
In the future, however, I will strive for a more creative solution. Even if I think turning their belts into snakes was quite a nifty piece of transfiguration. I will let you be the judge of that. Being the expert and all that.
Speaking of the future, I am supposed to write an essay about where I see myself next year. Which I could have answered effortlessly a fortnight ago. But things changed. Every paper is full of it now. And I refuse to sit idle just because I happened to have been born into a family that fits into their narrow view of our world.
One year from now, I will be as restless as ever. Using the privilege that comes with my name to help those who cannot help themselves. However, unlike before, I will not humour myself with the delusion that this can be achieved by mere words.
I will gladly put my wand with my conviction and face whatever is in store beyond the safety of these walls. Together with my friends, we will make a difference.
My friends and I are talking about getting a place together, somewhere nice and lively. We were hoping to travel, see some of the world. Those plans are on hold, at least for now. Though none of us will say it aloud, we hope that the four of us will be around for it.
So, we spend evenings talking about this trip, imagining places to go and things to do in the hopes that the four of us will get to go.
Hopefully, I will be dating Lily Evans. (Please don’t tell her I said that.) I think she is finally coming round to me. She no longer glares in my direction, though I can still feel her eyes on me sometimes.
Maybe I am crazy, but I can tell it is her just from the way it feels. Her watching me is special somehow. Often I itch to turn to her, to catch her looking. To catch a glimpse of her smile or her fluster. Just the fraction of a moment where I can believe she might actually feel the same way.
Or maybe not the same way. I would not wish this complete and utter agony on her. If she does come to fall for me, I hope she falls softer. I hope that I am not too blind to see and catch her before the rough landing.
That is only if I will ever be lucky enough to be enough for her. To have grown into a person, she can depend on rather than the childish prick (I am so sorry, did not mean to curse.) I used to be.
I am afraid I am running out of space. I could fill several more rolls of parchment (Which is not me asking for more) with hopes and wishes for the year ahead. Some more achievable (Pass my N.E.W.T. s) and some more hopeful (Snog Lily Evans. Again, please don’t tell her I wrote any of this.)
Your favourite student,
James Potter
Her fingers crumpled the paper where she gripped it tight, a lump rising in her throat. Her eyes scanned the content of the letter once more before pressing it briefly to her heart before placing it atop her pile of keepsakes.
Minerva pushed herself to her feet, in dire need of a break and craving a cup of lapsang souchong.
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The Loop [Heartaches by the Number]
Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: Someone please make it stop. This had gone on for too long...
Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
TW: DARK THEMES AND DEATH
Who knew the quiet would make you so uncomfortable. You were used to it after all. Most of your nights were spent with you in the quiet, and alone. Today felt different, those stares that you got once you stepped out of the bathroom...it was odd. Especially the one you got from your husband. What is going on with them? Were they really not excited about breakfast? You always made it the same every year. Were they just lying to make you feel better? God, you hoped not. Maybe you should have let Alfred prepare the meal. Nevertheless, you were going to power through this morning.
While you were slicing the bacon, an odd sense of Deja Vu came over you. Of course, you've done this same thing every year...but why did it feel like you just did this? Thinking you were having a blank moment, you turned around to see if there was already sliced bacon. There wasn't. "Today is so strange." You muttered before you went back to the bacon.
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"We have nine hours until she dies again. That is...if this loop repeats again." Duke said, seeming to be the only one who is trying to plan. Bruce and Damian were stuck in their own worlds. The last two loops really destroyed both of them. Jason was busy taking his anger out on a punching bag, and Dick was glued to the cameras.
Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, and Tim were the only ones who were listening to what Duke had to say. "The first time was a public event, the second, she was out in public. The third she left Gotham. Each instance, she was in a spot that someone can get to her or sabotage a plane." Duke then pointed to the cliche, big red button by the BatComputer, "The obvious plan is to put her on lockdown. Keep anyone from getting to her. No place is safer than the Batcave."
Duke's plan seemed to reignite the dying hope that had filled the room. "That's genius. This place is like a fortress!" Tim said then high-fived Duke. Dick had now made his way over to the table and looked around at everyone.
"We spilt again. This is a good plan, but he can't guarantee that it'll work. Half of us will stay here with Mom, and half of us will continue our investigation." Dick then turned to Jason who was wiping some sweat with his t-shirt, "Jason, what did we get from the previous loop?"
"It's obviously something magical, and it's only affecting us. It all goes back to the fight with the League. Something happened during the fight, and now we are trapped. What were we doing before we woke up?" Jason pressed his hand to his forehead hoping to remember. Each loop always made things fuzzier as time went on. "CONSTANTINE!" He suddenly exclaimed then lifted his head up. "We were going to contact Constantine before we woke up. He might have some sort of clue.
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"A movie marathon? In the BatCave? Is Bruce alright with this?" You asked as you balanced a tray of eggs, and pancakes down the rocky steps to the Batcave. After finishing your large meal, you were surrounded by Duke, Stephanie, Cass, and Barbara. Each of them begging for you to spend time with them in the Batcave. You didn't get the chance to agree before they were grabbing the food and leading you downstairs.
"Bruce told us to...he's taking the others with him for official Batman business." Well that was heartbreaking. You weren't going to spend your birthday with your entire family. You hoped whatever it was...it was important. And you hoped that they stayed safe.
Meanwhile, Bruce, Tim, Jason, and Dick were standing in the ballroom of the manor. Alfred was busy painting a symbol on the floor, "Are you positive this will summon him? This paint will be a pain to get out of the floor, Master Bruce." Alfred asked as he finished the last symbol.
"I'm sure, I watched Zatanna use it before. Let's just hope he's clothed this time." Bruce mumbled and the symbol started to glow softly then got brighter and brighter. Suddenly John Constantine appeared, a bottle of rum in his hand and a pair of rainbow sunglasses on his face.
"Well this isn't the Pride Festival..." He grumbled then turned around to see several brooding faces, "Aye Bruce! How are ya, batsy?" He asked, once again failing to crack that stone cold face, "One day...I'll get you to smile." John pushed his sungless up onto his head, then set the bottle down on the ground. If he was being summoned by Batman, then it was something serious.
"We're stuck in a time loop. This is our fourth time reliving this day. Each day, my wife dies...then we wake up." Bruce explained then stepped closer to John, "If anyone knows what spell or curse is on us, its you." He wasn't wasting any time. They had eleven hours left to find their solution. They weren't doing this a fifth time.
John rubbed his chin as he mentally went through any spell, curse, and cursed object that he knew of. He's heard of something like this before, but it was so fuzzy. Like something was keeping him from figuring it out. It was right there...it was so close. John's eyes then widened. It wasn't close as in his mind...it was physically close to him. Whatever is causing this is in the house.
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You were enjoying your movie day in the Batcave when you heard a familiar accent followed by several voices telling him to stay out of the cave. John made his way down the stairs of the Batcave. His senses had him on the move, and like a dog; He was following it. John stood in the middle of the Batcave and looked around. So many objects with darkness and demons attached to them, it was almost suffocating.
"John? What are you doing here?" You asked as you set your empty plate onto the arm rest of the chair. Your question was unanswered, whatever John was doing, he was focused. John kept looking around until he spotted the thing he was looking for.
"Where did you get that?" He asked as he pointed to the object. It was the same object that they had gotten from the League. You looked over at it curiously. You thought it was some fancy paper weight, but that seemed to not be the case.
"What are you talking about? There's nothing there?" Bruce said, confused. There was nothing there. Just an empty space. At least that's what he felt like he should say. It felt like someone was telling him what to say and how to react.
"There's something there, Bruce. Look." John said as he stepped closer to your husband. You glanced around at your children to see them all glaring at John. As if something was overtaking their minds. Bruce looked again, and saw nothing, "With the corner of your eyes. What do you see?" He asked, and Bruce used his peripheral vision. As if the most horrifying monster was standing there, he saw the object that John was talking about.
He felt his heart start racing and sweat started rolling down his forehead. Something was telling him to look away. To get John out of there. Something wanted him to ignore whatever was sitting there. This action was being repeated by the rest of the children. Except for Duke, who looked almost as confused as You did.
"You're cheating, John."
A sickly, and terrifying voice filled the air and just made the growing panic worse. John smirked as his entire aura shifted, "I'm the one who's cheating? I never knew there were rules to this game." He called out while staring right at the object.
"It's my game, we plan how I want. You're cheating, and now she suffers."
After that, the voice went quiet and you felt your chest get tight. Your knees gave out as you clutched your shirt above the place where your heart was. Instead of being surrounded by your family, or a loving goodbye, your family just collapsed to the floor and started seizing. Each one of them was shaking and foaming at the mouth.
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"Dammit, I lost them again."
"Duke, how are their vitals?"
"They're spiking, but it's fine. Any more stress, and they'll all go into cardiac arrest."
"We have to go again. Bring me the music box."
"They'll figure it out, John. We'll save them."
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Bruce sat up in his bed, he tangled his fingers into his hair in frustration. What the hell was that? This was the first loop that they were affected in. What did it all mean?
His thoughts were interrupted when you stepped out of the bathroom, "Goodmorning my love, are you excited for breakfast?"
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TAG LIST
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#batman#batmom#batmom imagines#damian wayne x reader#dc comics#dick grayson x batmom#jason todd x batmom#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#batfam x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne#red hood#robin#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson#john constantine x reader#batman x reader#batfamily#nightwing
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Alright as Baar baby would say 'I have a prescription for fluff'
This one is for @issilya and @nightfurmoon and all my dellamorte darlings. Let's get it before this 12 hour shift starts
Pairing is Nevecanis. Or I guess more Neve x Spite
It had started with a simple idea. A suggestion from Emmrich backed by Taash. If Neve was going to enter into- well whatever this was with Lucanis, then it should also include the demon bound to him. Not that the Detective minded at all. She had seen too much over her years scouring Dock Towns hardened streets to be discouraged by something so mundane as Spite. In truth, the idea thrilled her more than she would like to admit.
There was a certain rough charm to his blazing purple eyes and brisk words. How he always said exactly what he felt, even when it was uncouth. At least with him she never had to wonder where his emotions lay. He was the antithesis to her Crow, and she had enjoyed their few brief conversations immensely. Even if he called her Bad Hat and pouted when she told him he couldn't eat the candle on her desk.
But today was different. It had taken a lot of convincing (and kisses) to get Lucanis to agree. But now she found herself strolling the streets of Dock Town. Arm in arm with a very dashing looking demon (if she didn't mind saying so herself).
The sights and sounds seemed to distract him constantly. His head on a swivel as he watched their surroundings. A giggle escaping her when a black cat jumped down beside them from some hidden perch. Obviously spooked as it hissed at their intrusion, and Spite hissed in return.
"Spite, it's alright," she reassured as she placed a calm hand on his shoulder. Gazing at him from under the lace of her hat. Noticing his face go slack. Eyes softening as he slightly tilted his head. Contemplating. As if seeing her for the first time. Or perhaps in some new light as a shiver of anticipation passed between them.
"Want to protect. Keep Bad Hat Safe."
She sucked in a breath at his admission, before quickly schooling her face neutral and flashing him a small smile.
"That's very sweet, Spite. I like you keeping me safe," she replied as his face split into a wolfish grin. He was obviously pleased at her praise. Something shifting between them as his hand found hers and held it tight. Wanting to savor the connection between them as they stood in some busy back alley. The world continuing to move but to them, only their small peace existed.
But then it was gone. Both still too fragile. Too scared. Cheeks blushing as she dipped her head and pulled away. Longing stretching between them. Not enough to break their connection, but enough to keep them wanting.
"So um- Hal's," she said as she cleared her throat. Eyes a little too bright as she tried not to look at him. Shifting uncomfortably as she noticed the slightest droop in his wings. "I think you will really like it. Plus," she added with a flirtatious wink as his gaze met hers. "Lucanis never goes there with me. So it can be a spot just for us."
He almost vibrated with excitement as he looped his arm in hers once more. Both grinning as they set off for their meal. Happy for their time spent together. A bright future ahead as her fingers subtly curled around his as their steps fell in as one. Lucanis was going to be so mad when he found out where she took Spite. Even more so when he discovered the special candles she had Ashur lift from the Chantry. But she would risk it for this chance. For a special day to get at least a little closer to the demon who was slowly winning her heart.
#neve gallus#neve x lucanis#lucanis x neve#nevecanis#spite x neve#neve x spite#da spite#spite dragon age#spite#dragon age lucanis#da4 lucanis#lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#spite dellamorte#dragon age the veilguard#da: the veilguard#dragon age#da4
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OCT 4 - DRAMA
Play the actor. Lie and detect lies.
the composition of this one is gross but that's what this is all about - making something not great really fast every day and posting it anyway haha.
also if anyone recognizes what the middle one is from I'll give you a hundred bucks (Lie)
as usual, nerding out under the cut
drama drama drama drama
starting with this one because I literally just slap these in here in whatever order I come across them in. There's no rhyme or reason to it. I probably searched on "I" because I like seeing skills talk about themselves haha
at least he's trying to stop you...
Drama nicknames!!
the council!! I refer to my personal skills as the council sometimes haha, drama my love.
drama will break you out of the loop if all the others fail you!
ty drama, you poor thing. who is 'us'? Harry's the only one there, so is he referring to them and the other skills? harry and the multitudes that are drama? you go ahead and protect all of you from the fear honey
ily drama, they react sooo dramatically to being rejected
drama! nooo. what is there to say? these are different highly expensive ceramic boots???
drama! no!
I'm not certain what chain of events leads to Kim inspecting the boots later, but this is too funny
drama. please. honey.
he's so bad. an excellent lie detector, a fantastic liar, but also a compulsive liar!
At least sometimes he urges you to lie for good too.
drama ily. even if a wall of text is my idea of entertainment. i peruse fayde for fun, drama would die
dramaaa
I just love the wording of this one, it's so funny.
this one's right after limbic system tells you it's time to wake up. it's a bit melancholy...
you tell her drama, tell her about your and harry's many heads.
Sometimes he uses I, sometimes we. The other skills always refer to drama singularly (he, this one, etc.). I'm never quite sure if I should use him or them...
dddrama
denial, denial, denial...! but ty for trying
random but this is the maximum number of ssss... used by drama. 10 in a row!
I was highly offended in my first playthrough when I got this. I got it fast too (though not as fast as the sorry cop...) And I had 1 INT so I had barely heard from Drama! I was like, what's with this guy? I'm not boring >:(
drama's comments on kim are very important to me. I also have a rather dry sense of humour and cast off things I don't understand as joke. at least drama gets it.
also the things I would give to have someone whisper 'that's sarcasm, sire' to me. im not sure i invested my irl skill points in the right stats :,(
Like, I've got skills in my head and they can't even decode social interactions for me? cmon guys
Also! had some fun running the different language versions of Drama's name through google translate. It's hard to know how accurate the translations are but they are diverse! Acting, drama (ofc), art of drama, dramaturgy, mysterious (???), dramatic arts, acting arts, theatre, showmanship. I like it... gives a little more insight into what Drama's skill represents. Because he is so much more than *just* drama, and at the same time, drama is an umbrella that includes everything he's good at. hmm.
Another random fact: Drama calls you sire 91 times! (and my liege 16 times). And Harry only once, when you fail karaoke...
Other things I keep track of: he says sorry only twice! never says fuck. and only damages your morale on one occasion. These things are oddly important to me and I want to place them in a spreadsheet. Maybe I want to sort by most apologetic skill okay? Skill that swears most. Skill that calls you by your name most. I'm so normal about these guys.
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I really like the trope of doomed towns. Forgotten, little towns, with forgotten, little people, dust among the cosmos. The name of something on the tip of everyone's mouths. "Oh, you know... uh, that town? I don't really remember the name." Towns you return to, and you breathe them in, and you know every rock, every line on the concrete. And it's changing, but it's really not.
Almost like it's made to stay this way. In a decaying, sad way. Not like museum pieces, displayed for people who don't understand them to awe at them. No, this is rotting, slowly. It will sink into the ground.
No one leaves. No one goes. For some reason, you can't stay away. Your leaving plans are months away, and for some reason, you are still here. You wake up, and you sleep here. There is no world outside of this. You're like the little prince, wandering in a small planet, or like Sisyphus. Always the same hill. Always the same rock.
Mae comes back to the town. Almost like it was beckoning her. Almost like she can't exist without it. Shapes and lines that blur their words in the air. You don't know what they're saying, you don't know who they are. You eyesight starts getting better. And they are people, you aren't wrong anymore. Like you fit, in a couple of small pieces of a puzzle that's slowly disconnecting itself. Your friends are here, and they are not your friends. They changed but they laugh the same, they sneeze the same way. They cry the same way. Their brows crease when they play their instruments, tapping their feet. And yet, you don't know them. Maybe you never did. Hidden somewhere in the town, there are your real selves, just, wandering around.
Finding yourself is hard when there is always you around. Closed shops and abandoned factories. Fighting with your mom, not talking with your dad. Crying in Bea's car, yelling drunkenly. Everything is the fucking same. Just miserable people, in miserable streets. You are all nothing.
And it hurts, still. The end will happen, your world will be swallowed alive. And you'll feel it, deep in your bones. The shattering pain of holding nothing but dust between your fingers. And you will feel it. And it will burn. You hope it fucking hurts, you hope that the pain makes you claw out your hair, living in a loop of madness. Because it's worth it. Because then it's something, and whatever comes after that.
Sal moves to a town. You don't know anything about it. Other than the fact that your dad wants a fresh start. Your mom doesn't haunt you, she is too good for that. Her presence is a light touch that you feel. Cold, but welcomed. It's your mother, after all.
You stay in town. Funny little town. There's a church, and there are ghosts and blood on the walls. You move in when someone gets killed. You wonder if that's more than to it, than everything else makes it look like. Haunted ghosts by bigger things. This lurking, from everywhere. People putting on other people's faces, and the chant of a choir that wants to bring death to the town. Just this town. It's always this town. It will always be this town. You died here. You fought here. You walked piles of bones and something marked you. It will always be this place. It will always be this town. The same monsters, the same choir. Just different faces, with torn emotions and bodies missing. You wouldn't have it any other way. This is your town.
There's really no reason to stay. The girl you liked married a stupid boy. You run a shop that people come by all hushed and hands sweating, like they're about to be executed. I don't know why you don't leave. I don't know why you stay. Moralton is just a dump of people praying and lying and praying and crying and praying and dying. Maybe you're born here and that's it. Nowhere to run. Nowhere else to go. Once you are born here, you're done. The town never grows, never changes. There are nice moments, but you can't hide. Everyone is always watching. Mourning a son, mourning fatherhood, mourning yourself. Sidewalks that are so opaque because why would the sun shine on this fucking town? You don't know how to stay, you don't know where to go. All those little towns, are they all the same? Just little galaxies of little people, in tiny houses? People born and people staying and dying there. Is there no world? Is there not a sea? Why are you still here? watching the mayor's son sweep the floor, limping and with eyes red. Why don't you tell him to run away? Are you bad? Are you good? Why are you staying? Are you so horrible that you can't fit anywhere else? Or is Orel too good because he needs to stay here? What does it matter? You're still here. Looking at the clock. Just a few minutes pass by. He is humming quietly, and you just want to sleep. And when you wake up, you will be here, still.
Tiny little miserable towns, with little rotten homes. All people cannot go, all people cannot stay. They will never catch a train to go elsewhere, because there's nowhere to go. There is no land, no sea to cross. Just a little planet, flat and sad. Rotating on its axe, on and on. And you'll be here. Until it stops. And be there, still.
#indie games#character study#character analysis#moral orel#sally face#night in the woods#stephanie moral orel#orel puppington
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The veil.- Intro
Astarion x OC ( @wisterialynn )
Genre: reverse isekai.
Synopsis: Astarion falls in love with whoever is hiding behind the veil, and it hits him so hard that he can't forget him. Not even when Lynn starts a new save.
AN: hello this is the prologue of the reverse isekai story I've been working on for a while.. It's supposed to be a lighthearted story, mostly fluff and crack, low on drama, but low-key healing since both oc and Astarion have plenty of trauma. Basically domestic ff.
Also I think I will add some of the renders I made of Lynn and Astarion as I publish the chapters since I have so many - and are so cute.
Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sessils @roguishcat
Lynn couldn't help it. When something caught his mind, it was hard to pull him away, so when a new game came out and he downloaded it, he knew he was up for sleepless nights.
It was a breath of fresh air in his monotonous and grey life. It had been ages since he allowed himself to feel something that was not sadness or anger. He sat in front of his screen and he came to life.
He didn't speak much in his day, neither with peers or family since he distanced himself from his roots, moving to a different town, focusing on his work, but once he was knees deep in his little and silly game? He'd comment, talk, sass even, he truly came out of his shell.
It was something Astarion had grown to adore, from the moment Lynn had first loaded his game, and Astarion felt something.. different. He felt out of place to say the least.
Gale blamed the necromancy of Thay, saying it probably connected him with something deeper, just like he was connected to his netherese orb, but Astarion knew it was something different.
And once he was freed of Cazador as well, he couldn't believe his ears.
Astarion could feel that connection becoming deeper, the veil between the two coming closer and thinner.
As he fell for his Tav, he couldn't help but fell harder for him. For his witty comments, his giggles at Astarion's compliment, his humming as he worked and forgot his side of the connection on- aka his PC.
Astarion had heard everything, every comment for the elf, every sob he let out in front of the screen, and god only knows what other sounds coming from Lynn.
Only when Lynn started his second run Astarion became gloomy. The attentions he was so used to receive shifted, Tavgliatelle- or whatever name he gave his character that time- was different, so focused on Karlach.
It didn't mean Astarion couldn't hear Lynn, how he still commented on Astarion, how despite everything he was trying to resist the urge to romance him again. Astarion understood it was just a loop, the more he'd spend time at camp, the more he'd trying and break free of the loop, the more he'd fall for the person at the other side of the screen.
He prayed.
He attempted magic.
He tried to find that small door that could lead him to his lover, until he did find it.
Lynn wanted to say he loved Astarion a normal amount, just like how you love your favourite character, but there was something different.
Astarion had touched him differently than any other, he felt his chest clench, hurt, for a bundle of pixels, he had empathized so much with him. Astarion understood Lynn and Lynn understood Astarion. And yet whatever his heart was hatching was meant to stay there, just within him and his head. In his daydreams and his sweetest nights.
"Lynn?" A rough hand gently pressed against his back as the figure hidden in the dark kneeled next to him. "Love, let's move to the bed" The voice cooed as he gently lifted Lynn from his chair, admiring for a moment his features while they were enlightened only by the light of the screen.
Astarion was glad his vampiric strength didn't get lost, as he carried the man to the bed.
He couldn't help but admire how he laid peacefully. The serious smirk he had when he was hunched over the desk, was replaced with a soft smile as if he knew who was gently sliding under the cotton sheet with him, as if he knew whose arms were wrapping around his middle, as if he knew who cradled him to his chest.
His soulmate.
-
Astarion's fingertips gently grazed the exposed back, the new feeling spreading all over his body as everything was so new, so real.
All his life no man or woman he had bedded or kissed awoke in him what the man in his grasp was doing without effort.
"My sweet sweet love" He whispered as he kissed the man's temple gently, trying his best not to stir him awake.
He had truly made it, he had crossed the veil that separated him from his love, and now he was laying against his chest, soundly asleep.
The sigh that escaped the other's lips said it all, how peaceful he felt despite being unaware. Astarion liked to imagine that Lynn was feeling safe in his grasp as if his body knew he was being held and protected by him.
-
The man stirred awake, his body aching from the day before, hissing as he tried to turn, while his body was stiff from sleep.
"There there, sunshine" Astarion cooed as he gently guided him back to lay in his arms. "You need rest"
"I do.." Lynn hummed as his hand gently reached for Astarion's cheek to rest there.
It took him a moment to realize he was not alone, tangled to the cold yet oddly familiar body.
"What the fuck" Lynn jumped up on his seat, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, as if the Astarion laying in his bed was just a remainder of his dream, still stuck in the inside of his eyes.
"Good morning to you too, darling" Astarion chuckled as he gently caressed him. "I suppose that's human's way of saying 'oh my god Astarion, it's so nice to finally hold you" He teased as if sitting in Lynn's bedroom was normal, as if he didn't come from a game, but simply from his window.
"You can't be-" Lynn placed his hand on Astarion's cheek, trying to gauge at reality, only to be met with the cold skin again.
"I very much am, love" The vampire nodded smirking proudly as he brushed back his hair with his fingers.
"I'm still dreaming, that's it" The human couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief, as if that could erase the pungent smell of bergamot that suddenly enveloped his room.
"No, you are awake" Astarion quipped smiling and itching to move closer to shut him up with his lips.
"Astarion you are not real" Lynn said out loud, spelling each word slowly.
"I'm clearly here aren't I" He asked raising an eyebrow.
"Astarion don't be an idiot" Lynn shook his head one step away from facepalming himself.
"What if you are the one not real" Astarion clapped his hands together as if that was his gotcha moment.
"Don't start this" the human, still skeptical crossed his arms together, yet before he could completely close them, Astarion grasped at his wrist and bit the soft flesh.
The sweet taste of his blood awoke something in him, the way it slowly went down his throat thick and warm, made him dizzy but most of all left him breathless for the other man.
"That felt real" Lynn sighed as he pulled away his wrist, massaging where Astarion's lips were a second prior. That was real.
Astarion laid back for a moment, trying his best to contain the euphoria spilling from his every pore, he had a taste of divinity. Completely different from the taste of blood he was used to.
The way it ran through his body, it was real.
"I was trapped in that thing, god knows for how long, I am just a poor vampire in need of a cuddle" He admitted as he caught his breath and opened his arms to invite Lynn in.
"That's it I'm going out of my mind"
Astarion groaned. "IM GOING OUT OF MY MIND CAUSE YOU HAVE NOT HUGGED ME YET"
#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion#astarion#astarion x tav#lynn: updates☆#bg3 x reader#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion baldurs gate 3#astarion ancunin x reader#astarion baldurs gate#lynnlovesthestars#vault: lynn ☆#lynnstarion#bloodshift#the veil
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✎ First Meeting.
☆ SFW drabbles ☆
-> Pairing: God of Stories!Loki Laufeyson x Gen-Z reader!
-> (CW): loki is god of stories in this!! gender neutral, non-specified identity reader, fluff, slight flirting? kinda. i love him sm (T-T)
-> (TW): none.
W/C: 1.4k
╰┈➤ Lex's note: AHH, here's the post, oh god. based off of THIS ASK !!! i'd like to preface by saying yes, this will be a bit ooc for him. This is MCU, Loki Series!Loki, who is the God of Stories! I'd like to hope that he still stays mischevious still, so I tried to keep a bit of both personalities!! Also added some backstory for context !!
Uni was hard. Your lectures were hitting that stage where content was 'less fun' and more soul-suckingly 'boring'. Your latest assignment had thrown a spanner in the works of your mental sanity, and you were a few more minor inconveniences away from committing some sort of crime.
Kidding. Kinda.
What you hadn't expected was to be blitzed into some sort of gap in space and time after your friend begged you to come assist them with some help on their Physics experiment. "Science is fun", they said. "Helping your friends is the kind thing to do", they said.
Not when their janky little machine blasts you into a pocket that seemed to avoid space and time completely.
The Avengers had solved everything. Thanos was dead, the snap was unsnapped, this shouldn't be happening anymore... right? You were terrified, clutching your bag like a safety blanket as you stood on some invisible force, watching the space around you seem to shift between an endless loop of different colours and morph- the glittery mass swirling like liquid stars- or like a bad trip.
"What the fuck..." You whisper, prepared to scream, cry, throw up or lie down and die. Probably all in some order.
"You, there. How did you find this place?"
A voice that seemed to come from all corners of wherever you were, and also nowhere at once, sounded out. You flinched, whipping around again to find a strange handsome man sitting on some strange tree-like throne, wielding greenish vines that seemed to appear around you, branching out everywhere and whatnot.
"Are you speaking to... me?" You point feebly at yourself, amazed you're still conscious at this point.
"No, I'm referring to the nothingness of space and time. Yes, I mean you, mortal. Who are you, and how did you enter this place?"
His green eyes bore into yours, and bile rose in your throat. His tone made you falter, like a deer in headlights as your brain conveniently decided to shut down and restart. He couldn't be real. Why was he here?
"Oh my God... you're-" Your revelation seemed to amuse him as his eyes crinkled knowingly, the corners of his lips twitching up.
"Yes, little one. Loki, formerly the God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. Now, I appear before you as the God of Stories."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
꩜ Telling him about your world! :
After you both get over the fact that you both are coexisting somehow- Loki is still partially convinced you're part of something called the T.V.A or whatever- you end up sitting down on one of the roots of the tree, blinking up at him like he was some immaculate, divine figure. He so totally is. You figure the best thing to do is wait for your friend to undo what they did, so you end up telling him about your world. He's familiar with Thanos, and the timeline of his so called 'death'. He asks about his brother, and you watch him with a deep sympathy that feels almost useless. It's quiet for a long time, before you offer to show him a picture.
"Would wi-fi even work here?"
"Doesn't your device contain it already?"
You blink up at him, supressing a pained sigh.
"... Are you kidding, or... ?"
He, with a dry hum of amusement, nods for you to unlock your phone, and strangely enough it works. You want to ask how? but his look tells you that it would probably hurt your brain. So you relent, and show him pictures of his brother most recently from social media news pages.
"Everyone is kinda... gone now. I mean- ever since Ironman..." You trailed off, and he nodded, his gaze softening slightly as he beheld his brother. You felt almost awkward, wanting to give him a moment to process this before-
"He looks fat."
"Jesus-"
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
♫ Telling Loki about music, and educating him on artists:
You take it upon yourself to show this man music, after you had shown him the internet of your world, catching him up to date with all the important news and such. You made it a very good point not to scroll too far down in case he noticed something titled 'HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES AND WET DREAMS I HAVE ABOUT THE SEXY, MISCHEVIOUS LOKI LAUFEYSON-', instead questioning him on his music and artist knowledge. Sylvie had introduced him to what you both recognised as 70's and 80's hits, and you sent a silent thanks to whoever 'Sylvie' was. But you decided to catch him up on some of your personal faves- Mitski- neither of you spoke for a bit after he accidentally pressed 'Class of 2013', Mac De Marco, Lana and most importantly:
"Laufey. She's Icelandic and Chinese- and it's pronounced LAY-VAY. Like, Laufey. I just thought it was funny, cause... Loki Laufeyson, and Lau-"
He's already ogling you like a three eyed, two head sprouting, bat-winged monstrosity, but as soon as he hears the name, he shakes his head with an irritated grunt,
"There is no relation, nor will there ever be a relation. I am the God of Stories. I hold multiversal timelines between my fingers- I am seated at the throne of destiny. And you're asking me about some mortal like I'm supposed to... care?"
"Um. Okay." You smacked your lips together, cocking your head to the side with a hand on your chest as you search internally to find the words for a response without losing your life to a multiversal deity.
"So... I don't like that tone, first of all. Second of all, I just want you to listen- Just listen to her-"
Don't you notice how
I get quiet when there's no one else around?
Me and you, an awkward silence.
Don't you dare look at me that way-
You fed him her melodic song, your eyebrows raised in disbelief that he would be so dismissive after you brought out the big guns, and he listened to it, feeling oddly stimulated from this entire encounter. He was handsome, of course. But more handsome when he was quiet, when you could see his brain shifting and while you could see the way his eyes flit around in microscopic shifts, processing the sounds as they progressed.
Soon it finished, and he watched you, glancing down at the small phone, before glancing at you again, trying to find a response that didn't make him seem like some desperate lonely hermit.
"She isn't bad, for a Laufey anyway."
"Dude-"
"God."
"God-"
...
"How would I obtain this to have? Just... playing idly."
The smile that split your face was almost creepy with how wide it was, and he had to squint, looking away from the radiance and delight you emit.
"She's got more if you wanna listen."
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
✮ Showing Loki diverse ways to compliment each other! aka. sending him into cardiac arrest: (one suggestive line!)
People die, and habits die harder. But nothing could remove the pride and preening personality this God has. He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed some of the 'links' and images and strange looking messages regarding his name and face that were almost cleverly hidden on the page you showed him, and he relaxed knowing that people still worshipped him in other timelines. As they should. But nothing could prepare him for his first edit.
"What does that say- No, no don't show me, I just want to make sure you understand what that means."
Have you ever wanted to make a God go absolutely insane because of you? Well you'd be in luck. The wrinkle that creased his smooth forehead was not small by any means, neither is something else he carries, and he had to take a moment to process what he had just heard you say.
"It's a term of- it's a phrase of... endearment!"
"'We're going at it until Ragnarok happens?'" He echoed, voice almost hitching as he tried to maintain control of his facial expressions. How much time had passed? A few seconds? A few days? He was starting to wonder how much more of you he could take. We'll get into that again, later.
"'Till I remember the veins and twitch patterns?!'"
"Okay well, you didn't need to read that one-"
He scanned the comments again, the screen hurting his eyes- and his heart, but he did it anyway. Deep, deep down- in a small, lonely part that wished he wasn't stuck on a throne of Yggdrasil, he felt something of amusement. A peacock showing off his feathers.
A small, impish smiled curled on his lips as he sat back in his throne, exhaling slowly, thinking. Calculating. Watching the way your eyes greedily absorbed the sparse clips of him in New York and Germany.
"So... one billion people enjoy me saying 'kneel'?"
"Oh, don't start-"
"I'm simply thinking, mortal. Don't fret your pretty little head over it."
...
"You think it's pretty?"
╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: @jaguarthecat i finally published. i kept coming back to your ask, and i realised i might as well put something out there cause like, might randomly die tomorrow so why shy from it.
#lexluvsdrabbles#lex luvs loki laufeyson#loki headcanons#loki x reader#severely ooc loki#loki laufeyson#loki mcu#loki series#loki#loki drabble
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