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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

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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

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kaiyunsim · 5 days ago

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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.

424 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 2 years ago

Note

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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gatitties · 2 months ago

Text

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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the-curious-butterfly · 5 months ago

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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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skellseerwriting · 2 months ago

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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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therandompagesblog · 2 months ago

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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 ~

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 10 months ago

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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."

#tangerine x reader #bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train tangerine x reader #x reader

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sguidwards-bestfriend · 2 years ago

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Dp x dc thoughts and stuff

New Dimension, Who's This?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Okay okay wait what if ghosts sort of feed off their own energy supply or like humans make our own blood they make their own ecto.

But Danny is a halfa.

Maybe he doesn't make any or just not in his human form. So when his powers use it up he has to find a way to get more.

In Amity that isn't really a problem, but if he's not in Amity? If he's not even in his dimension?

...

Danny is king, he has been for a few years now. Lets say he's 20 something and he's still learning his og powers as well as his new kingly eldritch ones.

He makes a portal, goes in to check it out, and gets stuck when he doesn't have enough juice to make another one to go back.

Portals aren't simple, even a portal for something human at a lower power level needs a lot to make a portal in their own dimension.

Creating one for an eldritch being, the king of the infinite realms, to another dimension requires an insane amount of energy. so he's stuck... somewhere, with no energy source. Transforming back into something vaguely human looking is taxing so he sits on the ground to take stock. The extra arms, paper white skin and hair, and the many ever shifting eyes are gone, but he can still feel the fangs and pointy ears, his crown shrunk down to a broach keeping a cape in place, it's covered in a frost so cold the fabric around it crystalizes, and his clothing is an odd mix of ghostly regalia and a black hoodie. It doesn't look bad, but he doesn't know how this dimension works just yet and he doubts this will help him "fit in".

Thankfully invisibility and intangibility come so naturally to him it's just the switch that requires ecto, similar to transforming, once he's there that's where he'll stay.

He needs to find a power source, wherever it is he's ended up, so he goes looking. He finds Lazarus pits but they aren't bottomless like the lakes in the zone. Some are like a dripping faucet, sure it'll fill back up at some point but who knows how long that'll take. Others were artificial, someone ripped a hole between realities, probably a small one since the leftover feeling of a portal wasn't there.

Danny stays invisible for nearly 2 months as he searches for a way home, time can act differently between dimensions, in Amity he might be gone an hour or a decade. The best thing to do for now is to get in contact with Clocky and hope they can figure it out together.

While emptying another pit he hears an angry man yell "You said this one wasn't empty."

An obviously nervous voice answers, "It was full this morning, Sir."

"This is the last one we have any record of!" there's a crash that intrigues Danny so he pops above the surface to catch a glimpse.

His stomach falls when he sees a Vlad looking fruit loop tearing apart a makeshift lab in a cave. Equipped with the same ridicules cape and beard.

There is a woman sitting on a folding chair, her legs are crossed and she very obviously is done with whatever fruit loop 2.0 is doing.

He was expecting to find more than 4! If that's the last of the leaks he needs to find another source asap.

"We can head to Gotham." the woman says, still uninterested as she pulls at a thread on her sleeve. "That place has always been a cesspool for everything weird."

"Nyssa." the man takes a breath, no longer yelling he continues, "We've tried that."

The woman stands, she looks scarier calm than the fruitloop does angry. "No, we tried to find one. We couldn't search there cuz of the bats, but if there are a few diversions we could get enough equipment into the sewers and we'd continue our search unnoticed."

Danny doesn't care much about the rest, he needs to get to Gotham before they do. He just needs to find where that is.

...

Jason Todd came back from the dead a few years ago. [We can leave him at around 23, idk what age he was when Talia plopped him into the pits.]

He's angry ALL the time, it fogs his mind so much it feels like he's no longer in control of his body. He knows he nearly killed one of his brothers, possibly two, but they ignore it so he does too.

He hasn't seen his family much since he was... brought back. As always, something pushes him to take action when he would rather not.

This time it's a rumor amongst his lackeys about someone planning on killing Redhood. They don't know he and Red are the same person, so he was planning on leaving the helmet at a safe house and sticking around to give orders and keep an eye on things.

That plan falls through when a group of three come up to him, they think he spends the most amount of time with the boss and want to keep their leader safe, but don't feel they have that kind of relationship with him to show how worried they are. They push Jason to take Redhood and hide.

His way of doing things creates a pretty even playing field amongst the lackeys, other than Redhood himself. If he refuses he's not a team player, if he tries to advise against it they'll think he's the one trying to kill his own alter ego.

He has to go somewhere none of his enemies know of, but also where none of his allies know.

That's how he's ended up being shuffled into the manor by Alfred, duffle bag in his arm and a headache so horrendous it's hard to understand what Alfred is saying.

Jason had been at the manor for two weeks, in that time he'd heard of two territory fights by crime alley, someone emptying the Lazarus pits around the world, and the assassination attempt on him hasn't played out yet.

He was going insane with his family on him at all times. No matter what he did someone was with him.

He knew telling them he felt ill and didn't want to hurt an innocent if the rage took over wasn't the best idea, but he couldn't think of one that would work as well to get them on his side.

That meant, however, that he wouldn't be able to go out on patrol at all nor leave the manor alone.

Damian, of all of them, was the one that helped him. He still acted like the spoiled brat he always was, but he'd grown. He was calmer, not by much, but it took him longer to be set off than he used to.

It wasn't hard to convince him not to say anything, he still knew his brother after all he came prepared. An intricate knife from 15th century china he nabbed off a man with a sword collection that could rival Damians and a story of wanting to get back his cat that he had to leave at his main safe house was all it took to get Damian to agree.

With his needed entertainment (books and videogames), his cat stuffed inside his jacket (which yes, Emma did exist), and ice cream; they were making their way back to the manor at dusk. Jason froze, someone something was following them.

"Dami, do you have your sensor turned on."

"Of course I do." he puffed out his chest and stopped to push back his sleeve.

"Don't stop walking, check what's to my left." the building was boarded up. It hadn't been like that last time he was here.

"Don't tell me what to do." Damian caught up with him before adding, "The building has no electricity or anything in it, but it's weirdly cold."

Just as they both look over to the building something phases through the boarded up window. "Run, now!"

As they take off towards the manor the creature follows them. He can't hear it, no footsteps, no heartbeat, no breathing, but he can feel it. And he wants to fight it.

"It's still following us." Damian whisper yelled. then Damian answered a question he didn't ask. "We're half a mile from the manor, on the road with the ice-cream shop."

"You have your com on?" His need to fight this thing only grew.

"Just with Tim. We should never have them fully off, something could happen."

Of course, he knew that, he suffered those consequences. He was probably the reason it was so enforced... and why it was followed.

Suddenly the roaring of an engine and a black car with all it's doors open comes racing down the road. Damian jumps in first, with Emma stuffed in his jacket he can't just throw himself in so he chucks his games and slides in feet first, hugging his chest to keep her safe.

The doors shut and the car speeds off past the entrance to the manor.

The winding roads should have shook the creature off their trail. It's not long before the car takes them down a secret entrance to the bat cave.

There's yelling before he's even out of the car.

"You could have got hurt!" Tim is yelling at him, "I don't care who you think you are, you put our brother in danger!" The rage starts back up, he was here first, he was the one who could protect Dami not him.

"Timmothy I fight crime."

Tim swivels on his heels, "That thing wasn't human. How would you have fought it exactly?"

Jason can feel himself being engulfed in it again, he's vision going green and his whole body tensing. "Listen here replacement."

"I am not!" Tim turns back around, the steam in him vanishes when he looks at Jason's face.

"Boys," a calm voice echoes through the cave. "No fighting in the cave. Go up stairs to breath or finish outside."

Jason ignores Tim and Dami as he walks to the elevator. He can't look at Alfred, can't let him see him like this.

Once out from behind the bookcase he lets Emma down gently, then flops onto the couch. If they know what's good for them they'll find another way up.

They don't apparently and all three walk out the same exit, bickering.

The noise erases the effort he'd made to quite the pits, as he stands to shut them up the creature floats up through the table.

A terrifying creature with long teeth, pointy ears, long curved nails and a cap hiding a thin hunched figure leans towards him. As he jumps away the thing grabs him and latches on.

Jason tries to shake it off, but it's almost like it's stuck to him. Not physically, but there is something holding them together and it's not the creature.

Suddenly a bright light flashes and the creature turns onto a young man.

"Why's the ecto in this dimension so shit." It... he looks tired, there are bags under his eyes and his skin looks sickly. He's draped over Jason, at first he thought the man was holding Jason in place, but it seemed more like he was holding himself up.

Tim stopped in his tracks. "What the fuck?"

"Language."

"Sorry Alf, but uh... What's happening?"

The man mumbled something, he rested his head on Jason's shoulder, he could see the effort it took to speak louder. "I'm so hungry dude. Why are you the only liminal person I've come across? It makes no sense."

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

#eldritch danny #Dp x dc thoughts and stuff #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #danny phantom #jason todd

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eastwindmlk · 9 months ago

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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.

#jily fic #jple #jily #james potter #lily evans #minerva mcgonagall #jily microfic #marauders fanfiction

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battymommastuff · 2 years ago

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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.

{}{}{}}{}}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"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.

{}{}{}}{}}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

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.

{}{}{}}{}}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"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."

{}{}{}}{}}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

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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vamossainz55 · 2 years ago

Text

love is easy (love is kind) - carlos sainz jr.

a 4 + 1 : the four times carlos almost says i love you, and the one time he (kind of) does | fluff, no warnings a/n: this one has been brewing in my drafts for ages, i hope you enjoy it

the first time it almost happens is the same time he realizes, wound up in his drivers room before a race.

“what are you even staring at?” your voice bounces off the walls with an amused laugh, ripping his attention away from the window to glance over you instead.

he’s playing with his lips, bottom lip pinched between his index and his thumb as he watches you walk over to him.

the sound of your steps is nothing new, he’s so familiar with the beat that he would recognize it even with his eyes shut. for the first time though, he notices the way your hips sway at each step.

you’re dressed simply, how you’ve always preferred: a nice classic t-shirt (that is probably his) along with a pair of blue jeans.

it’s nothing new, he’s pretty sure he’s seen you wear it a million times before.

but his shirt looks better on you than it usually does, and your jeans hug your curves in a way that makes him feel wrong for looking. you look different, but he can’t seem to point out why. he can’t seem to pull his eyes away either though.

he’s too busy studying you to realise how close you’ve gotten, suppressing the little jolt his body has the moment your hands find their place on his shoulders.

it’s not the first time you’ve been this close. in fact, you’ve been closer, but in that moment it feels like it’s too much for him. without thinking, he instinctively straightens his back, tucking his feet a bit under himself as he scoots to sit further onto the bench.

if you notice it, you don’t say a thing. instead, both of your eyes meet as he looks up to you, eyes tracing your face as you smile down at him.

did your smile always look that sweet?

he wants to speak but the breath he takes is intoxicating, the scent of your perfume sends shivers down his spine. he doesn’t understand it, smells the familiar floral notes of your usual fragrance but all of the sudden it’s all he wants to breathe in.

“you’re zoning out carlos,” you tease, hand loosely looping around his wrist to place it down on his lap.

the touch almost burns and he feels like his skin is on fire.

“sorry-“ he apologizes, clearing his throat to try to get the overwhelming amount of air out of his lungs. he flushes red when your hand finds his hair, giving his locks a gentle tussle.

“you’ll do amazing, you always do” it’s words that you’ve said countless times before, the usual encouragement you give him every time you attend a race.

he always forgets how much he needs to hear them, up until the moment you’re there to remind him.

“i just feel weird, a bit nervous” he murmurs, breath caught in his throat from the way your fingers go to fix his hair from the same mess you made. once you’re done, you sit beside him. your knees brush each others as your leg presses against his.

“that’s normal, but hey, you’ve done this a million times before.” right he thinks. you think we’re talking about racing. your fingers intertwine together as soon as your hand finds his.

he wants to laugh, almost does, because at the end of the day, you’re still right. he has done this a million times before. he’s known you since you were both six, stumbling around to play in the park. you held hands the moment you got too scared to go up the rope, and your knees touched when you both tried squeezing down the slide together.

he doesn’t understand what’s so different, what’s causing the pull in his chest that’s making his stomach twist.

“hey, look at me,” and he does, heart beating faster.

you only smile though, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, and he almost needs to look away again to just breathe.

“just do whatever your gut tells you to,”

there’s a beat of silence and for a moment he questions whether you’re still talking about racing- or if somehow, in some twisted way of yours you’ve managed to read him, the same way you always do.

his lips part, words hanging on the tip of his tongue i think - i love you?

but before he says anything there’s a knock on the door. it startles him to the point where his hand slips out of yours, knees brushing away.

it’s rupert. “carlos, warm up before the race.”

he takes a deep breath and gets up, calling back a nervous ‘okay’ before his eyes are darting back to you.

you’re looking at your hands for a short moment before you look at him. this time you’re the one looking up.

you smile. “see you later?”

he nods, letting out a deep breath. “see you later,”

he doesn’t end up having the guts to tell you before you leave to go home. deciding to wait it out just a bit longer.

ii.

the second time is during the summer holidays — you’re on your usual mallorca trip, both of your families agreeing to arrange some of the days to stay in the sainz’s villa together for a little bit.

he hadn’t seen you since the race, not in person at least. of course, you both consistently caught up. whether it was through off handed texts or quick facetimes here and there, you both always made sure you could still catch up.

it’s not like anything’s changed per-se. your dynamic remains the same. sure, maybe carlos’ stomach did a weird leap whenever you picked up the phone, or maybe he appreciated a lot more the way your voice curled at certain words, but he kept his tongue between his teeth, a self made promise to wait until he saw you again in person.

he knew he was postponing it though, the fear of you thinking differently being overpowering. the only worst thing he could imagine than having his heart broken by you would be losing your friendship.

that’s why, even after months of deliberation, hours of laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying to figure out how to tell you, the moment you enter the villa, pushing your oversized luggage with a wide smile on your face, his mouth goes dry and he forgets every single word he wants to say.

you smile at him, eyes crinkled and a wave of your hand.

he sucks in a deep breath and smiles back, walking over to you with open arms.

confessing to you is a long forgotten memory for the rest of the trip. its easy to fall back into the rhythm with you.

he thinks its fine, you’re both fine, but things are always fine until alcohol is involved.

he should’ve known better.

you’re both pressed against each other in a club, music so loud that he swears he can feel it in his veins.

the night had taken a steep turn. one glass of wine with the parents turned into one whole bottle, and one bottle after dinner turned into two (and at some point, you really did lose count).

before he could even grasp what was happening you had already convinced him to get dressed to get to the nearest club. what if we don’t get to party together any time soon? you had asked.

and that’s how you both end up there. in a packed club with the base buzzing through your body. you’re dancing, back pressed against his chest as your hips sway to the music and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

he tries his best to move his own body with yours.

he steps to the right, before stepping to the left, but he struggles to find the rhythm, feet nervously moving side to side in an attempt to somewhat dance. of course by his clumsy luck he steps on the back of your heel, sputtering an apology just as you turn to face him.

you do so with a smile, and of course you do.

“you’re always so stiff,” you joke, arms swinging over his neck as you move closer to let some people pass. his hand instinctively goes to your back, sliding down to your waist to keep you in place. he feels how clammy his hands are; he can only hope that you don’t comment on it.

“well, you know I don’t like dancing.” carlos murmurs, and your faces are so close to one another that he can count each one of your lashes if he wanted to. you let out a small laugh at his words, looking down as your nose tickles his shoulder.

he can feel your breath against his neck and he can feel the bumps forming on his skin.

“I know, thank you for dancing with me.” you say softly before looking up at him again.

he isn’t sure if it’s the flashing lights in the club but for a split moment, he sees stars in your eyes.

it takes everything in him not to kiss you.

you both dance until your feet are sore, sing until your voices are gone, and laugh to the point where your cheeks are hurting .

the night ends almost the same way it starts, both of you sitting in the back of a cab, carlos almost slurring out his address to the driver. he says the name of his street before pausing because, what was his house number again?

“house number thirty-five please,” you say, finishing carlos’ floating sentence as you press yourself as close as possible into his side. the car is moving and your head is spinning and you just need to feel him next to you.

you miss the way carlos swallows, the way he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes gaze over you.

you’re saying something about the night, how fun it is and how much you missed having those nights together and carlos can only listen along, watching you scroll through your phone. he wonders whether you two could be like this all the time. just you two.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, three words floating in his mind. i love you.

he’s about to say it, the words practically about to drip off his tongue. before he opens his mouth though he sees you open a chat.

“jack?” he asks teasingly, the name not ringing a bell to him. “is that your boyfriend?” you often tease each other like this, but your answer startles him.

“actually,” you pause, looking up at carlos with a flustered expression. “I’m kind of seeing him,” theres a little twitch of carlos’ nose but he stops himself from reacting, biting the inside of his cheek to stay grounded. it takes him a split second to muster up the courage to speak, but even then he doesn’t have much to say.

“oh, that’s nice” he simply responds; the three words never end up leaving his lips.

because ultimately, he rather have a bit of you, than none at all.

iii.

the third time it happens is when he’s visiting you, in the heart of london, tucked in a bar’s booth.

he’s meeting the infamous jack, a curly haired blonde boy with blue eyes who shows his dimples everytime he smiles. carlos learns that he’s born and raised in london, grew up in a well-off family. he’s smart (like you), has a master’s degree in computer engineering and is now working on starting a startup, that no matter how many times he tries to explain, carlos can’t really seem to understand.

most importantly though, carlos learns, that he’s there for you. he lives ten minutes away from yours. picks you up in the morning to take you to work, and comes over every other night. he cooks the dinner, you wash the dishes, and he buys you flowers on the way to yours every thursday when the market is open.

carlos learns that jack is everything that he isn’t. and it’s fine, he’s fine. the bitter pill had been swallowed the night in the club. he had seen the blush on your cheeks, and the smile on your lips.

that’s why he’s surprised, confused even, that in that same night, as soon as jack leaves you both to go out for a call, you bump your foot into his with a guilty look on your face.

“what’s wrong? i like him.” carlos says, brows furrowed as he leans back onto his chair. you mirror the same actions as him, sighing softly as your arms cross over your stomach. you mumble something under your breath, but the bar’s too loud for him to hear.

“what?” he asks again, this time leaning closer. you look mildly annoyed as you run a hand through your hair.

“i said i think i don’t like him,” you look guilty again, and even through the dim lighting, carlos can see your eyes go over him, studying his expression, looking for an answer that unfortunately he doesn’t have.

“what do you mean you don’t like him? he sounds like he’s nice, treats you well,” he murmurs, this time hunching over the table to hear you better. his eyes bounce from you to the door, double checking to see if jack is anywhere near.

“that’s not what i meant,” you sigh in frustration. “i mean like- i don’t like-” you stumble over your words, trying your best to find the best way to say it. when you realise you can’t, you just blurt it out. “i don’t think i love him.” you say it a bit exasperated this time. his brows knit together and his head tips to the side.

carlos is quiet for a bit, and you practically can hear the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to understand you. he clears his throat, swallows whatever knot that is forming in his throat. “you’ve been seeing him for like what? four months? these things take time no?”

“i know these things take some time, but, i just don’t think i can fall inlove with him.” your fingers graze over the rim of your wine glass before you hold the stem and twirl it. “i mean- i don’t know if i’ve ever been inlove,” it’s not really a confession to any of you, you were twenty five, almost twenty six now and you had never found yourself in a long-term relationship.

“i mean, if you know, you know.” carlos almost cringes with how cheesy he sounds, and you clearly agree with the way you roll your eyes.

“have you been inlove?” the question floats in the air for a bit, and carlos’ breath hitches a little when he looks up to meet your gaze.

“i think so,” he’s been in relationships before, one long term one and several short flings. they never lasted, or amounted to anything fruitful. there was no bad blood with any, none of them just, went anywhere. but he wasn’t thinking of them when he was answering your question.

“how does it feel like?” your question is innocent, just like the way you smile at him before resting your chin on your hand. carlos can’t help but smile back.

“it’s small things, i think. for me, love feels like the first sip of coffee in the morning.” he had your order memorized by heart. a latte macchiato with a pump of vanilla and oat milk.

“or the smell of fresh bread when you pass by a bakery?” he remembers your baking phase. taste testing more than a dozen cakes for weeks. he swore he couldn’t eat chocolate for a month after.

“or the giddy feeling you get in your stomach when you tell a joke that makes people laugh?” you nod at his question, a small smile on your lips as you hold back a laugh.

his chest swells a little, really, but he doesn’t show it. “i think most importantly, love is easy. it’s the first person you want to text when something happens, good or bad,” he wonders if you know, if you can hear the rush of his heart beat.

“love is,” carlos stops, not because he wants to but because he notices the way the door opens and closes, spots jack’s figure approaching the table. he feels a clap on his back, prompting him to straighten back in his seat almost instantly.

he flashes your boyfriend a smile, watching the way he slides into the booth next to you and giving you a kiss in the process.

love is.. carlos thinks, love is… the way I love you.’

iv.

the fourth time he almost says it, the world stops a little. in a surreal type of way that he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

you and jack didn’t last. but he didn’t stand a chance after carlos’ small little speech. he felt sorry, really. he was a nice guy, but carlos couldn’t deny the little sense of satisfaction when you had told him you both called it quits.

none of you bring up your break up apart from the are you okay? question carlos had asked when he found out. you simply had given him a smile and shrug with a promise of i’ll be fine, and somehow he convinces himself to trust your word for it.

he comes to learn though, that you are fine. he sees it from the moment he picks you up from the airport, rosy cheeked and blurry eyed from the flight. despite that, you’re smiling, dimpley and excited as you hug him (you hold onto him for a tad bit longer than usual, but he doesn’t complain).

by the end of the day you’re both in carlos’ parents’ kitchen, quietly helping them dry out the plates. reyes is by the counter, sipping on her glass of wine with carlos sr. putting away the plates.

it’s easy the way you all move around eachother, the domesticity of it all. you flow between his family like water down a stream, fitting perfectly into the commotion of it all. of course reyes teases you both, how can she not when she sees the way her son looks at you? or the stolen glances you gave back when he wasn’t looking.

she doesn’t push it too far though, she never does. instead, she makes sure her and her husband are tucked in bed the moment the house is clean.

by the time you’ve both unwinded, you’ve decided to crash on the couch for a movie, both too wide awake to sleep just yet.

the lion king is playing, both of your favorites, and despite the stretch of the couch you’re tucked into carlos’ side. you’re flushed against him, and he can’t help but draw absent minded cirlces onto your arm, with his arm that's wrapped around you.

it’s a usual set up for your movie nights but something feels different.

it isn’t helping that he can feel your gaze bouncing from the tv to him. he lets it slide four times before lowering his head to look at you, brow raised.

“what? don’t tell me you want popcorn now?” he asks, knowing that he could always make you get it yourself. its not like you didn’t know the house well enough. not that he ever would though.

“no, i was just thinking,” you murmur, looking over at him and he moves a little to face you better, leaning his head against the couch.

“what is it?” he asks, reaching over to fix a single strand of hair of yours that was sticking out. you watch him closely, features soft and murmuring a thank you once his hand moves away.

“about what you were saying about love,” it takes carlos a moment to remember, and when he does his breath falters a bit. you notice it, but you continue anyways.

“i think i get it now,” carlos can only nod, prompting you to continue, “it’s like the feeling when someone gives you the last bite of their food,” you think of the ice cream you had shared with him over dinner. you’d given him the last bite- since he’d realised too late you had gotten vanilla at the last moment. you complained (of course), but still hovered the spoon infront of carlos’ lips.

“or like the feeling of your hand out the window of a moving car breaking through the wind” you’d always have the best car drives with carlos, driving aimlessly outside the cities, enjoying the quieter scenery.

carlos doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop from his eyes to his lips, and his world stills. “but ultimately, i think love for me is the feeling of being with someone, and feeling at home.”

you both don’t know how you’ve both gotten so close, foreheads almost touching as you look into eachothers eyes. the only sound in the room is the faint soundtrack of lion king which had been long forgotten by now. his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, and he lets out a shaky breath. he has to say it.

and he almost does, lips parted to speak, but instead of his voice the next thing he hears is a loud bark. you both flinch, a space being created between you.

both of your eyes jump towards the door, to find piñon, innocently turning his head to the side. carlos almost curses. almost.

“i… need to take him out.” he murmurs, getting up to grab piñon’s leash.

the first time he says it… well he doesn’t really say it.

it happens right after the race is over, after he crosses the line and pushes himself out of the car. the crowd is cheering and his ears are numb from Adami’s screams on the radio. he somehow can’t feel his legs, or his hands, or his face. he finally did it. he’s won his home race.

he’s smiling, so wide that he feels like his cheeks are going to shatter. climbing over the seat before he stands, raising both his fists in the air.

the moment he jumps off the car he’s running to his team. he hugs them tight, but they only hug him tighter. if he wasn’t running on adrenaline, he wouldn’t be sure how he would have pulled away.

he moves to the rest of the team, unclasping and taking off his helmet before he rips the balaclava off. as soon as the fresh air hits him, his head whips around, looking for you.

the moment he sees you its like tunnel vision, he runs to you, high with a mix of adrenaline and the thrill of winning.

“carlos-” before you can say anything else he closes the gap, stealing the next words from your lips.

he pulls away wide eyed and breathless, your lips still ghosting eachothers. “congratulations,” you murmur and carlos nods, lips parting and he wants to say it, wants to scream it, but he’s feeling too much that the words don’t come out of his mouth.

instead though you smile, shaking your head. he didn’t need to say it.

“carlos, i know, i know, me too.”

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #carlos sainz imagine #cs55

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