#has complimented my performance and my ring

[not-too-many-eyes]

A Study on Mesmer Jr.

(Also Known As: Nott is obsessed with the bigot autistic girl from the time travel gacha game and its her birthday tommorow so lets talk about her.)

(CWs: Ableism, racism, child abuse) I Love Mesmer Jr. Which isn't a secret to any of my friends who have had to listen to me talk about her at length. I cannot get her out of my head. I think she's fantastically written, fun to read about, and just an all around interesting character.

As such, I want to take a moment to pull apart Mesmer Jr, and consider her place in this story. To contemplate why she acts the way she does, and to connect to the themes relating to her character. I hope you enjoy reading this.

A Curious Impression

Mesmer Jr makes an interesting impression when you first meet her. For one, she immediately causes alarm bells to rings when she talks to Sonneto, one of her earliest conversations, who she says she enjoys talking to because of their "shared values" she feels the need to say that she would have liked talking to her more if she were a "full-blooded human."

Which is something that you see a lot whenever she's complimenting an arcanist, or considering arcanists in any positive light. Even if it's inappropriate in the context, she feels the need to assert her beliefs, to say that:

Mesmer Jr, Praise: As an arcanist, your performance really amazes me. Wish you were a pure-blood human.

Of course, as we know, Mesmer Jr is an arcanist. She's a full-blooded arcanist. Being noted to be from a very Important family, and even being implied to be more talented than most of her family in their line of work: (The Fallacy of Idealism)

Nobody is more talented in this than Mesmer Jr. Her bloodline gives her outstanding ability and keen senses, which makes everything clear and intelligible to her.

She's also startlingly obedient. She has no noticeable outward negativity towards what Constantine has ordered her to do to Vertin, despite it seeming to cause pain or stress. Insisting that this is the normal treatment given to patients despite Madam Z's opinion, and we learn Much Later that her boss had an ulterior motive to all this.

She's even noted before we meet her to seem like a:

(Open Sandwich)

???: It is the other one- the one with indifferent outlines that makes her look like a refined machine.

Evoking images of perfectly programmed robots and droids that do what they are ordered to perfectly without question.

Of course, in the same part this line is from, the game is already nudging us to be open-minded when it comes to interacting with her. As the first thing we learn about her isn't her personality, isn't her appearance, isn't even her Voice.

It's her abuse.

Dirtied Hands

Open Sandwich is one of my favorite bits of writing in this game. It creates this incredible tension where you just waiting for the bad thing to happen, the line about how the child labor laws were turned into paper to wrap the sandwich is wonderful, and I love it.

But it's also the first time we ever actually hear about her. It depicts her having a Sensory Meltdown. Caused by her family's uh- blatant disregard for children's rights, and exposing her to a patient at age 12 because her skill was useful for the treatment. The trauma of the event marking the start of her "nightmare."

Of course this isn't the Only Thing she has gone through at the age of 12. The entire events of Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien happened during when she was 12. She might of had even more traumatic experience before that, considering she went to SPDM, a school that we know Very Well for their child abuse, and she Certainly had traumatic experiences afterwards.

She Is a 16 year old therapist taking care of The Foundation's most "unstable" patients, after all:

Mesmer Jr, Suitcase Climate: Those insane people screamed and rushed out of the guardroom. They kept meaninglessly and repeatedly roaring. Then, their blood shed on the snowy ground. I've seen that a lot.

The Rights of Children Don't Matter when there is Scarcity. Her needs are secondary to The Company's. Her welfare simply isn't important for the Foundation's Beautiful Future. Only the skills and infromation she can provide.

Constantine even manipulated Mesmer Jr into telling her the plan. Purposefully traumatizing her so that she would become scared and anxious. She Asked her to help them, trusting that Constantine, an adult she trusted, would be able to help. Constantine just lied, and made her continue to treat these people even when the experience mind numbingly traumatic for even fully-grown adults.

As a result, Mesmer Jr has developed multiple mental illnesses. Most notable OCD, but she seems to hallucinate in her Monologue.

She's not exactly a healthy person, which really compounds how much you Don't want her to be a therapist.

Of course, it's not like she would ever seek actual proper treatment for it.

For many reasons.

For one, Reverse 1999 is not exactly a kind world to the mentally ill, and she herself is a good example as to why.

Proper Treatment

Let's go back to the first thing I mentioned about Mesmer Jr. She's a bigot, she's a certified racist to every arcanist she ever talks to. She thinks humans are the superior race that will overtake arcanists.

She's also ableist. Just horrible ableist. These two bigotries are intertwined in Very important ways. Her hatred of arcanists is informed by her hatred of the mentally ill, and is further informed by what she has been taught about arcanists.

Reverse has established that the way arcanists and humans are generally viewed is that arcanists are the more emotional, unstable, immature ones and humans are the more logical, stable, and mature ones.

Now, this is a stereotype, one that has been proven wrong time and time again. There is nothing logical, stable, or mature about being so upset at a 12 year old you think killing her friends is a good idea.

And similarly, there is nothing actually inherently wrong about being a weirdo, or mentally ill. For one, uh, everyone is a bit of a freak sometimes, and two, Mesmer Jr treats it as if for the world to get better arcanists need to fully disappear and be replaced with human rationality, but Madam Hoffman says it best:

(Chapter 6 Part 15: With Hope Rekindled)

Hofmann: We have all heard it, humans are more rational and arcanists are more emotional. Hofmann: Their sensitive to the darkness of the world, so they can easily become absorbed in their own emotions and ignore reality Hofmann: But, if we put a human child in the position of an arcanist, who always takes on the world because of his uniqueness, who is never understood for his talents... Hoffmann: Maybe he too will become impulsive, sensitive immature and unstable Hoffmann: And that's why it sometimes dawns on me that if we put an arcanist child in the position of a human being who receives enough love, education, and positive feedback... Hoffmann: These 'instabilities' might be controllable. At least enough to keep them from hurting themselves or others.

But Mesmer Jr really does believe wholeheartedly that being a "freak" is bad, and that being an arcanist is to blame for why she is one.

Mesmer Jr, Hat and Hair: Thanks to it, we are all freaks now. Haven't you ever blamed your brain? Haven't you for once vomited due to the sound or whisper in your brain? How naive and ignorant.

That being an arcanist is something inherently wrong, and as a result of that inherent wrongness, that inherent "insanity," they need to be controlled by humanity.

Mesmer Jr, Chitchat II: I can only stand those arcanists from the Foundation and the Laplace. After all, their insanity is contained by humans.

She believes that humans are destined to overtake arcanists like it's natural selection. That it's only inevitable that arcanists will be overtaken by a species that in her eyes, is logical and understandable.

Mesmer Jr, To the Future: Just like Homo sapiens wiped out Neanderthals, arcanists will be eliminated as well. This is not a prediction, but a predestined fate.

This is, of course, due to the systemic part of Reverse's world constantly pushing this idea that arcanists are Inherently more immature and chaotic.

Constantine and her family deeply traumatized Mesmer Jr and then told her it wasn't actually their fault but this Other Group that She is also apart of but Don't Worry it can Be Controlled.

Mesmer Jr: It's not just about age. It was never going to be suitable for me. Mesmer Jr: Unless one day all the arcanists are gone. Pandora Wilson: Then you and I will be gone, too. Mesmer Jr: Exactly, along with the source of my pain

However, Mesmer Jr's own mental illnesses and susceptibility towards being overwhelmed by others emotions does really mean that she finds being around highly emotional people Taxing. She also finds that the unpredictable of life and other people Tiresome.

She was friends with Vertin in the rest when she was younger sure, but even then she did find arcanists overwhelming and "scary," even when she wasn't in the full thick of it, she saw them being treated and found it unpleasant and painful.

(Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien)

Mesmer Jr: But I'm not interested in arcanists. They are all mad people, and we had to treat them after all...They looked scary.

Now, usually, you grow out of this. She's not Born To Be Racist Forever.

In a better world she very much could have, I dunno-

Be able to actually internalize that arcanists aren't actually inherently a harmful thing, but that her needs sometimes conflict with the needs of others and grew up with the tools necessary to understand that this is a fixable problem that doesn't actually need a whole group of people including herself to die to be solved.

Or, something like that.

However, this isn't that world, this world thinks Mesmer Jr is a good therapist, and that her treatment is humane.

So she's seeks to create stability in the world as a result of that lack of support.

Mesmer Jr, Hobby: What you see is the alignment and tidiness. What I adore is this orderly state.

As much as she understands that it's a sign of her own "franticness" that she does this, it gives her comfort knowing that she has things that she Can Control. That her life isn't actually dictated fully by things out of her understanding. That she has the ability to direct her life in a small, maybe even insignificant way.

Cause, she really just doesn't have much control over her life.

Press the Button

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: ...Achieve the function.

A lot of Mesmer Jr's idolization of humanity comes from this idea of efficiency and simplicity. She talks so much about rationality and "tidiness," but as I've already established Reverse is full of so many instances of "human insanity" so it's plain ignorant to ascribe this trait to humans.

Which, well one she is ignorant, and also racism isn't rational and Mesmer Jr was taught human supremacy of course it's not going to be aligned with actual reality.

Which is true.

However, I do think it's interesting these traits that she idolizes are not from humans but from:

Mesmer Jr, Clothing and Torso: Humans are like machinery, simple and efficient. Arcanists are quite the opposite.

That's who she's actually idolizing here, isn't it? She's not really idolizing humans, that's just the framework she was given. She's idolizing machines and going "Wow humans are so cool."

Her Udimo is a machine.

Not just any machine, but a machine invented in part By Her Workplace, and even when she was 12 the narrator describes her as a "refined machine." Indifferent and rigid.

This is the beautiful controlled being that she is seeking! The beautiful tidy, orderly, calm being that just proceeds with whatever order is given to it. One that has...completely no control over it's life, and what to do with it.

Because, traditionally speaking, Machines do not have the ability to self-determine. They don't exist as people with conscious thought and emotion, but as Things and Tools that can Achieve Functions.

I noted way back in the start that Mesmer Jr is startlingly obedient. She does what she is told, and encourages others to do the same.

She's glad that Vertin:

Mesmer Jr, 100% Bond Conversation: ...Anyway, I'm glad you gave up on those insane plans.

Before saying that she doesn't want to be forced to Lobotomize Her, and that she doesn't actually want anyone to end up in Artificial Somnambulism.

But she doesn't say she won't do it. Just that she's happy Vertin did "give up" because it means that she probably won't have to. This seems to be her general approach. Even if she's not happy, she'll do it, her wants don't matter.

She assumes that she has no other option and that her only path forward is following orders from her boss. That the only path forward is the one set for her. There's no point in fighting it so she's just gonna continue on that path, and others should do the same or else they'll get Hurt. Learned Helplessness.

Sonetto is similar to her in this sense (Mesmer Jr says so herself,) and Sonetto is shown to hold quite a lot of repressed emotions, and to deviate from the rules or what is logical when she feels something is at stake.

After all: (Is ABA Really “Dog Training for Children”? A Professional Dog Trainer Weighs In.)

We all know that we can feel angry without expressing anger. That we can smile when inside we are crying. You can stop someone from expressing an emotion, but that doesn’t make the emotion go away. A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.” When you read about a dog attack that came “out of nowhere” and “without warning,” it is because this sort of method was used to handle “problem behaviours.” Studies show that dogs trained with these sorts of methods actually have an increased rate of aggression, because punishing aggressive behaviour doesn’t deal with the underlying fear and anxiety that caused the aggression in the first place.

But Mesmer Jr, in contrast to Sonetto, who has an interest in poetry and curiosity in the outside world and has the aforementioned repressed emotions. Has no real distinct personal identity. She does not own anything that shows her interests, unlike her other coworkers who usually have at least Something on them. All of her items are stuff made by Laplace and exist unaltered. Even her cute little headband is a EM amplifier is part of the uniform.

She holds no control, no identity, no agency. She exists as a machine that someone can press the buttons of and achieve whatever function she needs to achieve at the given moment.

This is her current state of existence, and it's not something that's exactly sustainable. The cracks in this machine-living have been showing since she was 12. How many more do you think have been created now that she's 16?

The Foundation

Now, this is really depressing, but that's because Mesmer Jr is just a bit of a depressing character. She can't really get away from her job. For one, her parents are horrible, two The Storm means that the world is always on the verge of ending. Where else will she go?

But, as said previously:

A dog who has been trained not to growl is considered by trainers to be a “time bomb dog.”

Similarly, a girl trained to not develop any sort of identity will crack Someday.

I have no knowledge of what could happen next in her story, nor am I interested in theorizing about it. But I do find it interesting to think about.

[joaofelix70]

MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

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MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

[dulltoned]

Ablaze and John Dory

These are just some snippets of my Ablaze and John Dory headcanons that are scattered around the Trolls Discord.

Ablaze despises BroZone and he doesn't even try to hide it. The second they're off the stage after their reunion show with BroZone at Vacay Island all happy pretenses are dropped.

John Dory, the overzealous and oblivious bastard that he is, comes up to Ablaze and claps him on the shoulder to compliment his performance but before he can even get a word out Ablaze snarls and shrugs him off with a harsh "Don't touch me."

JD only has time to look affronted and open his mouth to retort before Ablaze stalks off to go throw his arm over Branch's shoulders and ruffle his hair- which Branch will not let John do- with a bright smile and an "Amazing as always, B." on his tongue.

Thus began the rivalry.

Ablaze and John Dory fight a lot, obviously, even if it's in the most petty ways that can fly under the radar. Ablaze will hold the door for everyone but John Dory, John Dory will invite every other member of Kismet except Ablaze out with BroZone, etc. One day, after John Dory does something else stupid and petty like give only Ablaze "constructive criticism" on his performance Ablaze just leans in, looks John Dory dead in the eyes, and says "I will be there for him long after you're dead in the ground." and just walks away.

And just for fun take a little snippet that will be written into a Familiar and New chapter or maybe even it's own story somewhere down the line:

John Dory is still talking but Ablaze can't hear the vitriol spewing from his bastard mouth over the battle cry his heart was pounding in his ears. Who the hell did this troll think he was to barge into their space and attack one of their own? Branch's shoulders are rising up to meet his drooping ears and he has this haunted and scared look on his face that only feeds into the volcanic fury burning through Ablaze's veins.

"I don't even know why I try with you," John Dory hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Branch makes this wounded noise deep in the back of his throat. Ablaze sees red. With an outraged snarl he lunges over the couch and tackles John Dory to the ground, uncaring of the startled cries that ring out around him. He reels his fist back and slams it into the bastard's face, relishing in the crack he feels beneath his knuckles. John Dory flails, unprepared, and Ablaze uses the opportunity to hit him again, and again, and again and a sick pleasure sparks in his gut at the sight of John Dory's face getting progressively bloodier.

Arms scramble for purchase on his shoulders, his vest, even tangling desperately into the hair at the nape of his neck but Ablaze fights against their hold and struggles to get a few more hits in. No one gets to talk to his band like that. He'll be damned if he sits back and lets John Dory open his vile mouth to say one more twisted criticism to his little brother. Branch was his.

"'Blaze!" Branch's panicked voice cuts through the rage and he finally lets the paws drag him away from John's trembling body with a low growl

[piftamere]

part thirty-four - one step at a time (wc : 1.6k)

you can hear the crowd calling your name from behind the curtain. the muffled roar of anticipation sends a shiver down your spine, and you take deep, steady breaths to calm your nerves. as you try to focus on your breathing, you see maki coming towards you.

she’s smiling but her posture betrays her hesitance. it’s the first time you’ve seen her since your visit to Kyoto. “hey, break a leg!” she says, her voice timid yet sincere.

you take her in your arms, happy to have a distraction from your upcoming performance. “hi! i’m glad you made it.”

she hugs you back and you can feel her relax in your embrace. “you invited me backstage, of course i came.” she replies with a soft chuckle. you let each other go and she leans against the wall. “so, how are you feeling? nervous?”

“yes but also so excited!!” you exclaim, practically jumping in place.

she chuckles warmly, placing her hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. “i know you’re gonna be great.” she reassures you.

“thank you.” you hum, soothed by her confidence in you.

“i should go back to my seat, yuta’s waiting. i wouldn’t want to miss the first song. i’ll see you tomorrow!” before you can react, she leans in and kisses you on the cheek, it’s so quick and tender that it leaves you momentarily speechless.

maki leaves, she gives you a thumbs up before walking through the door. you notice your nervousness has almost completely disappeared.

the stage manager gives you the signal, and with a final deep breath, you step into the spotlight. the lights are blinding at first, but as your eyes adjust, the sight of the audience makes your heartbeat quicken. you’re still getting used to the rush of adrenaline in your veines and the warmth of the projectors on your skin, but as you stand there, you feel at home.

the firsts chords of your opening song resonate through the venue and the crowd grows louder. you grip your microphone and begin to sing. the music flows through you and you let out all the emotions you’ve bottled up these past few weeks, pouring your heart out into the lyrics.

you spot maki and yuta in the crowd, they’re both smiling brightly, maki’s eyes are locked on you. even after what happened, her support means a lot to you.

the performance fills like a dream, each song a part of you you share with the crowd, each applause a validation of your hard work. when you reach the final note, despite your exhaustion, you find yourself wishing this would never end.

as the crowd screams your name, asking for more, you think you could get used to the feeling. it’s better than any drug.

you take your final bow, basking in the applause for a minute, and step off the stage, the echoes of the crowd still ringing in your ears.

for a while, you stare at your reflection trying to come back to reality. you feel tingly, excitement still coursing through you.

someone knocks on the door, you shout “yeah?”

megumi walks in, accompanied by yuji and kugisaki

they all congratulate you, yuji and kugi use less technical terms than megumi, but it still warms your heart.

“i don’t have any flowers for you since i thought- eh!” yuji is interrupted by megumi who punches him in the arm, quite violently to be honest.

“yeah, we didn’t have time to get you flowers, sorry.” megumi says with a smile it’s the kind of smile that means he’s plotting something, but you choose to ignore it.

after a few more compliments, kugi grabs a protesting yuji by the shoulders, whisking him away, out the door. “see you around!”

megumi and you are left alone, you look at each other and suddenly you don’t know how to stand or where to put your hands. you awkwardly lean against a table, crossing your arms, he stands still.

“can i say something?” he asks, looking down at his hands.

you follow his gaze and you notice a small pinkish scar on his palm.

you know how he got it. when it happened you used the incident as an opportunity to flee. looking back on it, a part of you regrets running away. even if it seemed like the only option back then, you wonder what would’ve happened if you stayed to talk it out. would it be resolved? would there still be this tension that seems to make the air harder to breathe when you’re alone together?

“um, sure.” you reply hesitantly.

“i know we still have a long way to go, but thank you for letting me be here for you tonight. it can’t be easy for you.” he looks up into your eyes. “does it mean you’ve decided you want to forgive me?”

you’re thankful you decided to lean on something. you’re not sure if you could stand alone while having this conversation. you take a deep breath, his eyes in yours are intense, too hopeful. the pressure they put on you is too much, you have to look away.

“i really didn’t deserve what you did, and i know you want to move past this and i want to as well… it’s just hard. i loved you so much, i still love you, and that’s why it fucking hurt. i’m not saying all of this to make you feel bad, i know you already do. it takes a lot of strength to forgive. but i’m getting there, slowly. i think.”

“you are?” he sounds hopeful now too.

you shrug, lips tightening into a thin line, there’s a lump forming in your throat. you chuckle awkwardly to try to lighten up the mood. “it’s up and down. sometimes i really want to punch you.“

“i can be your punching bag if it helps you.”

“i don’t have it in me to be mean to you anymore. i tried… it didn’t help.” you pause, taking a deep breath to keep the tears away. “you still mean everything a lot to me.”

“you mean a lot to me too.”

there’s a moment of silence, it’s a little awkward still. staring at the ground, you shift your weight on your feet, questioning if you want to say what you’re about to.

“megumi, about what I said…” you sound uneasy. you feel it too.

“forget about it.” he shakes his head

“no, i can’t. let me apologize please. i shouldn’t have compared you to your father, i’m sorry.”

“i did and said a lot of things i had no right to say or do to you. and in a way you were right. i was selfish and a coward. traits i’ve always resented my father for having. i never want to be like that again. thank you… for making me realize that.”

you’re both silent, you have a lot to think about. the air is still heavy but it’s breathable now.

"i want to be friends again, i think i’m ready. but you have to be honest with me, megumi. no more secrets."

"absolutely. no more secrets. i promise." he smiles widely, making his eyes wrinkle.

behind megumi, you notice gojo leaning against a wall, he’s on his phone, trying not to listen in on your conversation.

megumi follows your gaze, “i think someone’s waiting for you, i’ll see you back home.”

you tell him you won’t be home late and walk over to satoru. he’s hiding something behind his back.

“congrats.” he smiles, handing you a large bouquet of flowers.

“oooh they’re pretty!! thanks satoru.” you inhale deeply, before looking up at him with a grateful smile. “they smell so good!”

he chuckles, a hint of nervousness in his laugh. “only the best for you.”

you hug him tightly, careful not to crush the flowers.

his hold on you is strong, secure. he hesitates for a moment, then whispers. “is everything ok? i saw you talking with fushiguro…”

you pull back slightly, enough to look into his eyes but still be in his embrace. “hmhm, it’s going to be ok, thank you for asking.”

his eyes search yours, concern apparent in his features. “you sure?”

you nod, smiling softly, “yeah, there’s some things we needed to say but it’ll be ok.”

as he lets you go, he exhales, relief evident in his expression. “good.”

stepping away, you chuckle, your tone teasing. “aw… you were worried about me?”

he turns his head, pouting. “yeah, you don’t have to be an ass about it.”

you can tell by the way the corner of his lips tug slightly upward that he’s not really offended, still you choose to indulge him. the pout is obviously fake, but the blush that crept up his neck isn’t.

you laugh and he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “i’m sorry ‘toru. thank you. you don’t have to worry so much, you know. I can handle myself.”

he grins, turning to face you. “i know, but i can’t help it.”

you give him a playful nudge. “you big softie.”

“only for you.” he retorts, his smile is mischievous but there’s a glimpse of honesty in his eyes.

you shake your head, amused. placing a hand on his shoulder, you say, “i have to go. see you soon, ok?”

“see ya.” he replies, waving goodbye. as he watches you leave, he can’t help but feel his heart ache a little, hoping you’d stay a little longer with him.

[tl:dr : you see maki before going on stage, the concert goes really well. then after the concert you see megumi, you decide to be friends again. gojo’s backstage, he gives you flowers.]

fun facts :

the picture of y/n drunk on the floor dates back to when she first moved in with megumi and lost a drinking game trying to get to know his friends

megumi bought the cake earlier in the day but he couldn't leave it at home in case y/n found it, so he left it at yuuji's place

author's note

cute megumi is back ^^

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part thirty-four - Next

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

taglist : closed :) to be added leave a comment on the masterlist of the smau

@lysaray @swissy23 @d6za1 @minzxec @sleepy-waffle @saturn-alone @dreamxiing @selysixn @reiluvr @lavender-hvze @mellozhi @cre8inghavoc @ichorstainedskin @inosfavgf @k4sss133 @taelattecookie @cheese-enjoyer9471 @wateronlyhaha @sonicsolos @bkgs-girl @colortheoryrocks @kinkybandages @woahguy278 @cuteandohsodeadly @weewooooweew @peqch-pie @myguumi @r0ckst4rjk @jun1p3rlol @juliiizh @seikamuzu @theweirdfloatything @h3xi2g0n3 @xbarrjallenx @0range-juiceee @xenop0p @reagan707 @eyes-ofhell @theresmeaninginthat @emlient @danhengswifey @cherrypieyourface @bitchycloudstrawberry @ofherchaos @shanye1112 @eusaevi @fuyuzemi @cupkiki @lvtilzs @abiiebibie

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[whoisneo404]

HockeyPlayer!Nick x FigureIceSkater!reader

• The two of you met by accident. He had a match in the ring next to yours, when he entered, he didn’t notice the whole place was empty until he heard a sharp blade hit against the ice, and when he looked up from his phone, in the ice were you jumping and spinning around. He was dumbfounded, never has he seen a guy look this graceful on ice, it was always pushes and shoves when he was on the ice.

• When you finish your program you pose on the middle of the ring, when you hear a ‘Wow…’. Nick who was still standing there admiring you got a bit shy of his natural reaction. Then, to make the situation more awkward he added. “So… this is not the jockey ring, right?” you laughed, and pointed the direction to him, and when he was about to leave, he complimented your performance and shyly asked if you trained there usually.

• From there, your relationship bloomed, you told him about your competition next weekend expecting nothing of it, but he actually went, and cheered and clapped harder than anyone. No shame at all.

• Your flirting consisted in mocking each other for their sports. What do you mean you can score a point but not do a double axel? Or, what do you mean you can spin on ice but can’t hit the puck?

• Lots of dates around skating. Him teaching you how to play hockey and you teaching him to do simple movements to do in pairs.

• You always go to his matches and wear his spare jersey (he loves that, he goes crazy when he sees his name on your back) to cheer him up. You become good friends with the rest of the team (specially his brothers).

• He always goes to your tournaments (no matter if they are on different states) and always arrives with a bouquet of flowers or a box of your favorite sweets (sometimes both).

• He loves to tie the laces of your skies.

• He loves to put his helmet on you because it fits a bit big and he thinks its cute.

• He will make you watch the matches of his favorite team and you eventually learn a few names and recognize a few faces.

• You make him watch the performances of your favorite figure skaters (mine if Yuzuru Hanyu btw, just wanted to say that lol) and he eventually learns the name of a few movements. He still doesn’t get how they (and you) spin so many times in the air.

• He loves to help you choose your outfits for the tournaments; he is very good at it.

• If he loses a match, he is very upset and needs lots of cuddles and kisses. Every time his coach is rude to him, he will bury his face in your neck and mumble about how they don’t appreciate him.

• He loves when you cheer for him and take photos of him. He won’t say it, but he melts when you show him off.

• When he gets injures, he is very stubborn but listens to you when you tell him he needs to rest. On the other hand, you still want to skate even when injured. So, he literally has to restrain you in bed so you can recover, he will lay on top of you (being careful to not squeeze the injured part of your body) so you can’t get up.

• Is very sassy and annoyed when the judges are biased or didn’t score to his liking (he think you should win every single competition you enter). Surprisingly is good friends with your coach (Nick bough them cookies and now they are besties).

• Once he bought two new pair of skates (one for him and one for you) and exchanged the laces from one of them, now you have a skate with white laces and he has one with black ones. He says that is to carry each other every time you step on the ice (which is when the both of you train and give your best). “It’s my lucky charm… and my mantra, when I see it, it reminds me that I can’t punch the other players in the face because you don’t like violence.”

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[superblysubpar]

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'Rari Go Fast, I Know You Like It

rich!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Steve takes you for a ride after closing a big deal at dinner. | my blog and this fic are 18+ Only, NSFW

the song: seduce by russ

words: about 3,200

warnings: SMUT (a little flirting/teasing at a handjob/fingering - both under the table in a very public setting / roadhead while Steve is driving - reader performing / car sex - parked with no one around / PIV intercourse - creampie )

A/N: sorry if there's any formatting issues! I'm in the car! 💛

So, it was a little fun playing pretend. 

The chill of pearls against your heated skin, resting in the dip of your collarbones and worth an amount that isn’t even fathomable to you. A Chanel bag with Steve’s credit card hot from use nestled inside and a bottle of perfume in your backseat as the tires come to a halt in front of the valet. Expensive lace with straps and buckles - shiny, pretty things to tease your boyfriend with. Not to mention the color, cherry red, sour and sweet. Devilish beneath a respectable and pristine navy cocktail dress that hugs you in all the right ways.  

Heels clicking against the pavement, as you’re helped out of your car by not a man in a maroon jacket, but Steve. Dress slacks that fit him perfectly, a blazer and button down shirt that’s all worth more than your car. His shirt unbuttoned to show a tasteful amount of chest hair that has your mouth watering. Shiny shoes and a leather belt, a watch on his left wrist that stops halfway up to his hair, seeming to remember not to mess it up at the last minute. The one remaining piece of your Steve - hair still too long, but the carmel locks styled and gelled to look a little more purposeful than his normal mess. His hand rests on your lower back as he kisses your cheek and whispers, “Thanks for this, angel.”

Your perfectly manicured fingers slip into his, squeezing your thighs together as the cool metal band of his class ring stings your skin. Sue you, so you're a little aroused by your boyfriend dressed up for the part too. His thick fingers take over yours as he tugs you toward the hotel entrance. Murmuring in his ear as you slip through the held open door and into your role, “Anything for you, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s lips twitch, moss and cinnamon glinting in his eyes as they dance over your face. Testing the line, his gaze dips for only a second to the neckline of your dress, curving over your breasts in a simple sweetheart neckline and he blows a breath out through his nose. Glancing over his shoulder before his hand lands on the line of almost distasteful. His pinky and ring fingers gently rubbing back and forth, falling deeper towards the curve of your ass as he scolds, “Behave, baby.”

“Steven!” A voice calls, interrupting you both with a tone that’s deep and booming. 

Steve’s fingers scratch at your back, shoulders rolling as he straightens and mumbles, “Showtime.” Both of you turning with wide smiles, Steve extends his hand, “Jack! Bruce!”

It’s all firm handshakes and introductions of wives and slapping shoulders and you hate that it’s doing something to you. The wives complimenting your outfit, your makeup, the sharing of  town gossip that they include you in - asking you questions and your opinions on latest trends. It makes a bittersweet taste linger on your tongue when you get a little trill of excitement running through you from it all. 

Sitting next to Steve, legs tucked under the pristine white tablecloth. Table settings with more forks than you knew what to do with. His fingers buzz over the skin on the inside of your thigh as the waiter holds a bottle of red out for your approval. Steve's fingers squeezing and staying put when you nod and Bruce nods his approval. "Your wife has good taste, Steven!"

"Oh, I'm not…" you begin and he waves you off. 

Bruce winks at Steve, "Harrington's just taking his time picking out the perfect ring, right?"

Steve smiles into his wine glass, nodding. Another squeeze of his hand as he roams a little higher. Your thighs close around his fingers and his smile grows a little around the sip. 

Steve's hand doesn't leave its new home while the business discussion begins. Steve talks animatedly, hitting all of his points with a passion and confidence you've never seen in him. The men twice his age listening intently and you're incredibly aroused watching it all unfold before you. 

It's a part, you know it is. 

But is it? Steve eyes you cooly as your thighs press together in search for friction when he finishes the deal. Hands shook and promises of things signed come Monday morning. His thumb brushes your skin higher, his shoulders rolling back as he hits lace. Laura, Bruce's wife, asks you questions and you keep your attention on her, your hand trailing up Steve's thigh. You nod and reply, "Oh yes I'd love some cream-" palming Steve's quickly hardening cock as he chokes on his drink as you finish your sentence, "For my coffee."

Steve removes his hand from your thighs and pulls your hand up from his lap, kissing your palm and mischief glinting in his eyes as he rests your enclosed hands on the table. Laura talks your ear off about future get togethers, help with office parties and bridge clubs. Steve's thumb brushes your knuckles as you offer to send her your lemon bar recipe, lifting your fingers for another kiss when you turn bashful at her compliment of your new pearl necklace. The boys talk shop, plans for golf on Sunday and promises of scotch and whiskey tomorrow evening. 

When you walk out hand and hand with Steve next to Bruce and Laura, you're beginning to forget your initial resistance to the evening. Why didn't you think you'd have fun? Were you playing a part?

Laura gives you a hug and Steve whistles as Bruce motions to the Ferrari parked in his VIP spot. Bruce looks between the pair of you and the car before a wolfish grin spreads across his face.

“Take her for a spin, son.” Bruce winks, dropping the key into Steve’s palm. 

“Sir, I-” Steve’s argument is waved away and Bruce puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder, patting it roughly. 

“Just a little taste - enjoy it! You're one of us now, need another Ferrari man. Jack and his Porsche.” Rolling his eyes as he starts to walk back into the hotel, arm wrapping around his wife who smiles widely at you. He calls over his shoulder, “Bring it back for breakfast! We’ll play tennis after, right honey?”

Laura beams up at her husband, squeezing the arm that sits around his waist. He nods to the pair of you, Laura waggles her fingers and they disappear inside again. 

Steve lets out a surprised laugh, fingers covering his mouth as his eyes widen in their gaze at you. He’s whispering behind his hand, “Crazy, this is crazy…this is…”

Your eyes bounce between the car and Steve’s hand holding the key. A familiar ache in your stomach blooming from the thoughts swirling in your head and you step closer. You've been wanting him alone since you stepped out of your car and this was your opportunity to finally seduce Steve for a change. 

Your lips ghost over his cheekbone, whispering in his ear and relishing in the shiver that runs through his body when the words leave your mouth, “Take me for a ride, Stevie?”

Steve's tongue juts out over his lip, pupils taking over any color in his eyes as he nods and practically races to open the door for you, "Yeah, yeah okay."

Steve closes your door after you slip in, running around the hood and pausing abruptly in front of the car. He licks his lips again, his chest heaving and he finally breaks - the hand that’s been aching to run through his hair finally doing so. 

"Baby," he closes his eyes, blowing out a breath before opening them again. A mixture of a laugh and groan tinging his words, "Shit, I wish I had a camera. You look so sexy in this car."

Your body heats at his words, ducking your head down as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Stifling your giggle, you nod your head backwards, motioning him with your fingers, "Come on, loverboy."

Steve's grin could melt the ice in the furthest reaches of the globe. He hops in the driver's seat excitedly, hands rubbing the black leather of the steering wheel with eager eyes. He adjusts the rearview mirror. And then, he puts his hand behind your head on the seat, turning to glance over his shoulder as he backs out of the luxury parking space. 

Fuck, this is not gonna last long. 

Steve looks like he's made for this car, sitting back comfortably in the tan leather seat. The radio playing Queen and his lips quirk up on one side, nudging the dial louder. Flashes of the city lights hit the pair of you as you drive further out of Indianapolis. Oranges and gold illuminating his face as the wind whips your hair. City noises of horns, people yelling, and the clanking of alleyways being used by closing restaurants fading away quickly into crickets, to a peace that’s not quite silent but almost. Watching him closely as the speedometer slowly climbs, Steve’s face is illuminated by the soft glow of the dash. His eyebrows raise as the meter hits 80, the car making not a single noise of protest like yours would as he shifts gears smoothly. 

That’s when his lips twist into a smirk, his thigh flexes as he pushes the pedal harder, eyes dancing between the meter and the road. You can’t take it anymore, pressing the lock of your buckle and Steve’s eyes jump over to you at the noise. 

“Baby, what are you-”

You’re leaning carefully over the console, fingers gripping his seat as you kiss just behind his ear, nose trailing down his neck as he moans, sentence breaking off. Your fingers trail up the inside of his pant leg, lips smiling against his skin as you feel him already hard. 

“I-I can pull over and-”

You speak into his cheek, fingers on his belt now, “Keep driving.”

“Oh fucking hell.” He blows out his breath, a whine bubbling out of him as you drag the zipper down slowly. 

Your thighs are coated, slick and sticky since he closed the deal earlier. Steve lifts his hips as you maneuver his length free of his boxers and slacks. His foot presses to the pedal harder, bucking his hips into your hand at the feeling of your touch. 

Not giving him a single ounce of time to prepare further, your mouth slips over the swollen tip that's already leaking for you. One of his hands finds your hair, thigh under your palm flexing as he no doubt presses the pedal even harder as you dip lower. 

It’s messy, not as precise as you’d like to be, tongue swirling and spit pooling. Steve’s fingers grip your hair a little meanly, a little too rough and when he yanks your roots when he hits the back of your throat you moan around your sucking.

“Fuck, shit baby, you’re,” he gulps for air, trying to find his words and keep his eyes on the road. Voice shaking, filled with shock and confidence in the same breaths, “You like sucking the bosses cock, huh?” Moaning in agreement that's loud enough for the radio to be drowned out as you nod around your bobbing. 

Your new lingerie is ruined, you’re dizzy with Steve’s attitude, with the dinner, with the deals, with the fucking car. Tongue swirling around his tip, flicking the slit and collecting more precum and Steve jerks his hips up again. Your fingers grip his thighs, console digging into your knees and you can’t take it anymore, one hand reaching down and rubbing furiously at your swollen clit. 

Steve practically sobs as his eyes dart over to your hips rolling against your hand. Choking on his words,  “Oh my god, are you - christ babe,” as your nose hits the patch of dark hair at his base when you take him even deeper.

Pulling up his length slowly , lips swollen and wet as they drag against him. Your tongue traces the vein that runs along his shaft, your eyes glance up at him under fluttering lashes. Steve’s eyes are closed and your mouth leaves him with a sudden and lewd pop. Your head whips up to see you’re now going well over 100, moving into the gravel that starts the ditch on the side of the road. 

“Steve!”

“Wha-Shit! Fuck!” His eyes open, glossy and dazed and he straightens, blinking rapidly. His hands find the wheel, responsibly at ten and two, correcting the car’s trail into the lane again. 

Steve’s cheeks are red, chest heaving as his eyes dart left to right too quickly. He turns the wheel suddenly, the car spinning into a small clearing. Surrounded by trees and hidden from the road, he slams it into park and turns the lights off. 

“I need you right now,” he grabs at your jaw greedily, hair and eyes crazy and you pull away from his grip. Relishing in the glint that flashes in his gaze at your defiance, at the groan that rumbles in his chest and you have to bite back your grin. 

“Have a little patience Steve, I got all dressed up for you and you don’t even care? Maybe I had a really nice night for us planned back at the hotel…” you sigh, hand reaching up to unclip your hair. 

Steve licks his lips, as your hands shake out your curls. He moans when you lean forward, lips kissing up his dick and hovering over the tip. 

“Please, baby, I-”

Smiling against him, tongue flicking out and teasing him. Trying to contain your amusement in the whimper he makes at the motion as you kick off your heels and climb over the console. Your dress rucked up around your hips and Steve’s eyes drink you in, large hands roaming up your thighs. 

Your own fingers pull at the hem of your dress, removing it over your head and your smile finally wins as Steve falls back against the seat heavily with a loud moan. His eyes are darker than the night sky above you as he tugs on your lace covered hips. Breath hot against your skin as he yanks you closer to him, kissing over the swell of your breasts and up your neck. 

“You planned this?” He licks at your neck, your jaw, up to your ear. Sucking bruises and soothing them with his tongue too quickly for your liking. This is all going to be over too fast.  

Your body arches against his, neck extending for him as you gasp, “Well, not the car exactly, but-”

Breaking off into a moan as he kisses down the column of your throat, a thick finger pushing the lace of the lingerie set to the side. Steve’s able to slide through you easily and now it’s his turn to smile against your skin. 

He’s not the one who’s needy, you are. 

“Honey, you’re fucking soaked.” A second digit spreads your folds, teasing and circling your clit and you have to bite down on your lip hard to suppress the pathetic sound that’s trying to escape you. 

The pads of his fingers stop at your entrance and he smirks into your jaw, nose nudging your cheek as he speaks. Voice raspy and tinged with a desperation you’ve never heard before, “Got all worked up watching me make money, yeah? Wanna be a little spoiled, huh baby?”

When Steve pushes his fingers into you with no resistance, you know there’s no use in fighting it and you nod, your own fingers gripping at his shoulders. Your breath is coming too quickly, the heat pooling in your stomach coming too rapidly and you gasp out his name.

He smiles, lips hovering over yours as your hips roll against his hand. Steve watches you, almost casually, leaning back, thighs spreading wider. You wouldn’t be surprised if he put his other hand behind his head like he was relaxing by the pool. His fingers curl and find the spot you were aching for him to touch for hours, he doesn’t even blink as you clench around him. Steve’s tongue presses into his cheek, fighting a wider smile as he nods, “Yeah that’s it pretty girl, just take whatever you want. So spoiled,” his other hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer and his lips press to yours roughly, “So fucking spoiled.”

Pushing on his chest, you whine, “Steve, I need-”

His fingers slip from you and wrap around his length, coating himself in your slick before he’s yanking you lower on his lap.

“Yeah? Then take it.”

Pathetic, you’re pathetic, and you don’t understand how the roles reversed so quickly. How did a night of pretending, a plan to seduce Steve turn into you begging for him in a fucking Ferrari?

There’s no sting as you take him, it’s too wet, too ready for him, and your head is thrown back with a gasp of pleasure. Your eyes blink as he sucks on the top of one of your breasts, hands on your hips as he moves you up and down on him sharply. Tears for Fears plays and stars glimmer above you and you’re already about to cum. How was he always able to seduce you into these sinfully delicious scenarios even when you had a plan to do it to him? 

Angry you didn’t win, again, you push his face into your chest harder, fingers tugging in the back of his hair. Steve’s breath hitches as you roll your hips, grinding down on him. He can feel you clenching around him, you can feel every ridge and curve. Steve kisses up your neck, begging your name as you bob on him faster, hands squeezing your hips. He’s gone. 

You’re both playing dirty now. A filthy grind of your hips against his, hands yanking in hair, mouths breathing into each other’s and Steve leans the seat back suddenly. Gasping as you fly backwards, your weight falling against him fully, he groans. The new angle has your clit rubbing against him just right and you’re panting into his mouth. 

The pressure builds in your gut almost in time with the music playing, swelling and crescendoing to a level you've never reached so quickly. You’re trying to win stil,l but it’s all over when Steve begs one simple word into your parted lips.

“Come.”

Your body spasms, it’s a demand and a plea and he nods as you whine and your bouncing picks up it’s pace as your orgasm rips through you. Steve is quick to follow you, painting your walls as he holds you down, hands pressing into your back as his hips buck up into you harshly before faltering.  

A whole song seems to play before the other sounds of the world return to yours and Steve’s ears. Cars driving by not too far away, owls and various woodland creature’s calls when you make eye contact. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, neck bruised by you even though you don’t remember doing it and his hair is messier than it’s ever been. You’re sure you look even worse and suddenly the two of you are laughing. 

You hide in his chest and he curls his arms around you. He lips brush along your temple and he squeezes you lightly. His laugh rumbles in his chest against yours as he whispers a little too cockily, “Told you you’d have fun tonight.”

[madhatterbri]

Unbothered | F.B.

Summary: Can I please request a Finn Balor x ring announcer/reader fic?, where Finn loves showing off in the ring because he knows the reader is watching him, but she acts like she's unbothered 😉.

Author's Note: I took it one step further. I hope that's okay. ❤️

Requested by anon.

Finn Balor Masterlist

Unbothered Part 2

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms

"It sure looks like Finn is showing off tonight for the main event," Michael Cole mentioned with a smile. He stared at his paper while trying to hide a smile. Pat McAfee laughed next to him and looked at Y/N. She glared at both men. The two were having fun at her expense lately.

"Well, he does have quite the woman to impress. Miss Y/N is our wonderful ring announcer and has certainly caught the eye of Finn. He is quite the catch to you know? Zero percent body fat," Pat commented and winked at his ring announcer. He fingers formed a 0 to elaborate on his previous comment. Y/N rolled her eyes and focused on the match.

The Irish man wasn't shy about showing off to her. His moves were bigger and flashier than they needed to be. His light eyes would lock on to her to make sure she was watching. When he completed his move, Finn would look for a reaction. Sometimes, she would roll her eyes. Other times, she would clap sarcastically. She was rewarded with a smile on his face.

Tonight didn't go exactly as planned. Finn stood on the top rope to perform a Coup de Grace. He turned to look at her like he normally did. When he saw she was watching, he jumped to perform his finishing move. His opponent didn't calculate the landing.

Finn landed on the man awkwardly. His ankle twisted. Y/N knew something was wrong the moment Finn didn't look at her. He automatically pinned the guy. The commentary table commented on the injury he might have sustained for those watching at home. They went off the air, and medic came out to help him get to the back.

The announcers and Y/N took a couple of pictures with fans. She couldn't hide the worry on her face. Maybe he was really injured. If only he would stop being a show off.

"You, uh, looking a little concerned, kid. Why don't you check on him?" Pat asked and motioned towards the ramp with his head.

"I guess," she answered. Truthfully, that was the only thing she had thought about. After a few more pictures, she apologized and started to take off from Michael and Pat.

"You think they gonna name their first kid after me someday?" He asked Michael. The two men laughed and continued to interact with the audience.

Y/N made it to the medical room and knocked on the door. Nervously, she crossed her arms over her body. The locker room would have a field day with her being there to see them. All the teasing, especially from Judgment Day, would never cease.

"Come in," Finn's Irish accent called through the door. She grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

Finn couldn't hide his shock when he saw Y/N. He was expecting someone from his faction. The injured wrestler slowly sat up. His pant leg was hiked up. A bag of ice placed high on his ankle. His shoe was left next to the medical bed.

"Impressive. Showed off so much you ended up in medical," Y/N complimented and walked next to the bed.

"Worth it, though. I know my Coup de Grace is your favorite move. I see the way your eyes shine when I perform it," he smirked. Y/N couldn't stop the brief chuckle. God, this man is so full of himself, she thought.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Pretty lucky. Any minute longer, and doc thought I would have lost my foot," he answered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "All right. Well, I hope you feel better. If you need anything, anything at all. Don't be afraid to ask someone else,"

Finn laughed. "How about your number? You like my moves in the ring, you should see how I am out of it,"

Y/N thought about it momentarily. "Okay, six,"

"Wait, seriously? Hold on," he pleaded and reached for his phone in his pocket. His fingers worked quickly on the touch screen. "Okay, ready,"

"Six," she repeated yet didn't say anymore numbers. They stared at each into realization dawned on him.

"Come on, I got injured trying to impress you. That should get me all ten numbers," he complained. Finn placed his phone on his lap.

"I couldn't be bothered by giving you the rest. Besides, you don't know if that's even the first number," she winked and walked out of medical.

[luna0713hunter]

saw u were gna write for reno and i was so happy bcs i NEED reno fics bcs there js not enough😭

if u could write something like y/n has an inferiority complex towards kikoru bcs she’s always second to her and reno notices this, but on a mission y/n gets heavily injured and he comes in to help… and rest is up to you! obviously u can ignore this as well, have a good day🫶

A/n : omgs hi!!!so happy to see you requesting my dear!! And i just love your idea????? I'm honestly such a sucker for hurt/comfort trope!!!thank you for request darling~ hope you enjoy it!

Take this lonely heart

Reno Ichikawa x reader

sweet and soft,hurt/comfort,injuries and blood

Kikoru is amazing.

That's not as shocking as the first time you've seen her; she's long proven to be most talented person there is in fighting kaiju. She's a pretty girl,with her blond hair and sparkling eyes. And the way she walks like she own every room she steps inside.

She's simply amazing. And that's a well known fact by now.

Skies are blue, the night is dark and Kikoru Shinomiya is a perfect human being.

And as you watch her slice down yet another Yoju with such grace all the while you're holding your bleeding side, you cant help but to envy her. You dont hate Kikoru,no. Far from that actually. But its just frustrating; seeing her fight so effortlessly while you're struggling to keep your eyes open. She rushes around, slicing Kaiju after Kaiju down, all the while keeping her grin plastered on her face.

She looks so happy, so beautifully graceful and strong, that has your throat burning with anger towards yourself.

Why cant you be that strong?

You jump out of the way just as one of the Wyverns dives down, just in time for someone too shoot the freeze rounds. And when the rifle goes off,you know immediately who it belongs to.

You look up from where you're crouched behind a giant boulder to see Kikoru landing the finishing blow on the kaiju.

When she lands on the ground again, she gives Reno a half smile.

Jealousy burns behind your eyes as you watch Reno compliment Kikoru on her performance. You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision ; this is a battlefield, with people trying to survive all around you. You dont have time to feel sorry for yourself. You have to fight as well; make sure every one of the Wyverns are death before they get the chance to attack any of the civilians outside the base.

You suck in a harsh breath and hold your rifle tightly as you march forward all by yourself. You know its stupid; to rush head first without any support. But the image of Kikoru and Reno has been burned in your mind, and you cant shake it off.

You need to prove yourself; to your teammates, to your captains.

To Reno above all.

Your rifle is ready to shoot when a Wyvern bursts through a building. You arms are steady, and your breath is shakey. But your aim is perfect.

Or at least, it would've been if another Wyvern hadn't dove down and knocked you off of your feet.

Your head makes contact with the concrete with a loud 'bang' that knocks the air out of your lungs. You can hear the blood rush in your ears along with a deafening ringing as you try to blink away the stars from dancing in your vision. You hear the distance sound of one of the Kaiju's screech, and you reach blindly for your rifle. When your fingers wrap around the familiar metal, you push yourself up despite your head pounding and and your whole body shaking.

You wont give up, no.

Your aim isnt as perfect as before, but when you shoot the second Wyvern in the back with your remaining release power that's probably not much, the Kaiju let's out a loud screech before exploding; sending it's blood and guts flying everywhere.

And although you probably have a concussion, you cant stop the small feeling of joy and victory that spreads across your chest.

But unfortunately, your joy is short lived ; just as you're about to limp your way back to your team, the first Wyvern comes back.

And gods above does it look angry.

The kaiju lets out a loud scream, and raises a claw and before you can even react, you feel the sharp pain explode in your side. And when you open your eyes again, you're laying on your back on the ground as blood pours out of your wounds.

You watch the Wyvern open its mouth, ready to fire, and you think its amazing how the concussion makes everything seem in slow motion. But you think it also sucks; to die in your second battle while your friends still need your help.

The blood coming from your head has made its way to your eyes, and you try to blink it away. You're so tired and dizzy from the blood lost, that you think you're hallucinating when suddenly the kaiju freezes over. Your so busy to keep your eyes open, that you dont even notice Kikoru arriving and taking down the last Wyvern in the area. Every sound seems to come from under the water and you feel awfully cold even in your special suit, but when warm hands hold your cheeks and you hear distant yelling, you know you've closed your eyes without even realizing.

"Y/n!!" The voice is panicked, worried and awfully familiar, "Y/n!open your eyes!!! don't fall asleep!!"

It takes a lot of effort, but when you finally do open your eyes, you're met with a pair of silver-violet eyes.

"Reno...?" Your voice is barely audible, but Reno hears it. He holds your hand tightly as he shifts you in his embrace, squeezing your hand with reassurance.

"Yeah its me..." He croaks, voice cracking, " I'm here... I should've been here sooner, I'm so sorry."

" 's not your fault." Your eyes flutter shut momentarily but opening once more when Reno calls your name with a small shake to your aching body, " I should've been more careful... its my fault for being so weak..."

"What are you talking about?" His hold around your shoulder tightens. You feel him getting up with you still in his embrace; he's probably taking you to the nearest medic around, "you did great. You defeated that Wyvern all by yourself. Without any backup or help."

"But I'm not..." You swallow around the lump in your throat and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel the tears starting to burn them, "I'm not as good as Kikoru. I'll never be as good as her."

Reno gives you a confused look as he rushes forward; eyes searching for the medic Haruichi had mentioned.

"Why are you comparing yourself to her?"

"Because," your sob has Reno stopping in his track; eyes wildly searching for the source of your discomfort, "because...you always keep looking at her...i know she's perfect,in everything, but no matter how hard i try, i cant...." You hide your face in his chest, " be like her for you..."

The man holding you is dead silence. You think you can hear the distant sound of explosion and your captains fighting, but no sound comes from Reno. You've lost enough blood that makes you want to just close your eyes and sleep this horrible day off, but when you feel Reno move again, it has your eyes fluttering open once more.

"Y/n," Reno's voice is stern, a tone you've ever heard when he's begging Hibino-san to not transform to his kaiju form, "look at me... please."

When you comply, he gives you a soft smile; the ones only reserved for you that has butterflies flying in your stomach.

"I dont need you to be like her for me." He pauses and shakes his head with a hint of a laugh, "hell,i dont want you to ever be like her."

You can hear the medics' shouts near by, and judging by the way Reno's face relaxes slightly, you're probably in a safe zone for now.

"I want you to be you. I want the y/n who cried when Senpai got accepted as an official officer. I want the y/n who stayed by my bedside whenever i get injured and doesn't leave until i eat something." His smile grows, softer than you've seen, "i want 'you' who's always there for me. I want 'you', who's strong, independence, and stubborn as hell and sometimes gives me heart attack." When a small giggle escapes from your bloody lips, Reno also lets out a laughter of his own.

He nods to the medic who walks by and motions for him to put you down on the nearest makeshift med. Reno gently puts you down, mindful of your injuries but as soon as you're settled, he takes hold of your hand with both of his own. He smiles, and a suddenly pink dusts his pale cheeks.

"I want the y/n... who I've fell in love with. I want you, no one else. And definitely not Kikoru." Your cheeks feel like they're on fire, but the tired smile you give him is genuine, "i mean, have you seen her? She drives me crazy!"

Your laughter is a small thing but the sound is enough to relax Reno more. The silver haired boy bends down and kisses your forehead gently; making your eyes flutter shut.

"Get some rest. I'll be back before you know it."

You watch as Reno gets up and talks with other teammates. But before he can leave, his name falls from your lips. He immediately turns around and waits for you to say whatever's on your mind with enough patients that has your heart melt in your chest.

"I love you too, Reno," you smile as his ears suddenly turn red, "be safe."

And he only turns his back to Iharu's harsh teasing and trips over his own feet.

"See you soon, babe."

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 1 (kth)

banner credit goes to the absolutely incredible @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (they’re so, SO stupid), slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 8.4k

series warnings: swearing, sexual themes, one instance of mild violence, alcohol use, infidelity, brief mentions of neglectful parents and alcoholism

chapter warnings: potty mouths, oc teasingly threatens her friends, art world inaccuracies (probably, idk how art shows work), fns music festival dynamite performance taehyung (BLESSED), friends who can’t mind their own business, quick backstory on the aforementioned shitty parenting, oc needs (and has) a drink

a/n: so here is my first foray back into writing after being out of the game for several years! big shout outs to @itaeewon​ / @jeonqkooks​ for the banner and encouragement as well as @taegularities​ for giving me writing advice and letting me cry in her inbox every time i got frustrated with this. they’re also both INCREDIBLE writers so go show them some love once you’re done here!

 SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“She was checking you out.”

“She was not checking me out.”

“Kim Taehyung, she was so checking you out!”

“No.”

“She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave you the ‘come hither’ head tilt.”

Taehyung makes a face. “No one says that anymore, and that’s a perfectly normal gesture to make in everyday conversation.”

“When you want to get someone’s pants off.”

He shushes you, eyes flicking over to the nearby tables in the mostly-empty dining room with all of its dim lights and dark wood paneling. The bar had been a go-to for you and your friends in college, boasting a wide variety of burgers, sandwiches, and wraps that could even satisfy Jungkook and his bottomless appetite. Though your visits have become fewer and farther in between after graduation, nostalgia occasionally drags you back for a lunch or round of late-night drinks, which is how you’ve wound up here on a bright Saturday afternoon.

“You should ask for her number.”

“I am not asking her for her num—!”

“Can I get you anything?”

Taehyung’s face turns bright red as the waitress materializes at the side of your table as if on cue. It’s subtle, but she bats her eyelashes at him, body angled in his direction as if you’re not even there. You raise an eyebrow at him from across the table. See?

“I think we’re ready to order,” you say, mostly to put Taehyung out of his misery as he wordlessly stammers at the blonde.

You’d think he’s never seen a girl before in his life.

The waitress jots your orders down before strolling away in the direction of the kitchen, and you’d swear she’s swinging her hips a little more dramatically than before. You turn towards Taehyung.

“Told you.”

“I said no,” he says sheepishly, cheeks still brushed with pink. “Besides, she looks like she’s probably still in college.”

“You look like you’re probably still in college.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “And we’re not that old, Tae. You could date a college student.”

“Pass.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Fine, but we still need to find you a date to the wedding. Can’t let those youthful good looks go to waste.”

Taehyung huffs in faux annoyance, but his lips quirk up at the compliment. “I’m not bringing a date.”

“So you say, but I’m going to change your mind.”

His smile widens. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” You hold out a pinky, and he only hesitates a moment before linking his with yours.

“Okay, we’ll see.”

You fall into one of your usual conversation patterns as you ask about how his job is going. He tells you about the upcoming art show at the gallery where he works as a curator, doing some freelance photography as a side gig. He’d managed to snag Maya, one of the aforementioned friends, a spot in it, and he smiles as he gushes over how great her pieces turned out, cheeks lightly flushed with what you interpret as pride. The two of them met freshman year as photography majors and quickly developed into friends and partners, challenging each other artistically and now occasionally teaming up to shoot larger weddings and events.

It makes pride warm your own belly, seeing him flourish and succeed in the field he had always dreamed of. Photography had been an outlet for him throughout high school, a vital reprieve from the insulated struggles of your shared childhood. Taehyung has never been a negative person, never weighed down in spite of the home life which would have given him every justifiable reason to become jaded. Still, you’d watched a new light bloom in him after he discovered photography as if the camera lens truly gave him a fresh way of seeing the world.

And you’ve always loved seeing happiness spill from your best friend.

Your food is just being brought to the table when Jimin comes shuffling up in a zombie-like trance, eyes wide and mouth slack.

"Finally made i—woah, are you alright?"

Jimin drops into a seat, glazed eyes fixated on the window overlooking the street.

"Maya and Kook are hooking up."

Taehyung chokes on his drink, water spraying onto his plate, while your jaw hits the floor.

"They're what?!"

"What the fuck?!"

Jimin works his jaw before wiping his hands over his face, "Yup."

You and Taehyung gape at him.

"What in the name of God would make you say that?" you ask emphatically, just as Taehyung says, "They hate each other."

"I don't know. Probably because I just caught her straddling him on our couch half-naked. But it’s just a feeling."

"Oh my God, we don't need to know that!"

"Our couch?!"

Jimin scrubs a hand over his face again as if he could wipe the image from his brain. “Yeah, I…can’t say I’m entirely surprised, but, Jesus, I did not need to see that with my own two eyes.”

“Okay, wait, wait,” you say, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to clear your thoughts. “You’re sure it was Maya—not another one of his random hook-ups?”

“You think I don’t know what she looks like?” Jimin asks, pulling a face. “Look, she stopped by to grab some camera equipment Tae left for her and said she was going to hang around for a minute to wait for an Uber. I was already late for here so I left, but I forgot my wallet. When I went back they were…compromised. And I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate them.” He frowns again, turning to Taehyung. “Speaking of, can you cover me for lunch?”

“This is unreal. Fucking unreal,” you fume. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Is it really all that surprising?” Jimin asks. “Somewhere in all of their bickering and nagging and constant frowning at each other was always some thinly-veiled sexual tension.” When you glare at him, he adds, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“That’s not the problem, Chim. You know how this shit goes.” You rub a thumb between your eyes, trying to ease the sudden tension there. “They already fight all the time, and sex only ever complicates things. How long until this blows up and we’re forced to choose sides?”

And that’s the crux of your worry—a disaster seems inevitable. Maya and Jungkook have always been clear about their bare tolerance of each other, seeing it as a necessary evil for the benefit of the rest of your friendships. And while their arguments and bickering have been relatively muted in recent years after you, Taehyung, and Jimin had put down a collective foot and told them you were tired of hearing their shit, you are not eager to see them test the fragile thread that links all of you.

You’ve dealt with enough instability regarding the people in your life; the last thing you need is more.

The waitress comes up to take Jimin’s order while Taehyung studies you as you press the heels of your palms to your eyes.

“Hey,” he says as the waitress walks off again, a hand sliding across the table in your direction but not quite making it there. “No one is getting divorced or anything. Just talk to Maya first. We really don’t even know what’s going on here.”

Jimin lets out a puff of air. “I do. He had his hand up her—” He shuts his mouth as both you and Taehyung shoot daggers at him.

After a moment, your fingers tap absent-mindedly over your phone. “Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to her tonight. We’re supposed to go dress shopping for the art show.”

“Gotta get something nice for Jace?” Jimin asks, wiggling an eyebrow. You smirk back at him.

“No, he can’t make it. Work has him putting in overtime like crazy for their annual convention in a few weeks.”

“How is he doing—Jace?” Taehyung asks. His tone is light, but as Jimin turns to look at him, he notices his hand on the table had closed into a fist.

“He’s good,” you say, the tension finally melting out of your face as your eyes light up. “He’s been incredibly upbeat lately, actually—more romantic even.” There’s a pause as you hesitate. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was going to…you know.” You wave faintly with your left hand.

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “You think he’s planning to pro—” You quickly press a finger over your lips, and Jimin slaps a hand to his thigh. “Fuck yes! About damn time. Hey,” he settles his face in his palm and stares off dreamily. “Can I be your maid of honor?” Then, when you giggle, “Don’t laugh. I would look great in a dress.”

“I’ll put you on the short list,” you say, turning towards your food as Jimin pumps a fist. “But no more talk about that. I’ve waited damn long enough and do not want to jinx it.”

Taehyung’s knuckles had gone white.

“It’s really none of your business,” Maya says, picking up a bright purple, thigh-length dress off the rack and holding it up to her shoulders. “How about this one?”

“Too short.” She puts it back. “And I beg to differ. When something stands to get between two of my best friends who I care about deeply, I think that makes it my business.” When Maya doesn’t say anything, still nonchalantly flipping through dresses, you press on. “You know this can’t end well, right? You’re adding sex to an already volatile relationship, and I don’t like the idea of the friend group having to split if and when the two of you implode.”

“First of all, we’re not your damn parents. Kook may be a walking man child, but the rest of us are mature adults. We’d figure it out,” Maya says. She holds up a green gown, frowns, and returns it. Turning towards you, she quirks an eyebrow. “Second of all, who says that this morning was the first time?”

Your jaw drops. As you stand speechless, Maya resumes her dress perusal.

“Wha—how long?” you finally choke out.

“Ooh, this is pretty.” Maya pulls out a deep red cocktail dress, silver roses adorning the fabric. Catching the look on your face, she says, “Two years, give or take.”

“Two—!” you squeak before shaking your head. “No. No fucking way. You two can barely be in the same room for two minutes let alone sleep together for two years.”

Maya smirks. “Turns out he can do much better things with his mouth when he’s not using it to talk out of his ass.”

“Maya, oh my God!”

“What? You wanted to make it your business, right?”

You take a breath to steady yourself. “Look, I am just worried about you guys, okay? That’s it. You’re two of my best friends, and I don’t want to see anyone get hurt. And I certainly don’t want to be put into a situation where I have to choose between you.”

“That won’t happen,” Maya says, trailing off towards a dressing room. “For someone to get hurt, there’d have to be actual feelings involved, and the only feeling he gives me is a migraine.” She slips into a changing stall while you lean against the wall, still trying to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.

“Besides,” Maya’s voice sounded from behind the curtain, “Jimin only found out because of his stupid wallet, and he notices everything. If we could fool him for that long with no problems…” She pulls the curtain back. The red fabric of the dress hugs her hips, her dark hair draped over one shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous, as usual,” you say. And then, because you can’t help it, “I’m sure Kook will love it.”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.” She steps back into the stall and yanks the curtain closed again. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Maya says over the shuffling of clothes. “Nothing changed during the two years when you guys didn’t know and nothing has to change now.”

Maybe she’s right, you think to yourself, resting your head back and closing your eyes to the bright fluorescents above you. Maybe everything would be fine. Jungkook, in spite of his cocky playboy persona, may be a big teddy bear at heart, but you’ve never known him to mix emotions with pleasure. And Maya is certainly capable of handling herself.

Still, the whole thing just reeks of disaster waiting to happen.

The sun has just started its descent when the two of you step out of the shop, Maya now carrying a long white bag along with her. You pause for a moment, taking a slow inhale of the soft spring air. This is probably your favorite time of day, when the whole city is tinted gold, the push of the foot traffic slowing to a lazier pace as college students and businessmen alike meander their way to dinners and evening plans.

“Do you want to do dinner at my place?” Maya asks, starting to move in the direction of her apartment as you trail at her side. “I was planning on trying this new pot roast recipe, and I’d rather not get stuck with too many leftovers.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you say. “I’m in.”

“You just have to promise to stop looking so constipated.”

You let out a puff of a laugh. “I’m sorry—I really don’t mean to meddle.” You purse your lips. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, you said that already,” Maya sighs. “But we’re all grown-ups, Y/N. I know you mean well, but you’ve gotta loosen up the reins a little bit.”

“Whatever. As long as I don’t have to walk in on you guys like Jimin did.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “And just…be careful.”

Maya rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that day. She knows your heart is in a good place—the stereotypical “mom friend” just looking out for everyone—but your own blind spot drives her crazy.

You insist that you don’t truly mean to meddle. Maya, however, has no such qualms.

“You know,” she says, smirking at you with a sideways glance. “If you’re really worried about someone getting their heart broken, you should spend less time worrying about me and Kook and more time worrying about Tae.”

Your steps slow, frown lines gradually forming on your face. “Tae? What about Tae?” You pause. “He and Luna broke up months ago. He said he was over her.”

They were barely together a year, but the relationship had been the longest of Taehyung’s life. He’d spent the two weeks following the breakup locked in his room while you juggled both making sure he was alright and moving into a new apartment.

Maya gestures to the bag in her hands. “Don’t stop walking. This thing is a bitch to carry.”

As you jog a few steps to catch up, you ask, “Why? Did he say something to you?”

“Oh, please.” Another eyeroll. “He was never into Luna. It’s a wonder they even lasted as long as he did.”

“Then who?”

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Maya, I genuinely have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

It’s Maya’s turn to stop in her tracks this time, passerby giving the two of you dirty looks as they swerve around you. She pins you with a pointed expression that has you blinking back at her. “What?”

Maya only continues to stare, tilting her head and biting her tongue until you finally put the pieces together. Your eyes going wide before you shake your head vigorously.

“No. No. You’re wrong.”

Maya scoffs and continues walking. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve told you this before. We’re just comfortable with each other. He’s my—”

“Best friend who has made heart eyes at you the entire time I’ve known you two.”

“He does not. He looks at me like he’s always looked at me.”

“Exactly.”

“I—need I remind you that I’m in a committed relationship?”

“So? That doesn’t affect his feelings.”

“Tae has dated plenty of girls.”

“And with much success, obviously.”

You hesitate. “It’s not his fault that they all—”

“See how he looks at you and decide not to waste their time?”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Sure it is.”

“You’re misreading it. It’s just that we have history.”

“And chemistry. And while we’re rattling off school subjects the two of you share, I’m sure he’d be willing to help you with your physical education.”

“Maya.”

“I’m just saying!” She adjusts the bag, the plastic rustling the air. “I just got this sense that something, I don’t know, broke after Luna. I figured he finally realized how hung up on you he is or something, and that’s why he hasn’t dated since.”

The idea of a broken Taehyung squeezes your heart as your frown impossibly deepens. “That’s not…no. That’s definitely not what it was. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Fine. If you say so.”

The two of you fall into silence, the light crackle of Maya’s bag hanging delicately between you. The sun is starting to dip behind buildings now, stretching long shadows onto the ground in front of you as you turn onto her block. You inhale a long, shaky breath.

Yes, it’s been a while since Taehyung has dated, and yes, this is a little peculiar. He may be your best friend,  but part of that means you’ve watched him grow from awkward kid to gangly teenager to one of the most handsome men you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re not blind—you’ve seen how it’s unsurprisingly garnered him a good deal of female attention throughout the years (Saturday afternoon was not the first time he’s been hit on by a waitress). And while he’s never been anywhere near Jungkook’s level of playboy, he’s definitely been on his fair share of dates.

You don’t doubt that Maya’s noticed something of a shift in him—after you, she’s probably the person who knows him best. But both you and Taehyung have always insisted that your platonic relationship is, well, entirely platonic. So even if something changed for him, she has to be off base as to the why.

Right?

“Maya—”

“Look, I’m not telling you to sleep with him or leave Jace or anything like that. Just…” Maya purses her lips together, blowing air out of her nose. “Step back and look at what you’re doing to him before you lecture the rest of us. The guy is crazy about you, and you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

Well.

Shit.

She climbs the steps to her front door, slipping in the key and opening it before turning back to where you remain at the bottom of the stoop fiddling with your purse strap.

“You coming?”

“Um,” you hesitate. Your eyes drift off down the street, mind suddenly racing . “I don’t know. I’m not really hungry anymore.”

Maya’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No, no,” you say with another shake of your head.  “I’m not mad. I just think I want to go home, maybe take a bath.”

“Okay,” Maya slowly responds. “I’ll see you at the show Friday night?”

You smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Perhaps, Maya muses as she watches you saunter down the sidewalk, calling you out was not the right move. But the thought only lingers for a moment before she turns with a shrug and goes inside.

It’s Sunday night when you find yourself at the guys’ apartment for your and Taehyung’s weekly meal prep tradition. The ritual is the evolution of several years of having to care for yourselves—a need to eat turned into a sacred bonding activity for two people who had learned to rely on each other.

You and Taehyung met when you were eight-years-old after your teacher had fatefully situated your desks next to each other on the first day of school. A compliment from Taehyung on the color of your pencil case (a bright and bold turquoise) turned into a fast friendship that rapidly deepened as you realized just how similar you were: both only children living in homes with parents who were neglectful in their own ways.

In spite of growing up in a lavish, sparkling house with more rooms than you could count, your childhood was a struggle as your endlessly-busy, high-powered-lawyer parents virtually ignored your existence and left you to your own devices, working late hours every day and oftentimes not even ensuring that you had been properly fed. The mansion had felt like a prison, long hallways and tall ceilings devoid of life, filled with nothing but a terrible sense of loneliness.

That was, at least, until Taehyung showed up.

When either of you had a bad day (which was, admittedly, most days), he would slip away from the tiny, one-bedroom house on the poorer side of town, where his mother had abandoned him to an alcoholic father, and you'd sneak him in the back door (your parents either never noticed or simply didn't care). The two of you would raid the kitchen cabinets for snacks and lug your loot up to your bedroom, where you'd throw together a giant fort made of pillows and blankets with your prized possession at the center—a small globe light with tiny cut-out stars.

You never really talked about your respective situations—there was never really a need to. He saw your non-relationship with your parents firsthand, and you had heard the rumors about his family—whispers at school about the boy with secondhand clothes and a dad who often had to be dragged out of the local bars. The outside world may have been cruel, passing judgment on the both of you (and Taehyung especially) for circumstances outside of your control, but in the comfort of your room, even that fostered your kinship. It was like your own minuscule universe, belonging only to the two of you, and as you munched on your popcorn and watched the soft stars dance across the propped-up fabric, you'd talk and tell each other stories. Stories about anything from kings and queens to pirates to cowboys to astronauts. The only rule was that every tale had to have a happy ending.

As you got older, you traded your storytelling nights for evenings experimenting in the kitchen, sick of gorging yourselves on chips, pretzels, and sodas. Occasionally, once Taehyung purchased his first camera from a secondhand shop with money he saved delivering newspapers, he'd drag you around town for a photoshoot. You’d wander the streets together, helping him to scout out areas for inspiration, and he’d use you as his model to practice portraits and photographing human subjects. This tradition, too, had faded once the two of you escaped your hometown to go to college (you're not sure your parents even realized you had left), as Taehyung began working on class projects with Maya and you started spending more time with Jace. Only your weekly meal prep had persisted.

Your cooking had been a staple during college, you and Taehyung hosting “family dinners” for you and your friends on weekends (usually followed by a good few rounds of drinks), eventually shifting into you making batch meals on Sundays once you’d all graduated and begun working. That was when it had been you who’d lived in this apartment, back before you’d moved in with Jace and Jungkook had taken your place here. Still, even as lifestyles and living arrangements changed, you always wound up cooking with Taehyung on Sunday nights.

“What are mom and dad making tonight?” Jimin trills, reaching over the counter to take a swipe at a baby carrot. You shoo his hand away.

“Nothing, if you keep stealing our ingredients. Aren’t you supposed to be going to the gym?”

“I am, but someone,” he turns to yell over his shoulder, “is taking their sweet ass time getting ready!”

A door clicks open down the hall before Jungkook’s voice yells out, “Calm down, asshole, I’m almost done!” The door slams shut again.

“Such a diva,” Jimin huffs, gaining an edge to pop a carrot into his mouth. You let out a cry of protest.

“Chim, cut it out!” You turn to Taehyung who is at the opposite counter with his back to you, chopping more vegetables. “Tae, stop him.”

Taehyung snorts, not turning around. “That’s my job?”

“You have a knife.”

“Sorry, I’ve taken a vow of nonviolence.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter as Jimin tries to reach around you again. “Hands off, Park, or I swear to God I will kick you in the balls, and you will not see it coming.”

“Guy’s gotta get some action somehow, am I right?” Jungkook comes striding down the hallway in a tank top and shorts, looking more like he’s ready for a magazine cover shoot than a gym visit as he bounds up to where you and Jimin stand in the kitchen.

“Hey, I get plenty of action!”

“You were literally whining this morning that it’s been three months.”

Jimin flushes. “That’s because I don’t sleep with my friends.”

“Neither do I,” Jungkook says, throwing a wink in your direction as you roll your eyes back at him.

“You’re disgusting. It’s a wonder Maya puts up with you.”

“It’s definitely more of a puts out situation.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “And not really up? Contrary to what you might expect, she’s usually under—“

“Jeon Jungkook.” Then, when he makes a move to grab a carrot, you turn to Taehyung and snap, “Tae, give me a knife, I’ll stab them myself.”

Barely looking up, he reaches over to grab a knife out of the block, twisting it in his hands to hold it delicately by the blade and offer it to you handle-first. You grip it, only to slam the knife down firmly on its side in front of you, staring down Jimin and Jungkook in a silent challenge. But Jimin merely quirks an eyebrow in silent laughter, while Jungkook lets out a teasing, “Hot.”

You glare and raise the knife to chest level, pointing it at his sternum and trying to muster as much threatening energy as you possibly can in the face of a guy who could bench press you in his sleep. And while his facial expression remains one of passive amusement, he raises his hands in mock surrender and says, "Fine, fine, we're going."

With a sweep of their gym bags, they make their way out, and there's one last, "Save some for us!" from Jimin before the door swings shut behind them.

You sigh. "Idiots."

"But they're our idiots," Taehyung says, and a glance over your shoulder tells you that he's laughing at your frustration, a smile brightening his features and warming your chest.

"Remind me why we adopted them again?"

"You instantly fell for Jimin's puppy dog eyes when he was wandering around lost at orientation, and Kook..." He trails off. "Why did we adopt Kook?"

"School administration made you dorm with him, and we haven't been able to get rid of him since?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

You fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of your respective knives hitting the cutting board before Taehyung speaks up again.

"Speaking of Kook, you never told me how your conversation with Maya went."

You're thankful you have your back to him because you immediately feel yourself flush, heat shooting up your neck like an erupting volcano. You want to say, Yeah, it went great. She told me that you're desperately in love with me, and I'm the reason why none of your relationships have worked out. But that's ridiculous, right? Right?!

Instead, you do your best to mask your expression into one of relative impassivity and say, “Well, according to her, this isn’t new. They’ve been doing this for two years.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish.”

Taehyung ignores that. “How did none of us ever notice?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out. You’d think we would’ve noticed a change or something, right?”

He’s quiet, and you glance over to see him staring at a distant point out the window, lost in thought, the heel of the knife absentmindedly tapping a beat against the board. Taehyung’s always been introspective—content to sit in contemplation as he slowly works an idea through his mind. He’s thoughtful like that, ever the deliberator and rarely one to act on impulse. You balance each other out in this regard, with you having always been more inclined to break rules as you see fit and Taehyung being there to reel you in as needed.

“Maybe it works for them,” he finally says, and you feel your eyebrows shoot halfway up your forehead.

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

He shrugs, attention drawn back to the vegetables in front of him. “It hasn’t caused a problem yet, right?”

“The operative word there being yet.”

He shrugs again, brows tilting together. “I’m just saying that they’re both consenting adults, and if it’s gone this long without any catastrophes, maybe it really is a good arrangement for both of them.”

“It’s Maya and Kook. They’re always a catastrophe.”

“Exactly. They’d probably have an eventual falling out even if they weren’t sleeping together, so who knows? Maybe it actually helps them work some of that tension off.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I didn’t say it was healthy.” He finishes chopping his last onion and sets his knife down, crossing the kitchen to check your own progress. Reaching over you, he grabs a piece of carrot and slips it into his mouth, grinning when you frown at him. “Really, Y/N, what can you do?”

“I know, but they’re…they’re the closest thing to family that we have. You know that.”

“Families can be dysfunctional. We both know that.” He munches on another carrot. “I’d still take them over my biological family any day.”

When that still doesn’t seem to entirely placate you, he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder, the tips of his fingers brushing the base of your neck and raising goosebumps there, before he slides his hand down to loop your pinkies together. “What will happen will happen. Don’t let it worry you unnecessarily.” Then he’s off heating up oil on the stove.

Normally, the brief touch would have barely registered in your mind—a simple gesture you had gotten into the habit of using when you were kids to provide reassurance. But it’s like your conversation with Maya has been inked under your skin, recoloring your perspective on the single-most steadfast relationship you’ve ever had in your life.

You hate it.

The oil begins to bubble on the stove, but Taehyung is distracted, rummaging around the refrigerator for something, so you take over, dumping in the beef that will help form the base for the soup. You throw in some seasoning, poking at the meat with a spoon and willing it to brown.

“So you’re really not interested in dating again?”

The words slip out, and the contents of the pot pop angrily at you.

Yeah, you might regret this later.

“Hmm?” Taehyung closes the fridge, cracking open the beer that’s now in his hand.

You curse your loose tongue under your breath. “Just…the other day at lunch. You were so against asking that waitress for her number.”

“She wasn’t my type.”

“And you don’t want to bring a date to the wedding.”

“I’d only bring a long-term girlfriend to a wedding. Less of a chance we’d have to edit her out of pictures later.”

“And how many dates have you been on since Luna? It’s been what, almost a full year?”

His brow scrunches, and the way he’s studying you makes you blush. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

You stare determinedly into the soup pot, trying to look nonchalant. “You’re my best friend, and I want to see you happy. Of course I’m interested.”

He props his hip against the counter in thought and takes a long drag of beer before he answers you. “I thought after Luna that it would be best if I take some time to focus on myself before diving back in. That’s all.”

“She really did a number on you, huh?”

“Something like that.”

You poke at the beginnings of your soup, memories of an absolutely miserable Taehyung surfacing in your mind. “It sucked, you know.”

“What?”

“Seeing your heart break.”

“Ah.” He takes another drink. “Right.”

“I swear, if I saw her again, I’d be tempted to kick her ass.”

He chuckles at that, and it rumbles his entire chest.

It might stir something in yours, too.

“I mean it, Tae.”

“Oh, trust me, I know you do.”

“Could be anywhere: club, grocery store. I’m not afraid to throw hands.”

He gives a tilt of his head. “She was a third degree black belt.”

“Well I kicked that Kenji kid in the groin during recess after he stole your backpack, and he cried for like twenty minutes. Remember that? He was practically six feet tall in the fifth grade, and that didn’t stop me. First degree black belt my ass.”

“Third degree.”

“Whatever.”

“Well as much as I appreciate your determined defense of my pride, I can assure you any emotional distress I suffered was minimal—“

“You haven’t dated since!”

“—and is definitely not worth putting yourself in the hospital over.”

“You don’t miss it though? What about like…” You trail off, cursing your stupid mouth getting ahead of your brain. You’ve never really talked about this before. Relationships, sure, but when it comes to the physical, along with your families, it’s one of the few subjects you avoid.

As your pause stretches on, he raises his eyebrows in question, and you decide to just come out with it.

“What about sex?”

Taehyung, to his credit, is unfazed by your sudden mention of the taboo. “I still have two hands, and they haven’t failed me so far.”

“Oh, Tae, ew.”

He grins devilishly at you, mischief brightening his eyes. It’s a look that he used to wear all the time when you were kids but which became rarer once he mellowed out with adulthood.

Seeing it on him now makes your heart jump.

“Point taken, forget I asked,” you say, and he laughs.

“Really, I’m fine with taking a break from dating for now. Isn’t that what that band you love is always preaching? Self-love and all that.”

You huff out a breath, nodding at his hands. “You don’t say.”

He laughs again, grinning down at you, and the uncertainty you’ve been feeling bubbles up again, your nerves sparking in time with a particularly loud crackle from the pot on the stove.

“Ah, geez, don’t let it burn,” he says, nudging you out of the way to take over. You take the opportunity to wander over to the fridge for a water bottle, feeling the need to cool yourself down. Honestly, what is wrong with you?

Taehyung, in sync with your moods by now, reads you like a book. “I feel like I should be asking you if you’re okay.” He says as he sets the meat aside and begins simmering the mirepoix in the fat. “You seem distracted.”

The conversation has become too much for you to wrestle with at this point, and you feel the need to shut it down before it gets out of control entirely. So you swallow down your anxieties like a pill without water and deflect.

“There’s just…a lot going on right now.”

It’s almost imperceptible, possibly a trick of the light, but his back stiffens ever so slightly. “Hmm, I’m sure.” He looks up at you from the stove, eyes pinning you where you stand. “But you’d tell me if there were something?”

You swallow. “Of course. You?”

“Of course.”

And that has to be enough for now.

The glow of the sunset creeps into your room as you put the finishing touches on your make-up for the night. You're running later than anticipated as you had hoped to catch Jace before you left—you know he has a virtual client meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes that he had planned to attend from home, but he texted you a half-hour ago saying that he got caught up at the office and might just take it there.

With your make-up done, you can't justify lingering any longer and decide to just leave him a note letting him know when you'll be back. Jace's desk is an absolute mess, but you're thankfully able to locate a notepad easily. A pen, however, is a different matter, and it's not long before you're rummaging through the drawers trying to find anything to write with. For a man who keeps his appearance so well-groomed, he has a true affinity for clutter, and you roll your eyes at the junk you have to sift through in search of a simple writing utensil: a hammer, old movie tickets, a broken picture frame, a ring box...

A ring box?

You pause, fingers hovering over the black velvet. Surely, you shouldn't look, right? You already feel like you're crossing some line by discovering the small box—you should preserve some element of surprise for both of your sakes.

Still, the devil on your shoulder whispers to sneak a peek...

Your decision is made for you as you hear the front door click open and shut, and you hastily close the drawer and try to school your features into something casual.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Jace leans in the doorway grinning, not a single sandy brown hair out of place and his impeccably-ironed dress shirt pulled tight across his toned chest. In a fraction of a second, you see his eyes flick from his desk drawer to where you stand stiffly in front of it.

"Hey!" The word comes out a little too loudly, and you rush to cover up the blunder. "I thought I wouldn't see you."

"Wanted to surprise my girl," he says, smile brightening as he swings a hand from behind his back to offer you a single red rose. You feel your cheeks heating up as you take it from him, marveling at how—even four years down the line—he can still manage to charm you.

He presses a kiss to your mouth, hands trailing down the back of your dress to palm your ass with a groan. "Fuck. Can't believe I have this work meeting when you look like this."

"And unfortunately, I need to get going, too, or Maya will have my head." You lean in for another quick peck. "Rain check for later?"

He chuckles, letting you go with one final squeeze. "I'll hold you to that."

"Look who finally showed up!" is what you're greeted with when you locate your friends in the gallery atrium, dodging the other patrons milling about.

"Sorry, got caught up with Jace," you say, shrugging at Maya's teasing glare.

Jungkook winks at you. "I'm sure you did."

"Yah, Kook, don't be gross," Jimin complains, slapping him on the arm.

"What?! She looks great! Right, Tae? Tell her she looks great."

You meet Taehyung's eyes for the first time since you walked up, and he shifts on his feet, gaze darting down to the accentuated curve of your hips. Clearing his throat, he smiles and says, "You look beautiful."

Cheeks hot, you murmur a quiet, "Thanks," so distracted by the awkwardness of the moment that you don't notice the look exchanged by Jimin and Maya between you.

Friends can call friends beautiful and not have it mean anything beyond that, right? You told Maya she looked gorgeous when she bought her dress with you last weekend, and you’d definitely be willing to admit that Taehyung looks incredible tonight. His navy blue suit hugs the lines of his body perfectly—highlighting his tall, lithe form—while his hair is combed up and off his forehead in a style that projects both professionalism and approachability. Combine that with the easy smile he keeps on his face, and he’s basically in male model territory.

You’ll be stunned if he doesn’t get hit on again tonight.

You make some idle small talk with your friends for a few minutes (Jungkook is trying to convince the others to head over to the bar where he works after the reception) before Maya gently nudges you with an elbow.

"Go and have a look around. Mine are back there," she declares, nodding her head towards the right hand corner of the exhibit, "but you should really check out all of the work—there's some good stuff. Hoseok and Sunny are around somewhere too."

You nod, welcoming the chance to see what it is your friends have been working so hard on, and excuse yourself to peruse the gallery. You may not be much of a creative mind yourself, but years of friendship with Taehyung and his infectious enthusiasm have at least helped you develop an appreciation for art. Weaving between the walls of frames and canvases, you stop here and there as a piece catches your eye: dark bars slashed across a messy outline of a heart titled Fake Love; a small boy offering up a waffle cone that holds a rose instead of ice cream—For You.

However, you find yourself slowing down entirely when you get to Maya's collection of photographs. They're mostly black and white candids of strangers. A woman shopping in an outdoor market. A girl chasing a dog in a park. Your friends pop up occasionally, and you smile at one of the memories you recognize: Jungkook pushing Jimin into the pool during your friendcation last year, bunny smile stretched wide across his face.

And suddenly you're frozen by a photo that's in full color.

It's Taehyung's face in close-up, his head turned to the side as he looks at something out of frame. His jaw strikes a downward line, mouth ever so slightly dipped open in something akin to wonder and tan cheeks curving with subtle delight. It's his eyes you can't look away from, though, opened wide enough to soak in whatever he's looking at that they reflect the golden lights around him, tiny galaxies swimming in his irises.

"Enjoying the view?" a deep voice teases at your shoulder, the man himself coming to stand at your side.

"That's an incredible picture of you," you tell him, still taking it in.

He hums in agreement. "I told you, she did a good job."

"Was that last summer?"

"Yeah." He nods his head at the picture of Jimin and Jungkook. "Same night as that, I think."

"What were you looking at?"

Taehyung is quiet as he thinks, scratching lightly at his nose. "I can't say I remember. Probably Hoseok walking out with that plate of pork belly. That was mouth-watering."

You laugh, and he smiles back at you before gesturing at the rows of artwork. "Can I show you some of my favorites?"

"I'd love that."

You let him drag you away, but not before glancing back to read the title card delicately placed next to Taehyung's image.

Your eyes tell.

Taehyung navigates you around the exhibit for a while, describing his role in organizing the gallery and stopping to gush about his favorite pieces. You've always loved hearing him talk about art, his passion for the subject illuminating his face as he enthuses about light and shadows and colors.

He's explaining the rule of thirds to you when Maya interrupts, telling Taehyung she has a potential client for him that she wants him to meet. He promises to find you later as she whisks him away, and, alone again, you decide to head to the adjoining reception area in search of your other friends.

You’re only a few steps into the room when you hear a voice call out your name, Jimin flagging you down from where he stands at a table with Jungkook, Hoseok, and Sunny, and you quickly slide up to hug the latter two.

“You guys made it! We’ve missed you. How’s wedding planning going?”

Hoseok groans into his champagne. “Please do not remind me,” he grumbles. “It makes med school feel like a cakewalk.”

“What my wonderful fiancé meant to say,” Sunny says, playfully elbowing Hoseok in the side and making him sputter on his drink, “is that it’s going fantastically, and we can’t wait to celebrate with you all.”

“Rumor is that it’s the can’t-miss event of the year,” Jimin singsongs. “And Kook and I are bringing the party!” He reaches over so he and Jungkook can share a short but excessively elaborate handshake.

Sunny looks on, amused. “Speaking of, do you two know if you’re bringing dates? We don’t have to finalize headcount quite yet, but knowing sooner rather than later would be appreciated.”

“I will definitely be going stag, but I think Kook might have one, yeah?” Jimin’s voice is teasing, but Jungkook doesn’t catch on, throwing him a quizzical look and causing Jimin to clarify with a smirk. “Maya.”

Jungkook scoffs, muttering, “Not a chance,” while Hoseok’s and Sunny’s eyebrows shoot up in sync.

“You and Maya are dating now?” Sunny asks, eyes wide.

Jungkook tosses Jimin a glare. “No, he’s being an ass.”

When Sunny and Hoseok continue to look confused, glancing back and forth between Jungkook and Jimin, Jimin explains, "We found out recently—and unpleasantly for me, might I add—that Maya and Kook here have been engaging in some activities with, ah, no strings?"

Hoseok's eyebrows go impossibly higher, threatening to meld with his hairline, as his mouth pops open in surprise. "Uhh...congrats?"

Jungkook shakes his head, bottom lip jutting out like a child. "Chim's just jealous because he's in a drought."

"Hey!"

"I, for one, don't see an issue," Sunny says, hopping in to play peacemaker before Jimin and Jungkook devolve into one of their notorious bickering sessions. "You're both adults. And don't sweat it, Jimin, any girl would be lucky to have you."

"What's that supposed to mea—" Hoseok starts to ask before Sunny shuts him up with a finger to his lips, subtly nodding her head at the clearly placated men.

"I just can't believe you two are finally getting married." You change the subject, snatching up a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by. "Been a long time coming."

Sunny hums. "To be honest, I'm surprised we're beating you and Jace to the alter," she says, and now it's your turn to cough on your drink. "When is that happening?"

"Oh, I, um—" you stutter, as you weigh how much you should say. You should keep what you saw earlier a secret, right? After all, what if you're wrong and you come out looking like a fool?

But four pairs of eyes are now fixed on you expectantly, and these are your friends so you cave.

"Okay, I am swearing all of you to secrecy," you say, making deliberate eye contact with each of them in turn to emphasize your point, "but I literally found a ring box in his desk earlier when I was getting ready to come here."

The table erupts in your friends' squeals and cheers, Jimin and Jungkook coming around to playfully shake your shoulders.

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!"

"That's amazing news!"

"I want to be man of honor!"

"I already called dibs!"

"What are we calling dibs on?"

Your heart skips as Taehyung joins your table, smiling at the five of you but obviously perplexed as to what the ruckus is about. And maybe you're imagining it, but your friends all seem to quiet down at his appearance as well, causing Maya's words to once again echo in your mind. The guy is crazy about you, and you're the only one who doesn't see it.

An awkward silence drapes itself over the table, Jimin being the one to pipe up when Taehyung's expression begins to morph from curious to concerned. "Y/N, tell him the good news!"

At that, Taehyung's brown eyes settle on you, and so you take a deep breath and spill. "I found a ring box in Jace's desk."

You're looking at him intently, and it's only the tiniest sliver of a second, but you see it. Unmistakably.

His face drops.

If Maya's photo captured stars in his eyes, you watch each go out one-by-one, his lips pressing together like he's trying not to be sick. A heaviness hits his shoulders that has his chest curling inwards and you almost reaching out to him...

And just like that—all at once—he's gathered his features into a smile and beams at you.

"That's fantastic, Y/N. I'm so incredibly happy for you."

His voice sounds genuine, dripping in the baritone honey that is so warm and so him, but you know what you saw—you're sure of it—and it has your mind spinning.

Shit, shit, shit, she was right.

You down your champagne in one gulp, oblivious to the shocked faces around you as you throw it back and thump the glass harshly on the table. "I'm going for a drink. Anyone want anything?"

You barely give them time to shake their heads before you're scurrying away to the bar and ordering a cosmopolitan—strong. Thoughts whirring, you try to make sense of Taehyung’s crestfallen expression as the bartender mixes your drink. There surely must be an alternate explanation, right? Until now, Taehyung has never, ever given any indication that he has feelings for you. This must be a mistake; you must be seeing things…

But just as the bartender slides your glass across the countertop, you glance back at the table, blood running cold as you find Taehyung already looking at you. He gives you a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite make it to his eyes before turning back to listen to whatever Jimin is currently saying.

You quickly down your second drink of the night and order a third.

NEXT

a/n: and we’re off! likes, reblogs, comments, asks, feedback, constructive criticism, and carrier pigeons are all appreciated! this started off as a story with all OCs, and the first drafts of some of these scenes were originally written in third person omniscient so please forgive me if the POVs are a little all over the place in this chapter. it’ll be rectified moving forward!

taglist open: just message or reply 😊

[sanspuppet]

Sooo! I’ve been obsessed with how low Mingis voice got for the Bouncy stage at the TMA. So I’ve been thinks a lot abou this scenario:

- reader is part of Eden’s team, is always on the studio, and is friendly with Ateez.

- She has the biggest crush on Mingi, but never really acted on it, choosing to keep things professional. She was very good at hiding, but she would get flustered every time his voice went low.

- It’s the day Ateez is prerecording audios for the TMA, and Mingi just dropped the lowest “slow it down make it bouncy”, and obviously her brain just started malfunctioning.

- She though no one noticed, but Mingi did, since he was staring straight at her when recording. And he couldn’t wait to make late nights at the studio far more interesting.

That’s as far as I got. Obviously dirty ass smut.

Hope you like the idea, it’s been living rent-free on my mind 🥵

THIS GIRL IS SO DAMN RELATABLE like- i almost fainted hearing his voice, i wasn't expecting that to be so freakin low 😩 anyways- i love the idea so here you go! hope you enjoy

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI)

PAIRING: dom!Mingi x sub!afab!reader

W/T: unprotected sex, spanking

Thoughts were getting pretty hard to control everytime you'd have to record Ateez new bangs, obviously you couldn't do anything about it, if not just staring at Mingi when he was about to sing his future iconic line. But, if you wanted to keep that job to yourself, you'd better be professional, that's why you've always tried to avoid how your body reacted hearing his low, raspy, and damn sexy voice. After every record, the only thing that was in your mind, was Mingi, his expressions while singing, how is Adam's apple moved when he drank water, or even how sweaty and tired he was when you'd have some time to watch the members do dance practice.

You were sitting in front of the recording stuff, ready (maybe not so ready) to prerecord the performance that Ateez would do the next week. You were turning on the microphone, when the members entered the studio, waving hands and bowing at the all of you. Your heart fluttered as you saw Mingi smirking at you, with that confidence that always made you almost fell on your knees, and instantly melt. The recording took a few hours, and coincidentally, Mingi was the last one. You forced yourself not to distract from your work, while hearing him singing. You were doing a great job about it, until you heard the lowest tone Mingi would ever get: "Slow it down, make it bouncy jigeum butteo fly" he singed, staring at you, making you already panick inside. Your mind completely stopped for a few seconds, and tried to recover from the sexiest thing you'd ever heard. You turned your head, looking at Eden, hoping that he didn't noticed your reaction, and fortunately, he didn't, being too focused on his work. You let out a deep sigh once Mingi got out of the recording studio, and sat on the little couch, next to Yunho.

"Good work, y'all. See you tomorrow." Eden complimented the members, and opened the door to let them go. Technically, your work was now done, and you could just go back home. But the temptation of seeing Mingi a little more, forced you to stay. You got out the studio and went to the nearest coffee machine. You were about to drink your iced americano when you heard that unmistakable voice, and saw the figure of 8 men walking by. You almost choked yourself when you findend Mingi passing next to you, smiling. You waited to finish your drink, before heading towards the dance practice room. You positioned youself in front of the small square of glass on the door, so you could see the members. They were all coordinated and extremely good, but no need to deny, that only Mingi got your total attention. It was about 40 minutes that you were staring at them through the door, when you heard your phone ringing. In less than 1 minute that you were checking your new messages, you heard the door opening, and a tall man looking down at you.

"O-oh s-sorry" you stuttered, not capable to defend the reason you were standing right there.

"Hi, was it good my record today?" Mingi smirked again, approaching you.

"Y-yeah..."

He nodded: "I noticed that you particularly liked it" he winked at you, and then headed towards the bathroom. Once he got back, all the members were ready to left and return to their dorms, expect Mingi:

"Don't worry guys, i'll took a shower here and go back at the dorm later." he said to them, after they left the practice room. Despite you were expecting him take all of his stuff and return into the bathroom to wash himself, he just stood up in front of you. You were about to say something, but before you could, Mingi suddenly got closer and kissed the corner of you lips.

"We both know what we want, right princess?" you moved your sight down your shoes, too embarrassed to even look at him. In fact, what you really wanted was him to pin you against the wall and fuck you already, was it what he wanted, too?

"Wanna see a performance?" he grabbed your waist, and leaned for a kiss, sucking the sensitive skin of your neck. You positioned your palms on his chest, hesitant to push him away: you knew that he shouldn't do that, but something in you obviously wanted him to keep going:

"Song Mingi- we can't-"

"Fuck it, i can't wait to feel you."

"F-feel me?"

"Enter the practice room, now."

"B-but-"

"You really shouldn't disobey me, baby."

You nodded, heading inside the dance studio. You sat down on the small couch in the corner of the room, your heart was beating so loudly and quickly that you thought he could hear it. You looked at Mingi, who was closing the door behind him. Once he was standing in front of you, he caressed your chin with his thumb, smirking. "Just like that, look at me" His voice seemed getting deeper deeper everytime he spoke to you, which it drove you crazy, you didn't even realized what was going on, that Mingi hooked up his t-shirt, flexing his abs, leaning for more kisses, his hands were dragging down on your sides, on your thights, and again at your neck, while his lips were trying to taste every inch of your skin. Small, low whines were escaping from his mouth sometimes, making it difficult to resist your neediness, you just wanted him to undress you and ruin your throbbing pussy, right there. You murmured: "Please- i need it, please do it Mingi..." he stared at you, then he dragged down his sight, till your tight skirt. "Tell me princess, what do you want?" You groaned, frustrated and embarrassed, but mostly because you were horny: "Come on Mingi, just fuck me if that's what you want, i can't take no more if you don't touch me already down there." he chuckled, and immediately dragged his hands on the zipper of you skirt. "I see... you're so impatient baby..." after that, without saying anything, he took your skirt off, leaving on only your panties. He moved his eyes on your face: "Can i strip you completely?" you nodded impatiently, biting your lower lip to help you calm down. In less than a minute, the both of you were naked. You were staring at his dick so desperately, he wasn't moving, too fucked out from the sight of your bare body, needless to say that he was definitely hard. Seeing him immobilized, you suddenly turned yourself on your hands and knees, and rubbed your ass against his waist.

"So? What are you waiting for? Get yourself in." you giggled, as you saw him waking up from his moment of trance. "No condoms?" he asked you. "No, i want you to fill me up- ah! f-fuck" you didn't even finished talking that he shoved his cock inside your folds, letting out a desperate moan, for your warmth and wetness. He waited a few seconds to get used from that feeling, and started to pound slowly, but deeply. The pleasure was now taking the control of the both of you, you couldn't help but be surprised about how is dick fitted you perfectly, every thrust reached your g-spot just in the right way. "P-please Mingi... faster" he gronaed a couple times, and sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin was echoing inside the dance room, the squelching of your wetness was perfectly audible, which it made you even hornier. Moans were continuously escaping from your mouth, especially when Mingi, seeing your ass slapping against his balls, wanted to spank it, leaving red bruises on its cheeks. The more he pounded you, the more you were reaching your orgasm, you could feel that he was also getting near to his climax by his sloppy and tired thrusts, you swear you could just cum from hearing his fucked out moans and whines, when the feeling of your walls clenching around his length tensified. "Fuck princess- im so close" his hands gripped your ass, pressing it against his waist, as he pounded as fast as he could, to finally reach his orgasm. The suddenly feeling of his rough thrust, instantly made you come. You both were a mess, sweat falling down your forehead, your skin red from the spanking, ropes of cum escaping from his cock, when he pulled out and stroked it slightly with his hand, painting your ass. You both layed on the couch, to gather yourself from your high. After you took your breath again, Mingi caressed your thight:

"Give me your number, babe."

----------------------------------------------------------------

PLUS if someone wants to, here's the link for a Mingi smut audio from @myloveforyunho that got me rolling on the floor fr 😩

[gilverrwrites]

★ Daddy's pornstar ★

Black Mask/Wayne!Reader, 4.8K AN: Based on, (but not 1:1) on this ask! It just activated something in my brain and I had to put it into words. I could kiss you anon! FYI, he's (partly) maskless in this one, just because I felt like shaking things up a bit. Warnings: Roman being absolutely foul, he’s a warning all of his own. Swearing, blackmail, dub-con, insults/name-calling, spit, ass to mouth but barely, spanking, choking, verbal degradation, unprotected sex, manipulation, lying, gratuitous daddy kink. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Excerpt: “Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.” “Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will. “Alright. I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

Selina had told you once, after helping your father take down an infamous Gotham-based trafficking ring that the little spiel adult actors give at the beginning of pornos was often complete bullshit. When Cherry Rose or Missy Sin said, “I’m of sound body and mind, and I consent to everything I’m about to do.” they were fucking themselves, metaphorically and literally. That as soon as those words were caught on tape, sketchy cast and crews could use it as a free pass to do whatever they wanted to those performers without repercussions.

That fact, while upsetting, hadn’t really solidified in your head until you were staring down the lens of a Panasonic camcorder, barely faking a smile as you made the very same speech, wondering how many pornstars had been blackmailed or otherwise under duress from the start.

“Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. It’s not clear if he’s appreciative of you in general or of the sheer, feather-hemmed lingerie he’d picked out for you. It’s exactly the kind of thing you’d expect to find on the body of an heiress gone wild in the pages of an 80s Playboy magazine; cute but still a humiliating mockery of the rich kid archetype the media so loves to sexualise. From the shade of pink that compliments your skin tone perfectly, to the way it tastefully clashes with the bedspread, you're pretty certain Roman has put a lot of thought and planning into this whole production. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will.

“Alright.” His smile twists then, into something wicked and you will the heat growing in your stomach to cool. “I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

The suggestion simultaneously makes your skin crawl, and your hair stand on edge. You fight the lurch in your chest by scrunching up your face and glowering at his mask on the bedside table. It’s easier to be repelled by him when he’s Black Mask. He’s not really a person, he’s a symbol, a deity to all that’s wrong with Gotham and its seedy underworld. He laughs aloud, low and throaty, clearly enjoying your visible discomfort. God, you hate him. You hate his laugh. You hate his olive skin. His empty black eyes, his salt and pepper hair, the way he smells so good like sugar and spice and smoke. You hate the way he commands a room simply by being in it. But apparently not all of your body had gotten the memo.

“Agreed?” He says sarcastically, the implication that you don’t really get a choice hangs thick in the air and you nod in reply until he fakes a cough to draw your attention back to him. “Out loud, for the camera.”

“Yes…” He quirks a brow at you, eyes fixated on the shake of your breasts as you attempt to steady your breathing. The name feels wrong on your lips, you haven’t even called your own father Daddy since you were a little girl, but you manage to bite it out. “Daddy.”

“Good girl.” It shouldn’t, but the way he drawls the pet-name makes you feel flushed. “Well, what are you waiting for? We’re rolling.”

For the first time since you’d met him here, you look at him dead on, staring dumbly, hoping for at least a little direction. You’d never done this sort of thing before; you didn’t know where to begin. And you certainly didn’t want to perform so badly that he made it an excuse to have you do it all over again. He stares back at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hungry, watching you expectantly.

“Touch yourself.” He clarifies impatiently. “Play with your tits, finger you pussy, whatever you do when you’re lying in bed alone at night, wishing somebody would fuck you the way you need.”

But you don’t want to be fucked, at least that’s the story you’re feeding yourself. You half gesture to your nether regions as you whisper. “But I’m not wet yet.”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, cause you’re not very bright, are you?” He states sharply, straightening his posture and biting his tongue in annoyance as he stubs out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. His patronising should piss you off, but instead you’re embarrassed. You wish you’d had something to drink before coming here. At least then you could blame your simmering arousal for his mistreatment of you on being tipsy. “Come here.”

He grabs onto your wrist, standing to tower over you as his gloved hands tug you across the bed. Much to your shock, he spit down onto your open palm, amusement palpable as he watches your shocked face.

“What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for my spit?”          

“No.” You do. You are. However, ‘no’ instinctively felt like the right thing to say.

“No? Good.” The grin on Roman’s face is pure malice, it makes your heart drop and your knees weak. “Open your mouth for me.”

When you take too long prying your dried lips apart, Roman releases your wrists in favour of gripping the back of your head, yanking you back until your mouth falls open to cry out in pain. Before you know it’s happening you feel a glob of spit hit your tongue, and suddenly your bodies desire for him finally wins. You don’t need lube anymore, your folds growing slicker with each second sat under his burning gaze. The shame of knowing he caught it all up close and personal on film only fuelling the fire in your belly. Your whole body practically boils at your indigent actions as you close your mouth and swallow.

 “Very good girl.” Roman offers his approval as he releases you, falling back to his position beside the camera.

“Thank you, Daddy.” You’re not sure where the sudden bravery comes from, but you reply cutely as you lay back on the bed once more, spreading your legs and showing the camera how your newfound wetness has started to seep through the delicate fabric. 

“Beautiful.” Roman coos, and it’s the most genuine sounding thing he’s ever said to you. The confusing mix of pride and self-loathing has you grunting in annoyance as you push your fingers under your waist band and begin to run your fingers between your folds, collecting moisture from your leaking entrance and rubbing it against your sensitive clit.

You’ve masturbated many times before, but you’ve never been able to cum from your own hands alone. Now seems a bad time to bring this up, so you channel all your energy into it, building as much friction as you can with your hands and focusing your mind on how good you feel right now. Multiple times Roman has to whistle at you, drawing your attention away from the ceiling and back to the camera as you attempt to force your climax. Each time he looks less entertained by your wandering eyes, until eventually you look over at him only to be greeted by the sight of his penis. Immediately you look away once more, gawking down the lens of the camera, no doubt looking flustered and debauched.

“It’s okay baby, you can look at it.” It’s not really a suggestion, so much as an order. Even when he’s speaking softly, he sounds dangerous, so you angle your head to the side. Watching as he idly pumps away, matching your own strokes with a now ungloved hand. “Like what you see?”

A part of you had been hoping it would be smaller, uglier, something to turn your nose up at, but by all accounts, Roman Sionis has a fucking beautiful cock. Something else you could hate him for. It’s straight, cut, a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, and just big enough to stretch you out in all the right places if you sunk low enough to let him fuck you. A thought that’s becoming more and more appealing with every brush to you heated core.

“Yes.” You strain to form words, joints twitching as you continue to play with your oversensitive, under-climaxed cunt. “Your dick is… nice.”

He chuckles at you, again. While admittedly it was not a good word choice, his constant amusement really makes it difficult to ignore the fact that this is all fun and games to him. You’re a joke, a pawn in his agenda. Damn if the sight of him, leaning back, nonchalantly jerking off over your display doesn’t make your toes curl. But it’s still not enough.

“If you hurry up and cream those pretty panties, I‘ll let you play with it.” You surprise him, and yourself by dramatically kicking your feet against the mattress.

“I can’t!” It comes out petulant and needy. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve never been able to do it myself.”

His eyes narrow, head rolling from side to side as he processes your predicament and considers his next move.

“Sit up and look into the camera.” He eventually instructs, standing up himself to get a good look at you through the viewfinder. “Ask daddy real nicely to help you cum, and I might fuck you with my fingers.”

You can feel his eyes glowering into you through the camera as you hesitate. Deliberating whether you’re really going to beg Black Mask to get you off as you follow his command. The moment your fingers seize movement you feel lost. Yes. If it’s the only way to sooth your desires, then yes, you’re going to swallow your pride and beg him.

“Please daddy.” His eyes don’t leave the screen as he bites down on the tip of his remaining glove to remove it, nor when he loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. “I need you, please make me cum.”

“I think you can do better.” His hard-on would disagree, but you’re in no position to point that out. “Roll over, put your ass up for the camera and keep begging for me baby.”

Somehow, having your entire sex front and centre for the camera, hardly concealed by your see-through panties feels a thousand times more exposing than anything you’ve done do far.

“Please.” Your voice grows smaller, but Roman is having none of it.

“Louder.”

“Please fill me with your finger, Daddy.” You start again, willing yourself to speak as loudly as possible. Calling him daddy feels less and less forced each time it rolls off your tongue. “Please, please, please. I’ll do anything.”

Even in your current state, the irony of your last statement isn’t lost on you. Regardless, it has the desired effect. You wait with bated breath, listening to each footfall as Roman deliberately drags his feet across the carpet until he’s stood behind you, completely out of the cameras view you presume but for his hands which come up to cup your ass. You can’t help but moan as he digs his nails into the fat of your cheeks and makes of show of jiggling them.

“Barely even touched you and you’re already cryin’ out like you’re in heat.” He comments, smug as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and works them down your thighs. He teases you by running his pointer finger lightly across your slit, void of any pressure, before delivering an unexpected slap to your cheek. Your legs flinch, another pathetic whine escaping you in reaction, but ultimately it only adds to your pent-up frustration. Only makes you want him more. “You act so prim and proper, but I always knew what you were.”

“What- ” Your question is silenced as Roman finally sinks two fingers between your pussylips, lazily brushing them against your clit in circular motions. It already feels so much better than you’d accomplished alone. You’re so caught up in the feeling that you no longer care about your rapidly deteriorating dignity when he uses his thumbs to pull apart your lips, showing off your dripping entrance, wolf-whistling as he gives the camera the money shot.

“So fuckin’ wet.” Despite his statement, Roman hawks another bead of spit onto it before sliding two more fingers in without resistance. “D’you know what this is?”

“It’s my pussy, daddy.” You answer earnestly, eyes rolling back at the feel of him plunging inside you.

“That’s right baby.” He purrs. “Your pussy. The pussy of a cock hungry slut.”

“Or maybe it’s mine.” He continues, unapologetically shoving his long fingers in and out of your cunt at a demanding pace. All the while his other hand strokes your clit. The wet squelch that emanates with every touch makes you feel so lewd. You squeeze your eyes shut, holding back hot tears of humiliation and desperation as Roman easily brings you closer and closer to the edge. “Maybe I’ll claim it. Maybe I’ll put my nice dick in there and pump you full of daddy’s cum.”

“Fuck!” You can’t think straight, the only thing on your mind is how fucking good this feels. How much better it would feel to have Roman’s cock pulsing inside you. A damp slapping sound begins to ring throughout the room. You realise quickly that it’s your slit, smacking against Romans hands as you subconsciously rock back onto them, matching his rhythm.

“Is that what you want baby? D’you want to give daddy your pussy?” He growls, perfectly in time with the eruption of your orgasm.

“Yes, it’s your pussy, Daddy. Take it, take my pussy.” The words roll off your tongue completely uninhibited. You’ve no capacity to censor yourself, to think for yourself as shockwaves roll through every vein and nerve of your body. “I want your cock, Roman. I want your cum. Please ruin me.”

Roman lets you ride it out, holding still while you grind against him until you come to a complete stop, quietly panting into the comforter until he’s satisfied that you’re done. Then before you know what’s happening, he rips his hands back and delivers a series of rapid strikes to your ass. Harder than the previous one, sure to leave a mark.

“What’s. My. Name. Bitch?” He bites between each hit. “Whose. Your. Fuckin’. Daddy?”

The sudden change in pace has you reeling and scrambling to pull away, but Roman follows until you surrender. “Daddy! You’re my daddy!”

“And don’t you fuckin forget it.” It’s absolutely an order, bitter and laced with scathing levels supressed rage. A reminder of who he is and that he’s calling the shots right now. “Get up here.”

As soon as you’re in range to be gripped without roaming too far into frame, Roman locks his hands around you, manhandling you until your back is to his chest. His hand is around your throat, squeezing just tight enough to restrict but not stop your breathing as he threads a finger between your ass cheeks, poking at the rim of your hole. For a second, he cinches his grip on your neck, causing another tear to roll down your face, adding another streak of mascara to the dried marks from your finger fucking.

“Call my name one more time baby, and I won’t just ruin your pussy.” To emphasis his point, he bullies the tip of his finger inside, grinning when you whinge at the dry, hot pain. “And trust me, no amount of spit is gonna help you then. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.” He pulls his fingers back from your ass, your sigh of relief cut off by his stiffening grip on your windpipe once more. Instead, you let out a pathetic mix of sputtering and moaning. You deliberately try to stay limp for him, obedient, but when he brings the fingers he’d been fucking you with to your mouth your muscles automatically tense. His warm digits pass your lips, and he brushes his musty fingers on your tongue, forcing you to taste the bittersweetness of both holes. You instinctively try to protest but all that comes out again is weak gasp and strings of drool.

“You like how you taste?” He mocks. “Like being choked?”

If you say yes, he might do it more. If you say no, he’ll definitely do it more, so you hedge your bets and nod for him, coughing out a sad little “yes” around his finger.

“Fuckin’ whore.” That infuriating laugh, again. This time more to himself than to you as he releases your neck and steps away from the bed. He surveys you for a moment, examining your position on the bed as you gasp for air before grabbing the tripod and moving it further down the bed.

“Get on your hands and knee, facing the camera this time.” Once you’ve caught your breath, you reposition yourself as instructed. Weary eyes watching as Roman retrieves his mask from the nightstand. The cosmetic red eyes stare you down as he crosses the room to stand behind you. The bed dips under his weight and your hazy brain finally clicks why he’d been so pissed at you for using his name. It’s not just a humiliation thing. He intended from the beginning to remain anonymous, even if the video was solely for himself.  Everybody knew Roman was Black Mask, but nobody could irrefutably prove it, a technicality that kept him out of prison.

The train of thought however is lost when Roman barks out his next instruction. “Take the bra off.”

You're way passed modesty at this point. Frankly, you're relieved to be rid of the plasticky faux feathers digging into your cleavage.

If your bare and open core had been the money shot, this would be the clickbait. A Wayne Scion stripped naked and practically presenting herself for one of Gotham's most notorious crime lords. Sure, nobody could confirm it was him, but between the voice, the suit, and the mask, it was obvious.

You’re grateful when Roman doesn’t spend much time admiring or groping at your breasts, but that gratitude is quickly swallowed by torment when he starts repeatedly thrusts his shaft into your slit, denying your cunt in favour of teasing your clit. The sensation causes you to clench around nothing. Having barely come down from your previous orgasm, your body greedily wants more.

“You should know by now what I want to hear.” Roman croons, securing a hand on your waist to keep you still as he drags the tip of his cock between your folds. He wants you to plead, and at this point you'd do anything to finally feel him inside you. “Don’t make me ask you for it.”

“Please, Daddy.” Clearly also feeling eager, Roman is quick to line himself up with your entrance, pushing in just deep enough to part your labia, but withholding any satisfaction. You let out a salacious moan, nonetheless. “Please fuck my cock hungry pussy!”

“Oh, I’m not just gonna fuck it, baby.” His cock plunges into you without resistance. He’s not overtly thick, but your walls immediately start spasming and stretching around him, hugging him tightly in all the right places. Mouth and pussy drooling for him in an instant as he begins ramming in and out of you, allowing you no time to adjust. It hurts like hell for a few moments, but the pain is so worth the pleasure. “I’m gonna ruin it. That’s what you wanted, right? Want me to pound this filthy fuckin’ cunt like nobody else ever has. You're not gonna want anyone else by the time I’m done with you.”

Every nasty word out of his mouth feels like a threat, it only adds to the sex drunk haze that fogs your mind, and he just keeps snarling. For the first time in your tenuous relationship, you hope he never shuts the fuck up.

“You fuckin’ love it.” He snaps, gripping the back of your neck to keep your head up, all the while slamming into you at a painful pace, knocking the wind out of you as you sob for the camera. “Say it. Say you fucking love being a helpless whore, split open on Daddy dick.”

Any words out of your mouth at this point are completely unintelligible at best. Broken, feeble cries at worst. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. Eventually you manage to muster a small “Please… please I want…”, relying on Roman’s strength as you reach for your clit. You’re so damn close, you just need that little push. “Want to cum.”

To his credit, Roman knows exactly what you’re asking for, batting your uselessly pawing hands out of the way so he can rub at your tender bud in short teasing motions, making you arch your back into him.

“You’ll cum when I cum.”

“C-cum in me.” Once again, your voice is barely a whisper, strangled by your tensing muscles, shaken with every snap of Romans hips as you selfishly beg for his release so that he’ll give you your own. “Fill my whore pussy, please, daddy.”   

Sick, loud, slapping echoes through the room as Roman hammers into you, using your body to chase his orgasm in bruising, frenzied strokes. His body shudders, breath growing hoarse as he finds it. The combined feel of fingers kneading your clit, and the heat of his seed releasing inside your guts has you tumbling straight after him.

“Take it.” The command isn’t necessary, your walls are milking him for all he’s got as your body trembles beneath him, ecstasy making every aching bone feel like putty as he ladens your sex with his seed. He just loves the sound of his own voice. “Take all of it you greedy little bitch.”

Roman’s breathing is erratic. He stays put, dick growing soft inside you for a long time as he steadies himself. As your high begins to falter you start to process the reality of what you’ve just done. Fortunately, you can find solace in the fact that it’s over.

To nobodies’ surprise, Roman is the first to talk. Finding his voice again as he finally pulls out of you.

“I was serious you know.” A chill runs along your back as he skims a finger between your swollen folds, collecting the excess of his cum. “I've got some live-in cam models over in Tail’s End. You’ve got the potential to make it big, doll.”

“No thanks.” Despite your deadpan, when he guilds your weak body up and shoves his sticky fingers in your face, you open wide, unashamedly cleaning every speck until he retracts them. You watch as he holds them up to the light, inspecting your work. Face now hidden behind his fearsome mask, you’ve no idea what he might be thinking which is probably his intent.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, your body falling forward at the sudden weight displacement as he stands. Your legs are still like jelly, so you resolve not to move until they’re steady or he’s gone. Which ever happens first.

“I gotta head out in a minute, you know your way to the door, right?” You only nod. Quickly coming down from your post-orgasm high whilst you watch Roman making himself presentable again. Well, mostly presentable. He re-buttons his shirt, straightens his tie, and redons his gloves. There is however a wet patch on his crotch, cause by you no doubt. Dependant on where he’s going, you wouldn’t put it past him to leave it on display so he can brag about his latest lay. “Oh, some of Penguins boys are trying to move in on The Basin. Be careful if you're passing that way.”

“Why?” He got what he wanted from you. What should he care what happens to you know? Tim is currently building a case on Cobblepot. So, the only part of that statement you care about is how you’re going to feed that intel to him without revealing your source.

“I don’t want that creature puttin’ his hand on what’s mine.” What’s his? He says it so factually it’s almost laughable. Sure, he’d been a good fuck, but that wasn’t enough to keep you coming back to him. Cocky bastard.

Despite your derision, you nod, humouring him. The sooner he leaves, the better. Then you’ll rarely have to see him again. “Right.”

“Don’t clean up.” He rattles off another demands, now focused on the camera. His hands work quickly, turning it off and ejecting the memory card so fast it must be muscle memory. He’s done this sort of thing before. How many others had he extorted like this? When the memory card is tucked safely away in his wallet, Roman scoops the discarded panties from the floor, pressing them to his wooden nose and sniffing before tossing them over to you. “Put those back on. I want you to stink of your own arousal all the way home. Want you to feel all that cum inside you and know who put it there.”

You can’t hold your contempt back any longer at this point. Glaring, you scoff at him. “I’ll pass.”

“I don't think you understand the nature of our arrangement.” He snarls back. You were so close to being rid of him but now he’s doubling back to you. The permanent leer of his masks red eyes staring you down as he leans close to your supine form. “You don't get to pass.”

“My debt to you is paid.” You spit. When you make to sit up his gloved hand latches onto your jaw, muffling your speech as you try to argue with him. “Tonight was me getting straight with you.”

“Thats right.” His faux-soft tone contrasts with the demeaning drip of spit he aims onto your cheek. In retaliation you attempt to pull away, digging your nails into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to no avail. “I’ll make sure nobody in Gotham, especially that bitchboy father of yours ever finds out about your little incident.”

Rubbing in his control over you, Roman begins massaging his saliva into your skin. Seemingly trying to clean up your smudged make-up, no doubt purposefully smearing it further around your face.  

“But unless you want the contents of our little home video on the homepage of every tabloid and gossip site in the country, you'll keep doing as I say.”

The reality of the situation kicks in, and suddenly you do feel like a little girl. Roman Sionis had tricked you, he’s never intended to make things even. From the moment he’d ‘requested’ a meeting, he’d been planning on keeping you under his thumb and like the naïve child you were, and you’d fell for it, every step of the way.  

“You promised nobody would ever see it.” Your voice is small and pitiful, even to you. No doubt Roman is grinning like a fat-cat beneath his veneer.

“And if you make a liar out of me, neither of us is going to be happy.” You’re not proud of the tears the follow, releasing Roman’s arm in favour of dabbing at your eyes. Breathing deeply, you try to stop from blubbering. You’re so angry, but you don’t have the energy to fight. “Now you're getting it.”

You sit stiffly as Roman’s leather clad hand wander your face. Patting and pinching your cheeks in mock affection.

“This is a cute look. Bet your brother's fawn all over it. Personally, I just wanna stick my dick between those pouty lips.”  His words sting, they make your stomach nauseous. Your brothers would fly of the handle if they could see you know. Jason in particular would probably be more pissed than your father.

Eventually Roman releases you, and you hastily stand to start redressing yourself, but as you do his cum begins to trickle out from your still gaping cunt, and you almost retch at the feeling.

“This must be hard for you. Tell you what, why don't you stay here? Avoid the family until you've come to terms.” Continuing to parody genuine tenderness, Roman catches your wavering body and brings you close, gently wrapping you up in his arms. You can’t deny it feels nice, his warmth, his smell. Your fickle centre betrays you, growing wet once more, even as the rest of your body wants to curl up and die from your foolishness. “I've got some business to attend to, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Get some rest, and when you're good and ready we’ll test how much of daddy’s cock you can take down your throat before you start choking?”

[sapphicforsarahh]

best hands i've ever seen

ship: loubbie x fem!reader

word count: 800+

warnings: dom!loubbie x sub!reader, no smut (yet), dom and sub themes, sexting

synopsis: debbie and lou are looking for a new crew mate for the newest heist plan, that's when you catch their eye.

A/N: let me know what you think of this and whether you'd like a second part!

"Deb, I'm telling you, this girl has some of the best hands I've seen," she whispers to her wife. Both of them watch as you perform magic tricks to people who are stupid enough to fall for them. "Look, watch this," Lou leans forwards from her chair and watches you attentively. Your hands cleverly moved to show the participants correct cards. As they looked at their friends in shock and awe, you confidently slip the gold engagement ring, decorated with a diamond, off this woman's finger and secretively slip it into your pocket, without a single one of them realising.

"Not too bad," Debbie agrees and Lou smirks in return. "A pretty girl too," Lou adds, Debbie hums in agreement. After the bystanders had walked off, it was just you left with Debbie and Lou in the distance. "What do you say Deb?", Lou tries to convince Debbie to consider you, knowing their could be other benefits of having you on the team. "Sure," Debbie says a bit more easily than Lou would've thought. Without another word, Debbie stands up, Lou quick to follow her and the couple begin to approach you.

You're sitting on your bucket, counting your previously 'earned' dollars when you hear an Australian voice grab your attention. "Hey, can I hel-", you look up to see the older couple. Jesus, were they beautiful. All the thoughts in your head disappeared and you somehow managed to mumble out, "is there anything I can do for you ladies?". Debbie chuckles out, "we've got a charmer here."

One of the women stood with a dark, grey trench coat that pretty much hid her entirely black outfit, but still managed for her stiletto heels to stick out. The other, a blonde, stood taller with a sophisticated yet sexy leopard print coat. The dark, green lapels of her blazer were peeking through and you noticed her chest and hands were complimented by stacks of jewellery, most likely 24 carat gold.

"Me and my wife here noticed how skillful you are with your hands," Debbie started, taking off her shades and looking down at you with alluring deep, brown eyes. "We were wondering, if you could help us with something?" Lou added, also taking off her sunglasses, her eyes juxtaposed with her wife, as she met your gaze with light, blue ones.

You clear your throat with anxiousness, wondering what these women had proposed to you. "Uh, what is it?", you finally plucked up the courage to ask. "Come with us sweetheart, we'll explain everything," Lou said, placing her fingertips on your chin, making the power dynamic even greater.

You nod obediently, not wanting to upset these clearly powerful women. Debbie and Lou stand to the side whilst they watch you collect your things. "She's obedient isn't she," Lou chuckled, grabbing onto the lower of her wife's back. "Always a good thing, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Debbie looks at her wife with a raised brow, knowing her full intentions with this girl. As Lou was going to answer, you walked over with your bag on your back and ready to follow these women to wherever they were taking you.

"Let's get going, I bet you're eager to find out what we want, aren't you sweet girl?", Lou teases, walking forward and placing her hand on your back. "Yeah," you managed to squeak out, before the the two women pushed you into the taxi. Debbie sat in the front, whilst Lou got in the back with you. You tried to distract yourself by looking outside the window but you just couldn't concentrate on anything else apart from the insanely good-looking blonde next to you. Finally, you decide to stare at your feet and choose that as the safest option. The sound of Lou's ruffling coat caught your attention but you didn't look up. She took her phone from her pocket and looked at the notification from Debbie.

| Debbie: finish what you were going to say earlier love x.

You silently watch Lou smirk and quickly text back:

| Lou: i was going to say she’d be a good toy x.

she listened to every word we said without questioning it, we could break her in no time x.

Your eyes widened in shock at how these two women were talking about you. I mean would you really want that? Maybe you would!

| Debbie: good call baby, we'll discuss when we're back home x speaking of, i need you to take care of me once we're back i need you so badly honey x

You really try hard to hold back any reaction to the obvious sexting that's occurring in the back of this taxi, and it must've worked because all you hear is a small groan from Lou before she put her phone away.

-------

Taglist: @mllkw33ds @isle-of-earle @chillinftladygaga @cordeliaswife @angelick1sses @gmtsu @thenazwife @ladysc @midnightlove30 @blanchettlovebot

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[osleeplessflowero]

✨~📖Fairytale Series📖~✨

Previous Part 💙 First Part ❤️ the show must go on. ;) so here's another oneshot! oh, do i love enemies to lovers.. it's mostly nightmare focused but there'll be more oneshots with this plotline so the others will get more time to shine later!

Stars twinkle overhead in the night sky. The church's bells ring in unison as you walk down a long hallway, adjusting your crown so it doesn't slip with an irritated look.

Today was..a stressful one, to say the least.

As a ruler, you take pride in hosting various beautiful parties for the people of your kingdom. Nobility, working class, peasants..anyone may attend, which has led to quite a lot of gossip..gossip that sometimes caught the attention of the wrong crowds.

This morning, you'd received word that a ruler from a neighboring kingdom would be attending your event today..one you had planned to avoid all contact with, having known the terrible rumors about him..and having met him before. A monster who overtook his kingdom by force..cruel to his subjects. Corrupt. You'd rather not associate with someone like that..but it seems you have no choice.

Walking into the ballroom, you put on your best performed smile, walking over to a throne that had been placed down and thanking your staff for moving it for you, sitting down on a high balcony so you can oversee everyone below.

"May the festivities commence!" You call out, hearing cheers from those below and letting out a contented sigh. At least you can embrace their enjoyment until a certain someone arrives..

The band plays their best songs with smiles, the various groups of humans and monsters alike dancing together on the ballroom floor..a bright, brilliant chandelier shines above them all.

This is all you've ever truly wanted..peace among your kingdom. People being able to get along and coexist without fail..your parents had never seen your vision when they were still here, but now? Well..you've proven them wrong. Peace is the right answer..true bliss.

..That is interrupted when the entrance doors slam open. The crowd gasps. You stand, putting your hands on the railing in front of you.

"What is the meaning of this?" You ask, eyes darting around.

Gasps move around the room like wildfire. Everyone turns to the entrance, wondering who could be causing such a ruckus.

Two skeletons enter the ballroom, standing side by side. One with a large grin on his face, the other's shrouded in the shadow of his hood.

"ladies and gentlefolk! wow, is this a beautiful party! really outdid yourself up there, your majesty!"

"and now..we are proud to announce.." The hooded one strains a word there as the two of them hold their arms to the door.

"the arrival of his majesty!" They say together.

An uncomfortable aura fills the room..a chill goes down your spine as a faint green light is seen visible burning in the darkness of the entranceway.

A king steps out, a calm but sly grin on his face. His body is stained with some sort of substance..his attire a dark shade of green to match his single bright eyelight. He leans a cane on the floor, standing between the two as another guard stands behind him..almost as if he doesn't want to be associated.

"king nightmare!"

You feel your grip on the railing tighten. First he has the audacity to show up uninvited and now he feels the need to interrupt the party with an introduction? How self centered can you be?

His grin stretches a bit as he looks up at you. He's revelling in your anger. He can definitely feel it..

"Oh my, isn't that.. the rumored 'King of Negativity'? What's he doing here?" The party members gossip. "I heard he took over his kingdom by banishing his brother somewhere so he would have complete control..how cruel." "I hear he feeds off of the negativity of others..like a leech."

"Your majesty.." He looks up at you, holding out a hand. "Lovely party you're having. I must send my compliments to your decorators..even if it is much too bright for my tastes."

"King Nightmare..what a pleasure. Seems you decided to attend after all." Your smile is strained as you make your way over to the staircase on your left to go down and greet him.

"How could I miss something like this? A party held in one of the most notoriously peaceful kingdoms around..I simply had to see it for myself."

You clear your throat. "Everyone, please continue indulging in the festivities!"

People murmur amongst themselves before the band catches the hint, playing their music again and allowing them to dance and mingle once more.

"Why are you here?" You ask, blunt now that everyone's eyes have been turned away. "There has to be a reason. I heavily doubt you came here for a bit of fun. That's not your thing."

"Such an observant little ruler.." "Do not patronize me."

He snaps his fingers, getting the attention of the others. "Boys, go do something. I'm dismissing you for the evening."

"hell yeah! c'mon dusty, let's go get some drinks." The more energetic skeleton drags the tired one away, the much taller and..honestly more threatening skeleton in the back moving to lean on one of the walls to keep watch.

"What are you planning? You're nowhere near the type to indulge in festivities." "Am I not allowed to visit a potential business partner?" "I have no interest in doing business with You." You glare at him, earning a chuckle as he makes his cane disappear. He holds out his hand to you, making you raise a brow in confusion.

People begin to notice, glancing over curiously and beginning to gossip.

"This is a party..won't you do me the honor of a dance, Your Majesty?"

"With..little respect due, your grace, I would rather my soul shatter in front of all these people." "That could be arranged." His eyelight glows menacingly, but you refuse to back down.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You scoff, turning away before he grabs your hand, pulling you over to him. You feel your heart skip a beat as you look up into his eye, shocked.

"You know nothing of what I want, my dear. But for now, we may as well put our true wants aside and enjoy the evening. Isn't that what you'd prefer?"

You look around, everyone's eyes on the two of you. Damn it.

You strain a new smile. "Fine. You want a dance? Let's dance."

His signature smirk you'd love to punch off of his face in front of the hundreds attending slides its way back onto his face as the song changes. The two of you move in sync, despite the occasional intentional slips you pull that he unfortunately knows just how to correct. Every move, he knows how to match it. How the hell does he do that? It's annoying..

You go to say something when he spins you out away from himself quickly, grabbing something midair before pulling you back against him. You raise a brow in confusion before he shows you the dagger he'd just caught.

"Seems even in a peaceful land there's someone who'd want you dead. How ironic." "..I'm not going to thank you for that." "Thanks isn't something I'm looking for."

Killer leans on one of the tables, raising his browbones at some ladies that pass by who giggle in reply, earning a smack on the head from Dust.

"focus, we've gotta make sure nightmare isn't harmed here."

"oh, c'mon, dusty! he can handle himself just fine- pluuus we're dismissed, don't you wanna have a little fun? maybe meet someone new?"

"i don't have time to waste on things like that. i'm sure horror feels the same way, right horror?"

"don't talk to me."

Killer turns to the two of you. "you know..their majesty's pretty mysterious..they've caught my interest."

"you have no chance of catching the eye of a ruler, killer."

"i bet i could! i'd just have to have an opportunity..whenever nightmare gets tired of..looking at them like that."

"hmm." There's a pause. "..i guess they do seem pretty interesting.."

"see!" Killer replies, earning a shrug from Dust.

Soon enough other dancers on the floor move around you both in circles, leaving you in the center where everyone can watch your glares at one another.

"I truly do loathe you, your majesty." "What a wonderful thing to say, your grace." He grins at you as the music begins to fade out, before spinning you and dipping you as everyone gasps.

"You have such a way with words."

You shiver at his whisper, feeling heat rise to your face as the glare in your eyes intensifies. If people weren't watching, you'd smack him right here.

He raises you back up, looking from your eyes to your lips briefly before letting you go. "Wonderful dancing skills, your majesty. I'm sure you had a lovely teacher. Maybe work on those slips, though."

"You little.."

He waves you off as he walks away. You walk gracefully into another room, before immediately running over to one of the sofas and screaming into a pillow. Oooh, you're gonna counter him one day if it's the last thing you do!

"so, boss, how'd it go?"

"I'll be coming back here very soon. I'm assuming you'll be joining me?"

"of course! wouldn't miss it for the world." Killer lets out a chuckle.

[adiluv-moved]

❥ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 + 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒. ˚⊹꒷

📜୧・꒰word count꒱ 1099.

🎐୧・꒰warnings꒱ takes place pre-manor.

🍦୧・꒰adi moment꒱ a commission for @mellisono! literally loved writing this, frederick has been ever steadily growing on me and this is such an adorable prompt! if you're interested in commissioning me, you can find more into through my intro post! hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི´｡•᎑•`꒱ྀི১

꒰🎹꒱・Having been raised as a member of the aristocracy, the idea of marrying a person for ‘love’ has always been unthinkable to Frederick. A common belief among people of his status, the only real motivation to wed a person was for the sake of bettering your social standing—more so a business transaction than anything even remotely romantic. His exile from the Kreiburg lineage would plague him with the idea that he’d be destined to remain a bachelor until death, losing both the money and status that his fellow nobles sought after. Those notions would be very quickly redefined once you’d entered his life, the thought of proposing to you becoming more and more alluring as your relationship progressed.

꒰🎹꒱・He’s got a minimum of twenty pieces dedicated solely to you, and it’d really only make sense for him to incorporate them into his proposal! Bits and pieces of melodies that you’d helped him refine, motifs from your favorite songs, cute jingles and chimes that you’ve heard whilst walking with him—it’s the composition he’s worked both the longest and hardest on, wanting to perfectly convey just how happy you make him; how much better his life is, thanks to you. His intentions are clear as crystal when he asks you to listen to a ‘special’ piece, his face matching the hue of his garnet coat as he slides the engagement ring onto your finger.

꒰🎹꒱・The two of you would live in an apartment somewhere in the heart of Paris. Small but cozy, sheet music in nearly every corner with a balcony that overlooks the rest of the city. Frederick is initially rather discontented by this living situation, a sense of shame for only being able to afford something so small. He’ll make a few off-handed comments, saying that it’d be better for you to “marry a man that can buy you a house instead of this shoddy apartment,” but he’s secretly relieved when you reassure him that he’s the one for you. There’s something so… comforting about knowing you love him regardless of financial status—even when he feels most others consider him to be a failure.

꒰🎹꒱・He becomes far more open and affectionate after the wedding. While not necessarily the best at singing your praises, there’s a very noticeable improvement in his abilities to express affection verbally. He’s far more straightforward with his compliments, gaining the confidence to directly comment on something you do well or something as simple as how gorgeous you look while going about your day. Frederick also opens up more about the issues he faces with his family, who ꒰unsurprisingly꒱ didn’t show up to your wedding. Your friends and family make quick work of saving the mood, but he writes his parents a very strongly worded letter once you both return from the honeymoon. Even more, he swears off all contact with them until they apologize, a decision that you never would’ve expected him to make.

꒰🎹꒱・Still, he continues to remain shy when it comes to more intimate forms of affection, like kissing. ꒰Something you get great joy in teasing him about.꒱ As such, the ones he gives you tend to be rather chaste in nature, like quick kisses on the cheek—or lips, if he’s feeling bold—before he rushes away to continue working on compositions. You’ll have to initiate anything more than that, something he’s eternally grateful for—even if he is too embarrassed to admit it. He’ll also always make sure to give you a quick smooch before heading on stage for any performances, regarding it as good luck. Although he appears straight-faced to the audience, you’re able to catch sight of the faint blush dusting his cheeks from your spot behind the curtains.

꒰🎹꒱・Frederick’s a bit of a hit or mess when it comes to housework. Having lived independent of his family for some time before meeting you, he does have the capability to take care of himself..! Though there are times where you’re reminded that he never grew up having to do any sorts of chores. He hates having to deal with anything dirty, meaning that there’s a fair amount of collaboration between the both of you. He’ll cook the food, and you’ll do the dishes afterwards. Whenever you wash the clothes, he’s the one that puts them up to dry. He’ll do some light dusting and cleaning, but larger messes scare him off.

꒰🎹꒱・At some point, he just comes to accept how much he adores cuddling with you. A workaholic since his youth, he’d never exactly been able to understand how people could content themselves to just… sit back and do absolutely nothing—finding the idea boring enough to drive him mad. But, wow. He absolutely understands it now. Lying in bed while the first rays of sunlight sneak through the blinds, casting an ethereal glow on your hair and face as he holds you in his arms… Normally, he’d already be out of bed by dawn—even on days when his psychasthenia decided to have mercy and allow him a good night’s rest. But seeing just how adorable you look… Well, the idea of leaving you so soon just seems outright cruel.

꒰🎹꒱・Frederick’s weak spot is his hair, a fact you’d discovered accidentally whilst drifting off to sleep with him. A particularly bad bout of writer’s block certainly didn’t mix well with his insomnia, forcing him to remain awake as the both of you idly chatted and hummed tunes in an attempt to restore his creative spark. At some point, you’d started to massage his scalp—the sensation initially causing him to stiffen beneath your touch. Your attempt to pull away and check in on him was quickly interrupted as he pressed your hand back into his hair, asking you to continue. The stresses of his day-to-day life just seem to melt away with your touch, it seems.

꒰BONUS꒱・Although he considered it cheesy, he often regards your wedding day as the  best day of his life—and he keeps the wedding attire in pristine condition. They sit in the back of your shared closet, the thought of them becoming dirty or damaged utterly devastating him. While you’d lived long enough to know of canes marking members of the nobility, it’d been the very first time that you’d seen him using one of his own. Considering the other costs of the wedding, it hadn’t exactly been all that luxurious ꒰a fact that he quietly keeps to himself꒱—though you might just see him using it more often if you tell him you like it. Don’t mention it, really. He’ll get flustered.

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[saintsir4n]

MEET THE MIKAELSONS

where klaus and Adrienne do a GQ interview

▃▃▃▃

•

"Nik, stop sulking," Adrienne laughed at her husband, knowing he wanted to be anywhere else. She motioned for him to smile, but he simply ran his hand through his curls that he decided to grow out, then threw up his hands and gestured for questions, "All alright, let's get this over and done with," he murmured, earning another giggle from his wife. "You heard the man, quiet on set guys," she mimicked him, drawing laughter from the crew and a small smile from the hybrid.

•

"Love, come here," Klaus whispered as the crew were finishing setting up their mics. "We have to sit in separate chairs," Adrienne replied with a pout and before he could reply, the main producer who stood between them said, "When it's time for Adrienne to ask questions, then she can sit on your lap or whatever you prefer." Klaus hummed in satisfaction, making his wife smile, "you happy now?" She asked, "I will be when you're next to me," his answer made most of the crew stare at them in adoration and awe.

•

Marcel told me to tell you not to piss off Mom with your answers, Klaus rolled his eyes at the message he received from Malachai, then showed it to his wife, who immediately laughed, "They're right." Adrienne stated, shrugging before adding, "but, we should tell them not to watch this when it comes out... right?" Klaus pondered as he put his phone back in his pocket, "...right."

•

Adrienne sat comfortably across from her husband who played with his ring-clad fingers and brushed his hair out of his eyes. His long-sleeved henley shirt tightened around his arms with every movement. He sat there staring at her with a slight daze with one leg over the other waiting for the make-up team to finish her touch-ups.

Adrienne wore a double denim co-ord; her short skirt revealed her silky legs, similar to the jacket that left a few buttons undone, showcasing that she was completely topless underneath until every few minutes her husband moved her goddess braids to conceal what only he got to see.  

•

"Hey guys I'm Adrienne Mikaelson and-" she quickly got cut off, "and many people call me Klaus the mad," Klaus stated with a grin, staring at the camera as Adrienne chuckled, "No one calls you that," she paused and turned to the camera, "no one does."

"I don't appreciate the dishonesty Ria and neither do the fans," Klaus responded smugly before the producer nicely asked them to reintroduce themselves.

"Let's do this again," Adrienne said, shooting her husband a pointed look, that he raised an amused brow at. "I'm Adrienne Lumière."

"What?"

"...And we're getting divorced."

"Cut the bloody cameras!"

•

"Take three," the producer slammed down the clapperboard, then nodded to the couple who were currently flipping each other off, "Guys behave please."

"I'm Adrienne Mikaelson and this dashing man is," Adrienne gestured to her husband, who smirked at the compliment, "Niklaus Mikaelson and I'm here to best my wife."

Adrienne threw her arms up in the air as Klaus covered his grin with his cards.

•

"Take four and guys-"

"Shannon, I dare you to slam that clapperboard down again," Klaus warned the producer who swiftly looked at his wife with pleading eyes.

"Nik, be nice or you won't get the prize," Adrienne said with an innocent shrug, "what prize?" he quickly leaned forward, waiting for her response, "You know those lingerie sets I got from the Fenty show I performed at?" she lowly spoke, making his eyes widen, "you will never see me in them if we don't get through this okay? now pick up your jaw from the floor and introduce yourself properly."

•

"Hello people I don't know or will never meet," Klaus gritted out, "I am Klaus Mikaelson and this is my darling wife-" Adrienne continued, "Adrienne Mikaelson and this is the GQ couples quiz."

•

1. How many tattoos do I have?

Adrienne didn't even need to think before she answered, "He has five, the birds on his shoulder which connect to a feather, Marcel and Malachai's birthdays and he has the word 'enigma' for me."

"Easy question love," he winked at her.

"Shut up."

"Harsh."

•

2. When is my birthday?

"8th of April, he's an Aries with a Gemini moon," she answered, brushing her shoulder.

"I wish I could fathom what she said," Klaus spoke, looking directly at the camera."It's a very simple thing," Adrienne said, glancing around at the crew who nodded, then shrunk back after noting the glare on the hybrid's face.

"Simple my arse."

"And what a lovely ass it is," Adrienne blew him a kiss, causing a red tint to kiss his cheeks. "Moving on," he whispered with a bashful smile.

•

3. Who fell in love first?

"Nik, definitely Nik."

"How could I not," Klaus said, staring at her, "pan the camera to my wife."  The cameraman did just that, zooming in on the woman who had been at the top of many lists for the most desirable woman for a few years now.  Adrienne giggled and covered her face,  "stop it and ask another question."

"Oh is the pretty girl shy?"

The crew couldn't help but stare at them in awe, well until Adrienne began to threaten him.

"The pretty girl with put you into an early grave if you don't do what I say."

He feigned shock, "Romantic isn't she?"

"Yeah yeah."

•

4. Favourite part about my personality?

"He's constantly trying his best, whether helping me with my work or being more patient with our family and always trying to be there for me. Always trying in his own ways. Which is very comforting."

"Thank you, my love," he couldn't stop smiling.

•

5. Where did we have our first date?

"In the Euphoria, we both shared a beignet and just talked for hours. It wasn't meant to happen, he tricked me into it."

Klaus chuckled, "You didn't say no."

"Because of his stupid smile," Adrienne pouted and he started to boast, "I do have a great smile," Klaus nodded to himself, earning a few chuckles from the crew.  "Calm down, I slapped you on that date," Adrienne taunted, making him roll his eyes.

"Can't imagine why," they heard the main producer whisper to herself, which caused Adrienne to snort.

"What was that Shannon, could you speak up this time?" Klaus asked loudly, startling the poor woman.

Shannon nervously waved him off, "Oh nothing, next question."

•

6. Have you ever written a song about me?

"I've written many songs about you honey," Adrienne cooed as she blew him a kiss, causing him to jokingly catch it and place it on his chest. "Many albums were written with Klaus the Mad for inspiration," he was about to continue but she hastily cut him off, "not Klaus the Mad, about you making me mad, sad, happy or..." she trailed off, leaving him to finish "loved and horny?"

"Yes."

"And she has won many awards that she dedicates to me and our family each time. Usually, I come last in the speech, because she adds some words that one could only use to describe a man so great."

Adrienne playfully rolled her eyes at him, "so humble."

"Wait, how many paintings does Klaus have of you?" A member of the crew yelled from afar, catching their attraction. Klaus grinned and gestured for his wife to answer, "From what I've seen and what I've peaked on, possibly thousands. That's not an exaggeration is it Nik?" The hybrid bashfully shook his head then replied, "Give it take a thousand."

"But most of his most popular and most famous work is hung in the Louvre, the Victoria and Albert Museum, The National Gallery and the Rijksmuseum," she listed making him smile brightly, "you remembered." He was taken aback by her knowledge, sometimes he thought she wasn't listening whenever he ranted but she always was.

"Of course I did, I need to visit the new masterpiece in Amsterdam," she paused noting the blush kissing his cheeks, "is it of me?"

Disregarding her first question, he said, "I'll take you there for your birthday since you've been dying to go for a while."

"Awe, you remembered."

"Of course, we've been together for what feels like a century," he teased knowingly, which the crew laughed at, believing it to be a joke.

"Til flere århundrer nik."

"Til flere århundrer min kjærlighet."

"Y'all can speak old Norse? How isn't that a dead language?" Another crew member spoke up after he used Google Translate to decipher what had been said.

The couple laughed to themselves before Adrienne replied, "Like we said, it's felt like a century..."

•

7. What is my worst quality?

"Your paranoia, it even makes you not trust me sometimes and you end up acting like a dick."

"Apologies," Klaus murmured, averting his gaze, feeling his wife's eyes burning into the side of his head.

•

8. What turns me on?

"Other than me being me, he loves when I wear his clothes or when I'm angry. When I shout at him, that usually gets in the mood so quickly." Klaus stiffly nodded at her answer, earning a few questioning looks, "You're turned on now aren't you?"

"...no."

•

9. My favourite relative?

"Other than me and our sons, definitely either Hadeon or Rebekah."

Klaus couldn't help but roll his eyes, knowing his siblings would start on him when they saw him.

•

10. Which one of my friends flirts with you too much?

"Kai and Lucien, Kai because he acts like I named our son after him and it pisses Nik off a lot. Lucien because he always flirts with me, especially when Nik is around," she informed the camera. "Don't forget Stefan," Klaus added, earning a hum from Adrienne, who said, "Definitely Stef."

"Stef?" Klaus asked with furrowed brows, "Since when did you call him Stef?"

"Oh god."

"Take a point away from her Shannon!" Klaus yelled, making Adrienne throw a water bottle sitting near her at his head, "Take five off for grievous bodily harm."

"Shut up."

•

11. Favourite sex position?

Adrienne snickered at the question, as did Klaus.

"He has three," she began to list as he stared at her heatedly, "but he loves cowgirl because he loves it when I take control even though he will never tell anyone about it."  He tossed his head back with a groan, "Love-" she quickly cut him off, "What? It's true."

Klaus snapped his head towards the main producer, "Shannon, she doesn't get the point if she lies right?"  Shannon vigorously shook her head, before answering,  "No she doesn't Mr Mikaelson." Adrienne gasped, "I am not lying."

"What are the other two positions then?" Klaus retorted smugly.

"They are kids are watching," Adrienne said in a hushed tone, to which her husband shrugged, "They've definitely heard worse." Adrienne couldn't disagree, "Sorry babies," she apologised to the camera, then turned to her husband and continued her list, "missionary, and the speed bump."

"The what?" someone from the crew yelled out as many people chuckled.

"You've never heard of it before?" Adrienne asked through her laughter, whilst Klaus stared at the camera confidently, "It's basically when the girl or guy is on their stomach and they are getting hit from the back and their ass is like a little speed bump."

Klaus turned to her, ignoring the laughter from the crew, "You love that don't you?"

Later, she mouthed making him grin.

•

12. Do we have a sex tape?

Adrienne rolled her eyes whilst the rest of the crew waited for her answer. Klaus turned to her, lifting the cards to block his face and mouthed, 'Just say no'.

"Shannon, he's telling me to say no," Adrienne quickly snitched on her husband, whose mouth gaped open. It didn't help that the people around them were laughing alongside the witch. "Shannon, stop rolling or I guarantee someone will stop breathing," Klaus hissed, causing the life to drain from the producer's face and all laughter to stop.

•

"The answer to that question was no, aren't I right my love?" Klaus insisted, staring at her with a pleading expression.

Adrienne stifled a laugh, "Mmm."

"What was that?"

She quickly cleared her throat and stated, "Yes, we do not have a sex tape, nor would we ever make one because it is bad and could have consequences if anyone were to ever find it... like your children."

"Or siblings or friends," Klaus quickly added, with a nervous look.

"Next round!"

▃▃▃▃▃▃

1. What's my favourite food? And don't say anything inappropriate.

Now sitting on her husband's lap, she waited for his answer. He was far less stingy and calmer as she combed her fingers through his hair. When he decided to answer, a cheeky smile kissed his lips, "Anything phallic." Adrienne immediately smacked his chest, ignoring the studio worker's laughter and hissed, "Shut up."

Still chuckling, the hybrid restated, "Fine my sweetheart likes pastries, can eat them all the time," he informed the camera, "Yes I ate them a lot when I was pregnant," Adrienne added, causing his grin to widen, "which reminds me, perhaps you should be agai-."

She cut him off, with a warning tone, "Don't."

•

2. Where's my favourite place I like to have sex?

"Other than the Bentley?" Klaus inquired and she nodded. "Any public place really."

"Shannon cut out the last part," Adrienne demanded, pinching the bridge of her nose, but her husband had other ideas, "Shannon, you will do no such thing!"

•

3. Who's my best friend?

"Rebekah will hate me for saying this, but Clementine or Valerie. I still don't like Valerie." he quickly added the last part, staring directly at the camera, whilst Adrienne just glanced at him, "She doesn't like you."

•

4. Your Favourite body part of mine? Keep it PG, please.

Klaus stared at her, with a highly amused expression, "If I keep it PG, then I would be lying," his statement gained a few chuckles from the crew, which grew when Adrienne flicked his forehead, "So vicious. But honestly, it's your face. Your beautiful face, that I continue to fall in love with more and more each day."

"Awe," the camera crew cooed as Adrienne hid her face in the crook of his neck until he decided to tease her more.

Klaus cleared his throat, "But as for my second favourite body part of yours, that has to be your v-"

"Next question!" Adrienne shouted over him.

"I was going to say your voice," he mumbled innocently.

"That's not a body part Nik!"

•

5. What do you do, that turns me on?

"When I look at you in your eyes," he answered immediately, not breaking eye contact, making his wife very flustered, "You're so annoying," she groaned and looked away. Lowering his head and trailing his fingers down her back, he whispered, "You're turned on right now aren't you sweetheart?"

•

6. What's a favourite moment of mine?

"You and Hadeon burning-" he quickly received a pinch to the neck, "that's not PG," she warned, shooting an innocent smile to the camera, then turning back to her husband, who begrudgingly spoke, "Fine giving birth to Malachai." his answer, earned a snort from Adrienne, "Fuck no, he nearly ripped me in half, you could've just said us being in Chicago."

•

7. What is a favourite moment of mine that we've shared?

"Renewing our vows in Paris," she grinned at his words, then said, "Loved that."

"I love you."

"I love you too... sometimes."

"Adrienne."

•

8. Do I have any tattoos?

Klaus chuckled to himself then turned to the camera, "She has one on the inside of her thigh and when the first time I saw it I-"

"Can he be censored, Shannon?" Adrienne pleaded.

"Don't bloody censor me, Shannon."

•

9. What do you love that I do? And kids are watching this.

Klaus picked up her available hand,  "She's a supportive and powerful woman, whenever I'm shutting down and feel borderline homicidal..."  Adrienne shook her head at the camera,  "He's kidding." Klaus continued, 'I'm not, but when it happens she is the most patient and understanding person in my life, whenever she's not a pain in the ass."

"Prick."

"Love you too."

•

10. What am I like when I'm drunk?

"She's needy but I love it, she gets very sentimental," Klaus said, with a loving look in his eyes, to which he gained a chaste kiss from Adrienne

"I'm always like that."

"Yes, but it's adorable when you're drunk."

•

11. Do you want to have more kids?

"Personally, I want a daughter," Klaus answered, turning to his wife, "Fine, then you can push out a daughter." she countered, making the crew laugh around them. "I want a little girl to raise," he huffed out, not taking his eyes off Adrienne, who decided to entertain the idea.

"What would you name our daughter?" she asked, to which he replied, "Well Malachai is named after an Angel, not Kai Parker. Marcellus is named after the god of Mars," he watched as an idea lit up her eyes, "What about Evangeline. It sounds angelic and Godly?"

Klaus happily clapped and discarded the remaining card in her hands, "Evangeline. Greek for good news and what great news she'd be when she is born in less than 10 months to come. Great idea love, Evangeline Mikaelson. it's decided!"

She quickly shook her head, "Not it's not."

•

"Thank you, GQ, my wife and I are off to make another child," Adrienne didn't have time to object because he swiftly picked her up and she had no choice but to hold on.

"No, we're not!"

He tore off their microphones and shot a nod to Shannon, then the rest of the crew, "Goodbye!"

•

POST CREDIT SCENE:

"No," Klaus stated, shaking his head at his wife's outfit for the interview, he had already tried to suggest something else before she walked out of her dressing room. "I'm wearing it, end of discussion and I see how you are looking at me, stop acting like you don't like this," Adrienne replied, waving him off as she came to stand In front of him, watching as he looked her up and down.

"Out," he demanded the workers who were trying to do their job. He needed to talk to his wife in private, so it wasn't long before they all rushed out of the green room and the door slammed shut.

"Adrienne," she didn't have time to react before he picked her up, drawing a yelp from her as she wrapped her legs around his torso and settled her arms around his shoulders. "What beloved?" She teased, catching the lust-filled glint in his eyes. "How long do we have until we have to do this God-awful interview?" He asked, trailing his hands over her behind and lowering his mouth to her jacket.

She gasped when he undid the two buttons with his teeth, revealing her breast to him. A growl emitted from his throat as he dragged his eyes up to hers. "We have thirty minutes..." she breathed out, making him run his tongue over his teeth.

"...we'll need an hour."

•

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a/n:

That is the end to my dark twisted fantasy’s story on wattpad I hope you all enjoyed it. I thought I addd a cute little one shot of them in the further.

it's been over a year and I'm so happy and grateful to all the people who have been here since the beginning and the most recent readers, who haven't stopped voting and commenting.

this was Adrienne's story and it's sad to say goodbye to one of my faves and all my other oc's. writing to her with everyone especially klaus was so special and so bittersweet to me and I loved every second of it.

- liv

[superconductivebean]

#919: imelda headcanons post

Whilst writing something anything for my wlw OTP's and OT3 has me in a perpetual state of stagnant gaze at the nearly empty sheet, I thought, what if I go full delulu and out of the writing way again.

If you've been following me for a while, you might've noticed this tag, #utlitd brainrot. It is the reservation for my magnum opus fic, its abbreviated name, yadda yadda yadda. I don't post about it often assumed it'll be super tiring to have my ramblings look nice -- even though this work is my MC's entire storyline lmao.

Anyhow, while working on it lots I've become to sit on some ideas and headcanons and -- not sharing them. I'm a criminal for this. I plea guilty. Some headcanons are brainrot-derived and marked as such.

Assuming you've not scrolled past my little hello note, IMELDA REYES HEADCANONS:

Butch lesbian. Accepted herself rather well but she was soon to realise finding someone isn't just a challenge, it's a quest;

Half-Spanish, Half-Scottish. Her grandparents and part of the family left Spain, fleeing the tumultuous change of its regimen;

Was born in Glasgow, Scotland. If the family decided to stay in Spain or to move back, would've attended Beauxbatons instead;

Relatives from the father's side live in Seville, mother's side of the family is stretched across Orkney Islands;

Learnt to ride the broom there btw, she's well-accustomed to the weather and especially, weather changes. If to name one of the reasons she is an amazing Chaser, this would be one of them;

Not as much of a headcanon as it is a tiny essay but! She doesn't like Seekers for a very peculiar reason, if not to downright call it a fundamental difference between a skill-dependent play and a luck-dependent play. She often irates at Seekers: they bask in attention and praised for their skill -- but Chasers rarely have a fraction of that, as if they perform a rotten work! That's her opinion. Bar in the grand scheme of things, Seekers are the different breed of team players. They have to count numbers and be on a constant chase & lookout for the snitch in order to win in numbers. 150 points for the snitch is only 15 times quaffle gets through the rings; you could imagine a scenario when 150 points aren't enough if not for the Chasers' work;

This one is pretty much implied canon: she doesn't like Gryffindors because a Gryffindor caused her father a permanent injury ('took his knees out', gruesome), hence he's disabled and can't walk on his own -- and has been unable to walk since his school years. Imelda is unlikely to had seen him riding a broom ever in her life;

Brainrot: despite the disability, her father is an avid Quidditch aficionado, goes to her every match and makes half the fannish noise because His Wee Little Mija Is Winning. He's not coming to watch her alone, in fact, half the family attends Slytherin matches. It is an important social link for Imelda;

She doesn't have many friends, if at all, which is also an implied canon (an npc slips a mean comment about her, saying she had only a broom for a friend);

Brainrot: support of the family, nonchalant attitude and dead-set goals built Imelda a sense of confidence, she knows what she wants and needs, perhaps, however, she is lacking simple silliness of life and that she isn't anyone's friend but a background celebrity weighs on her;

Brainrot: moreover, her rigid training regimen, partly inspired her childhood on the Orkney Islands, partly enforced by the former Toyoashi Tengu almost-player Madam Kogawa became to feel mundane. As she would put it, there isn't an opponent worthy of her time and skill. As I will say, it isn't as much a need in a rival as it is an ask for a feedback;

Although Imelda notes compliments make people go soft and that no one tells her she did a great job, and that she couldn't care less, she isn't truthful to herself. She needs positive feedback. However, positive feedback isn't praise for her;

After Black cancelled Quidditch for the year, Imelda took it harsh. It meant she was cut off from genuine reaction of the crowd at her play, wouldn't receive family's (dis)approve of performance, and wouldn't even have chances to train on the Pitch;

Brainrot: Imelda feels isolated, to say the least. She is naturally sensitive and quite talkative, insightful and outspoken, however, the mean attitude may have caused people to stray away from her. She does take notice of it but never seek reconciliation, knowing not many people would like to befriend her, besides, a new friend would do game if plays Quidditch or willing to challenge her, too. Time is valuable to her, it's a resource she'd like to spend on a person willing to take on and press on;

MC's timely arrival signified a potential to have someone new to get a hold of after Anne Sallow's untimely departure from the school and effectively, from the Slytherin Quidditch team. Anne was a beater;

Brainrot: to Imelda, Anne was another important social link. They weren't exactly friends but Anne's mischievous nature prompted Imelda to spend more time with her, Sebastian, and Ominis, as both pastime from Quidditch and a way to catch up with studies. Their company introduced her to students she'd normally would've not ever interacted with: Everett Clopton, Ravenclaw Keeper, disastrously ill-disciplined but overall harmless individual, yet too nonchalant to her liking; Garreth Weasley, whom she jokingly berates each time he blows up cauldrons but finds his expertise otherwise valuable whenever she needs help with Potions; Poppy Sweeting, a girl that alerts her to something but she hadn't a clue to what for quite an amount of time, she just knew she wasn't an another meek Hufflepuff; I imagine, @catohphm's Danny, Ravenclaw Seeker, would've been introduced to Imelda, too;

Brainrot: if u thought her and poppy had slowburn mutual pinning 300k words until the first kiss kind of thing going on in my head u are not wrong it is basically canon to me they're so different and unsure about each gesture -- or a suspicion there was an one -- it's as cute as it is silly as it is u just name it im gonna cry

She and @boxdstars' Amara probably are in each other's support group even after they completed the Find Girlfriend quest;

Imelda could use more sleep;

A straight O-student in Herbology and a straight E-student in DADA and Charms;

Has a deep respect for Aesop Sharp: if he finds it in himself to go and teach a bunch of dimwits how to brew potions out of seemingly sheer passion for the subject (he's able to tell the colour of the potion is wrong while nose deep into grading papers), just like her father is always eager to attend her games despite and in spite of his injury, she totally can be as motivated for Quidditch. Whenever someone has anything disparaging to say about Sharp, she would admit, she takes it personally;

What she also takes personally are mean comments and the lack of genuine interaction, and appreciation for who she really is. She's stuck, however: she is mean when there has to be insight, she is brash where it needs to be reflection, she simply shatters when she is wrong or pointed out her reasoning does loops and meandering.

The girl is lonely and insecure, she is naturally abrasive but isn't a massive bitch bomb; stubborn, easily dismayed by a sass response, I would also say, she is very capable of being meek or show at least some weakness when privy because upholding a veneer of someone tough but who isn't really her is a very emotionally tasking endeavour.

and if u'd like more imelda hcs including nsfw ones feel free to send me an ask 👉👈

some tags: @thriftstorebabayaga -- look it is breaching containment again @ladyofsappho @celestial--sapphic @rypnami @endeavour12345