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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 7 hours ago

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"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

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atzloverr · 2 days ago

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Our unsaid truths - chapter 4

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

cw: cheating (Y/n didn’t), past relationship (trauma? if u can call it that), food mentioned, Yunho flirts a littleeeee

pairings: poly!atz x reader, Hongjoong x reader, Yunho x reader

You had to admit that it hurt, seeing him after all these years. Seeing him was a harsh reminder. All those memories you had prayed for your mind to forget all came rushing back to you in a second.

”You okay there?” Hongjoong waved in front of your distracted eyes. ”Oh, yeah sure!” you smiled brightly, trying your best to make it look natural.

You told Hongjoong a white lie about having to go get some makeup-remover, just so you could be by yourself for a bit, and also flee from the situation that you feared would occur.

You hadn’t seen Minjun ever since that night. That night when you finally confronted him about the cheating.

You could still envision it so vividly, his collection of lies and threats when you told him what you had seen, read, heard. Seeing him now, seeing that his life seemed so unaffected by it, that was what made it so hard.

You looked at the time - you didn’t want to make Hongjoong suspicious by being away for too long - and you figured you had to go back now.

For every step you took, you looked around, making sure you wouldn’t bump into him. You didn’t care about that asshole, so why did you feel such a strong need to prove yourself to him? Prove that you were fine? That what had happened hadn’t affected you either?

No sane person would be unaffected by a year-long relationship ending like that, so why did you crave him to have that idea of you?

”Do we have everything?” you asked Hongjoong after the longer-than-usual walk back to him. You prayed he didn’t notice when you still looked over your shoulder every now and then.

”Yeah, I think that’s it!” Hongjoong smiled before the two of you started making your way to the cashiers.

These little trips to the grocery store that you sometimes accompanied Hongjoong on were some of the few times you actually spend one-on-one time with him.

You knew how much he meant to Seonghwa, so therefore he meant a lot to you too, before you had even met him.

You helped Hongjoong load the groceries, hearing him mutter something about how expensive everything was nowadays. You laughed at his frown, finding his little annoyed face adorable.

Everything felt fine, until you suddenly felt a big hand meet your shoulder. Your eyes widened, and your smile dropped before you could even turn around, because you knew that touch.

You had seen him approach in the corner of your eye, but you just kept your back turned, praying that he wouldn’t see you.

”Y/n? Is that really you?” you heard his voice say. You took a deep breath before turning around.

”Minjun? Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” you said with that smile that you often used at work, that customer-service smile that everyone seemed to fall for. Minjun wasn’t exactly smart, so you doubted that he’d notice.

”Wow, it really has!” he said before doing what made you instantly stiffen. You hated the familiarity in his grip as he wrapped his arms around you.

”And you are?” Hongjoong asked from behind you, having just loaded the last of the things.

Minjun finally backed off, raising his eyebrows at Hongjoong with a smile. ”Haven’t told your new boyfriend about me? Wow I’m hurt,” he said, grabbing his chest and frowning. You were about to try and laugh it off before making some excuse about being in a hurry or something, but Hongjoong beat you to it.

”Sorry, but would you mind leaving? There’s a line behind you, and I don’t think they appreciate you standing in their way.”

You could hear that Hongjoong was pissed off, but he - like you - also had a big, fake smile on his face. You endured the last seconds of Minjun’s company in discomfort as he unfortunately felt the need to hug you again, and make some snarky remark about your new boyfriend being ’cute and tiny’.

You and Hongjoong stayed silent as you walked to the car, and the second you heard the rumble of the engine, you took a deep breath. You knew you had to say something, give him an explanation, maybe just an excuse.

”Who’s he?” Hongjoong asked, tone stiff. He was clearly annoyed. ”He’s my ex.”

You looked down into your lap, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your knitted sweater. ”How are you feeling?” he asked, and you looked at him in confusion. You had expected him to interrogate you, ask you when you dated, for how long, how and why things ended, why you would ever date such a guy, and so on. But no. He just asked you how you felt.

”Well, honestly…” you started after a pause. ”Seeing him really hurt.”

Hongjoong hummed, encouraging you to continue. ”I thought I’d be over it, but honestly, it was worse than ever today.”

You watched the road as Hongjoong took a different route, the one that took 20 minutes, instead of just 10. ”Go on,” Hongjoong said as you paused.

You sighed. ”Please, I don’t want to burden you with my past relationships. I don’t even talk to Seonghwa about this—” you tried, but Hongjoong shook his head with determination. ”You won’t burden me one bit, Y/n. All I want is for you to feel safe, feel comfortable.”

You smiled at those words before thinking of where to start.

”…I first met Minjun when we were just eighteen.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You exhaled deeply when Hongjoong pulled up to the driveway. The little detour you took turned out to be an even longer one than expected, but you couldn’t complain one bit. You had told Hongjoong about your past relationship, how worried you felt that the same thing would happen again, how you doubted yourself, how you wondered if it had all been your fault.

Hongjoong listened as you rambled on, and you were so thankful that he didn’t judge you, that he didn’t call your worries immature or irrational.

When you were about to get home, Hongjoong said something that seemed to be exactly what you wanted to hear.

”You really are amazing, Y/n,” he said softly. You blinked in confusion at the unexpected comment. ”I don’t think you understand how admirable you are, and how much you really mean to all of us,” Hongjoong continued.

You were at a loss for words. ”And hearing that you’ve managed to handle all of this - all of us - even when you’ve been through these things, it shows how strong you are.”

”Hongjoong, you don’t have to say this just because—”, ”No, listen. I mean every single word I say. We all trust you, and you need to credit yourself for how well you’ve responded to our relationship.”

His words echoed in your brain as you entered the house, the only thing being able to break you out of the trance-like state you were in being San who rushed into the hallway as you entered.

He immediately took the two bags from your hands, rushing to put them away, before he returned to wrap you in his strong arms.

You giggled as he lifted you up and spun you around in his arms. ”Welcome home,” he smiled into your neck. Hongjoong eyed the two of you with a smile. Aside from your dating history, you had told Hongjoong about the previous night as well.  Although you sometimes wondered if the others would be uncomfortable with such information, Hongjoong managed to assure you that that wasn’t the case. He made sure to express how happy he was about it, and how you didn’t have to feel ashamed over anything.

He gave you a knowing glance when San was hugging him, making you blush. You hadn’t intended to tell him the details, but he seemed to be able to draw it out of you.

It was one of those sundays that were meant for doing absolutely nothing, that or grocery shopping with Hongjoong, or helping Seonghwa clean, like you were right now.

In the morning, Seonghwa had left to go shopping for something (you couldn’t remember what it was) so he left you a little note, saying that he didn’t want to wake you up and that he would be home by three.

Hence the reason you hadn’t been able to update him about the previous night’s events yet.

You shyly brought it up while folding some laundry, and his eyes widened dramatically when you finally told him that you had managed to kiss both Yunho and San.

”Really? They didn’t pressure you to do it though, right?” he asked worriedly. You laughed, shaking your head. ”Of course not,” you reassured, making him breathe out in relief.

”But, I really don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way, so…” you rambled on, looking down at the floor. ”Are you sure this is okay? I thought that- maybe I should’ve asked you—” you got quieter for each word, feeling self conscious all of a sudden.

”Hey, listen to me,” Seonghwa said, hands meeting the sides of your cheeks to make you look at him. ”I meant what I said when I said that I’m completely comfortable with it, hell, I’d even say that I’ll encourage it, but of course, I don’t want you to do something that you don’t want to,” he explained.

You looked into his dark eyes, and you felt how genuine they were. You felt reassured, and you realized that these worries hadn’t been so present yesterday night, or even this morning. Maybe seeing Minjun again planted this seed, this seed of uncertainty and insecurity. You knew deep down that Seonghwa would tell you if he wasn’t okay with it, you knew that you wouldn’t be held in the dark, but the fear still stayed there, constantly existing in the back of your head.

”I saw Minjun today,” you suddenly blurted out. You needed to say it, just to get it off of your chest. Seonghwa’s face dropped.

Sure, he didn’t know all of the details of your relationship, but he knew enough to know that it was a sensitive subject to you.

”Oh my god,” he said, caressing your face. You took a deep breath. ”It felt horrible to see him. It felt like everything came crashing back down on me again.”

Seonghwa listened, sitting down on the bed next to the large piles of laundry (you didn’t know why Seonghwa insisted that you two always do everyone’s laundry).

”But then, I talked to Hongjoong about it. I told him exactly what was on my mind when I saw him, exactly how the whole situation affected me, and now—” you smiled. ”Now I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You sat back in your chair, putting your hands on your stomach. ”I’m stuffed,” you said, looking at the plate that you had somehow managed to empty of food.

Wooyoung looked at you with a proud smile, him being the one who cooked the meal.

Yunho sat at his usual spot, in between you and Jongho. Seeing him after last night, you almost expected him to be shy or embarrassed, judging from how shy he seemed when you kissed him. But as you met him in the dining room, you saw a big smirk on his face. The hug he gave you was longer than usual, and you couldn’t help but squeak when you felt his big hands tighten around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh ever so slightly.

It seemed you were the shy one, feeling flushed when he whispered in your ear. ”I’ll get you back for catching me off guard like that.”

”Alright,” Hongjoong caught everyones attention. ”We need to discuss the trip next weekend.”

Oh right, you thought. You had almost forgotten about their seasonal trip to their cabin in the woods.

You straightened your posture, listening to Yunho who spoke up. ”Everyone’s coming, right?” he asked, looking around. His gaze stopped on you, making you look away.

”We don’t know that,” Hongjoong said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. ”Y/n hasn’t said if she’s coming yet.”

You suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on you, anticipating your answer. ”Oh, me?” you said, voice a little higher than normal.

”Of course you’re coming! It’s a tradition!” Wooyoung said, making you bite your lip in thought. ”Hmm… I don’t know,” you said, looking down. ”I don’t want to impose or anything. I know this is your thing…”

”You’re not imposing,” Seonghwa said. ”You’re a part of us now, and I’d really like you to come,” Seonghwa looked at you with his soft eyes, his hand finding yours and rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

”Yeah! It wouldn’t be the same without you!” Mingi said, his smile wide, already making you feel better.

You heard hums of agreement around the table. ”Well,” you started, taking a deep breath. ”I mean… If you’re all sure it’s okay.”

”It’s more than okay,” Yunho said, catching your attention. ”We’ll have so much fun! And trust me, you won’t want to miss seeing Mingi attempt to fish,” he said in a very audible whisper, glancing at Mingi with a playful smile.

”Hey! I’m a great fisherman!” Mingi protested, making you giggle.

”Alright,” you finally said, but felt the need to check one more time. ”But are you guys sure it’s okay? It’s fine if it’s not—” you tried, not wanting to risk being a burden.

”Oh hush now,” Hongjoong said. ”We all really want you to come with us,” he said. It always felt good to hear it from him.

”Alright, I’ll come.”  San and Wooyoung cheered loudly. ”This is going to be the best trip ever!” Wooyoung said.

As the others continued talking about the trip, you felt your sense of belonging only grew.

Thank you all for the positive feedback on this story!!!! It means soooo much and thank you to everyone who supports this by reblogging/liking/commenting!!! Don’t be shy to send requests!!

taglist: @heiswan @hwxbibi @rainfrogsimp @emilysecresy, @suns1sweetheart @symmieangela @pocket-hwa @gghzzc @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo @soso59love-blog @gigglensnort @mimikittysblog @maplelilly05 @pixie0627 @cotton-candycloudz @gugggu6gvai @cpg2020 @therealcuppicake @whyismingi @yizhou-time @vtyb23 @the-belching-toe @mrsminseochoi

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masterlist

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fic #our unsaid truths #poly ateez x reader #poly ateez #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #yunho x you #thank you for the support #love you all #Is this good?#do i use too much italics?

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suzukiblu · 3 days ago

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WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Do you know what subspace and sub drop are?” Tim asks.

“Uh . . . no?” Kon says, then frowns a little as he remembers–“You were talking about me dropping something when I was, like, all out of it before, right? So like–is it something with that?”

“Yes,” Tim says. The way he’s petting Kon’s hair sort of–changes, a little, and Kon gets this weird little thought that it’s suddenly kinda more like Tim’s petting him for himself, more than anything else. Like, as a little–tic, or something, that he’s using to keep his focus. So that’s . . . weird, kinda. Yeah.

Kon doesn’t even know where that thought came from, really, but . . .

He’d like to be something Tim could use for that, he thinks, and bites the inside of his lip as he feels his skin heat up over that thought.

“Did you feel different, when you were subbing?” Tim asks carefully. It’s his “assessing my teammate’s psychological condition” voice again, and also pretty obviously an “I know the answer to this question but I don’t know if you know the answer to this question” kind of question.

“Yeah,” Kon says, and shrugs a little. “Like–I usually do, when it’s, you know. Good. I just get, uh–a little weird sometimes, I guess? Sorry.”

Tim frowns.

“Do you feel . . . mm. Detached? Lightheaded? Or emotional, maybe?” he asks, still careful. It is absolutely another “I know but I want to know if you know” question. Like, for absolute friggin’ certain it is. “When it’s–good, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Kon says, because he feels all that and a whole lot of other things besides, when it’s good. And even more when it’s this good, really, including a few things that would be sorta embarrassing to admit to and a few things that would be sorta mortifying to admit to. He doesn’t really know why Tim’s asking any of this, but the guy’s asked him weirder shit for less reason, so it’s whatever. “Um. Is that, like . . . I mean, that happens to me sometimes, yeah. Just didn't know it was like, a thing? You know, like–with a name and all.”

“But you do feel that way?” Tim asks, still just barely frowning. It makes Kon a little bit worried, like maybe it’s a bad thing and he’s–well, it kinda is a bad thing, he guesses. Like . . . definitely not a safe one, even if it makes him feel, like . . .

Well. Safe, he guesses.

“Yeah, I mean–I guess I do?” Kon says, and shrugs again. It’s a little more awkward this time, maybe, but it feels like a stupid thing to be evasive about or whatever. “I mean, like I said, I just get a little weird and all. Like, I try not to, think I kinda freaked Wonder Girl out once or twice that way. And like, she said it was okay, but . . .”

But he hadn’t felt okay about it. Like–very much he had not felt okay about it. He’d felt like a problem, and like he was being weird and selfish and too fucking much and she was maybe finally gonna get sick of him being too much and–

. . . wait, Kon thinks, and frowns a little himself. He does usually try not to get so, like . . . weird, yeah. But like . . . did he try not to get weird this time? He doesn’t, like . . . remember, if he really . . .

“You try not to feel like that during the sex, or you try not to feel like that during the aftercare?” Tim asks, which seems like such a bizarre little thing to even bother caring about and kinda makes Kon feel . . . not weird again, but . . . a little . . . lighter, maybe. Like . . . somehow.

He can’t help thinking about how goddamn fucking good Tim is at Domming, and just how quick he and Bernard had both rattled off their hard no’s and safewords and everything at the start, and how neither of them’s forgotten any of his or acted like they were stupid or annoying, and how much they both talk–how much they both talk during the actual sex, even–and how, like . . .

When Tim safeworded earlier it was just a thing, and not a thing.

And neither Tim or Bernard’s gotten freaked out by him getting weird or getting . . . weirder, even.

So that’s . . . something that Kon can’t help thinking about right now, for whatever reason.

“Um,” he says, not sure exactly what the fuck he’s feeling about . . . all that shit he can’t help thinking about, he guesses. Just . . . all of that. “Dunno what ‘aftercare’ means either. What’s, uh–that one?”

It’s probably just something else he already does and just didn’t know had an actual name, Kon figures. “Aftercare” he guesses sounds like something he’d do after, like, the typical morning-after walk-of-shame home–okay, the morning-after flight-of-shame, and also he has zero shame either way so it’s whatever–so maybe it’s something about dealing with the kinda, like–hangover kinda thing that he gets, usually, or just the hangover thing itself, even, maybe that’s a thing that actually isn’t just–

“That's the part where everyone checks in with each other and makes sure no one's upset,” Tim says, and Kon . . . blinks, very slowly. The–what?

“Uh . . . upset about what?” he asks, and belatedly tries to make the question jokey by adding, “I mean, I’m definitely upset your dick’s not in me right now, but that’s just me being a greedy fuck, you know?”

“Ngh,” Tim mutters under his breath, his fingers very briefly tightening in Kon’s hair, and then lets out a doors-blowing exhalation. “Upset about how the scene went. Sometimes people talk about what they liked and what they might wanna do differently next time; sometimes it's just making sure everyone's comfortable and gets some food and water in them before they fall asleep and wake up feeling gross.”

Kon–blinks, again. Remembers Tim coaxing him into drinking the water bottle and feeding him the protein bar bite by bite and not even like a come-on, and even kind of the thing with bringing him the candy, and–there’s a third plate of breakfast on that tray, too. Like . . . that Bernard brought to him.

Oh, he thinks, and feels weird.

#timberkon #timkon #konbern #timbern #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #bernard dowd #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub #cheshire

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familiarfacadesz · 1 day ago

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Answering these now, with another alter. I am [A] and my alter is [N].

What is your fictotype?

[A]: Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs.

[N]: Nikolai, also from BSD! >w<

2. Do you miss home?

[A]: Not particularly. I think I miss some people, but honestly I much prefer here.

[N]: I miss it a lot. I miss my friends and I miss Fedya and ughhhhhhh. Life is so cruel... nobody here understands me now... I want to go home. :(

3. Do you have any sourcemates?

[A]: I will assume this means if we know anyone who has the same source as us personally. No for both of us. We are very new to the community.

4. How similar are you to canon on a scale of 1-10?

[A]: Complicated. 9, I think. Still figuring it out.

[N]: 4! Which is good cuz Fedya in canon is like, really mean! My Fedya is nothing like that !

5. Different sex / gender?

[N]: Skip! For both of us UwU

6. What aspect of life does your identity affect the most?

[A]: Not much? I would say just being myself is more of a good thing than a bad thing, for our system. Though I do tend to get annoyed when people in our system fixate on Dazai Osamu, which I am sure does cause many problems.

[N]: Everything! My mental health is suffering because of this. I don't front much. I still haven't processed things...

7. Is our experience of being fictionkin unpleasant or enjoyable for you?

[N]: Unpleasant. Though I don't wish away my identity... it's just painful.

[A]: Neither? It's a neutral thing.

8. What reminds you of your fictotype?

[A]: Soft clothes, like a knit sweater, candles, wood and knives.

[N]: Dunno... oh, playing cards! >w<

9. What level is your identity?

[A]: Complicated, mix of spiritual and psychological.

[N]: Uh! Spiritual! Also for A I think it's mostly spiritual hes just wayyyyy too logical 99% of the time lol...

10. Do we experience shifts?

[A]: No.

[N]: No for both of us! We are perma-shifted, but the intensity does fluctuate! :3

11. How do you feel about fanart / fanfic.

[A]: I dislike it. A lot of the fandom stuff makes me annoyed because it's innacurate to both canon and my experience. If it is accurate I do not mind it, and sometimes do enjoy it.

[N]: Ehhhhh no opinion? Though I do get upset when things are portrayed inaccurately...

12. Do you look excactly like source or different? If different, how?

[A]: I do not wear a trenchcoat, funnily enough. I preferred softer clothing in the agency, and in the mafia I dressed very formally (yes I wore Mori's coat). I also keep my bandages hidden (turtlenecks & scarves ftw) and I wore a few rings and a single earring in my left ear.

[N]: Uhhh not much different? I think I wore shiny black shoes (like tap shoes?) and not pointed shoes like canon me does, but like, thats it.

13. What do you think about ships with you?

[A]: Soukoku as a ship can fuck right off. Kunizai is meh, Fyozai can also fuck right off. I think if I was attracted to anyone it may have been Yosano? So that ship is fine? I dislike the concept of someone shipping me generally though.

[N]: Anyone shipping me with anyone who is not my beloved Fedya is annoying to me! :D

14. Loved ones in source?

[N]: Fedya! <3 <3 Also Sigma was cute too but Fedya my one and only <33333

[A]: Eh. Chuuya was ... someone I could rely on? Loved ones... not really. I had a few flings with Yosano, and anyone I cared even slightly about is likely fine, so I have no issues with it. Losing Oda hurt, so I made sure to not repeat that mistake.

Alex's fictionkin ask game!

(mostly for fictional characters)

🌲 - what is your fictotype?

🪲 - do you miss your home? Or maybe you're happy that you're here?

🐸 - do you have any sourcemates? If yes, who/what are they?

🌳 - in scale 1-10, how are you similar to your canon?

🌿 - does your fictotype have a different sex/gender identity than your body/you?

☘️ - what aspect of life does your identity affect the most?

🪴 - is your fictionkin experience unpleasant or enjoyable for you?

🍃 - what reminds you of your fictotype? (E.g.: a figurine, a doll, a tv series)

🌄 - on what level is your identity? (E.g. spiritual, psychological, psychical)

🐢 - do you experience shifts? Of yes, how do they look like?

🥝 - what is your source?

🐛 - how do you feel about fanarts of you and fanfictions?

🌵 - do you look exactly like in your source or do you look different? If you do, then what is different?

🥀 - what do you think about ships with you?

🦕 - do you have/had a loved one in your source?

♪♪♪

So, yeah, that's all! :D

Reblog this, so the others can ask you questions or answer them all right now, if you want to :>

#long post #reblogs #fictionkin #we prefer the term fictionkin to fictive #our fiction identities are separate from our disorder

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heidilylovely · 2 days ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 , 𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧 Introduction to the cast!

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

"Plus, I'm just a "me" . Live free, Live happily. That's how I would live my life. Doesn't mean I wouldn't stop appearing to talk to you Y/N."

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐃𝐫 𝐌𝐄𝐈 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO HOYOVERSE!

"Isn't this time we introduce to the newly lover-? actors? May they be together in this universe ALIVE.!"

DR Y/N LN!

Dr. Y/N is a scientist

An iceberg person with a steady and calm personality who doesn't have any communication with people except for research. The genius woman who is called the last savior by the world, but no one actually knows her inner thoughts.

A mad genius who could have joined, THE genius society level, THE Intelligentsia Guild!, But she chose the express. Even she doesn't know.. Maybe, she just wants to meet the man in her dreams...?

HATES HUMANITY, BUT STILL CHOSE TO DROWN IN IT. THAN ACCEPT IT.

"Ah, I sense that you're a originally such a romantic person. Firm and Brave, but unable to let go of that innocence. Am I right? Phainon? Or. You have another name?"

Phainon

The Chrysos Heir of Aedes Elysiae, a warrior of Okhema.

A gentle and cheerful young man with a detail-oriented mind and a pursuit of perfection in everything he does.

However his smile became very bright and wants her to to notice him soon.

HE DOESN'T KNOW WHY HIS HEART...FELT FULL....WHEN SHE PASSED BY.

"Are you saying the stars in the sky are enemies. In your understanding- Those shining lights, beautiful and cruel, will swallow us all if we are not careful....In my own way I used to believe that too, But now those lights bring not only threats but also. Open up hope for the future."

There's no need to introduction this man, He is inside her dreams. He's HER dream. A nightmare..? Isn't a word for him.

DAN HENG

The cold and reserved train guard and archivist of the . Wielding a spear.

He definitely HATES you.

"You will do anything necessary just to satisfy your curiosity. Just don't be careless with your stuff. Y/n. No one wants to get hurt."

STELLE

Very funny, Too much she thinks Stelle's annoying.

She's def not close with her.

But Stelle thinks She do be a baddie not gonna lie 🥵.

"Man, You're so cool, EVEN if you're slightly insane with your work...Y/n."

WELT YANG

An animator by trade, Welt is a seasoned member of the ASTRAL EXPRESS and the former sovereign of ANTI ENTROPY who has saved from annihilation time and time again. He inherited the name of the world,

Welt's trust in her was a delicate balance—he relied on her contributions but couldn't shake his unease. Her methods, while undeniably helpful, often veered far from his ideal, leaving him torn between appreciation and suspicion. He watches her closely, not out of malice, but out of a need to ensure she didn't cross a line he couldn't overlook.

You have a knack for walking the fine line between brilliance and recklessness, "I trust your intent, but I'm watching your methods closely—don't make me regret this."

HIMEKO

She's a person who will welcome with open arms. She will understand her.

But her guard might be up.

"I TRUST you Y/N. I hope you can find something to help march.."

MARCH 7TH

March, ever the bright and bubbly optimist, made every effort to include her, always choosing to see the best in people, she believed everyone deserved a chance.

All Y/N wants is to help...Her friend. Who's now a ice. Just like how she saw her first.

March cares about her, When everyone SAW her. She held her hand and held her coat and offered her change of clothes.

"..Hey Y/N! I'll be fine. You said you're. .gonna look into it. Right? I'll be cured in no time. Good Luck. I told Dan Heng not to be...angry at you."

DR VERTIAS RATIO

If Ratio is over done with someone than Ruan Mei, It's you. Her IDEAS is too MUCH. Insanity, Ratio would perhaps check her brain. he wouldn't be super close but close enough to be considered just colleges. Dr Ratio doesn't think too highly of ppl and tends to disagree a bit

After all,

She ended universes because she COULD.

She started a project of path striders BECAUSE she could.

"I would think that DR Ruan Mei IS a SAINT compared to her, She does everything she can to "save" humanity. Trust me, If she had some other mindset. Maybe we all won't exist right now."

CASTORICE

Castorice is reserved and soft-spoken, more like a drenched, shivering cat than a sunny presence. She keeps to herself, but her willingness to help others knows no bounds. Her unique ability to temporarily bring back the souls of the dead comes at a steep cost—

it drains her to the point of collapse. Even during the most grueling moments of a quest, when she looked ready to pass out or worse, she never faltered. Despite her struggles, there's a quiet charm to her: she loves feeding animals and captures the world around her through black-and-white photos, a preference that mirrors her understated, delicate nature.

All they really want to do is help their planet and stop the attacks/war. Though they could see them becoming semi friends

"You're...really double sided. You do it because you HAVE to. Not because you WANT to, Why do you HATE Humanity so MUCH?"

AGLAEA

Beneath her seemingly calm demeanor lies a cold and calculating heart. She'll stop at nothing to save Amphoruses, even if it means crossing moral boundaries. Her ruthless determination once brought her to the brink of killing Stelle and Dan Heng—an alternate path where their lives were sacrificed for her cause. Brilliant and pragmatic,

she carefully weighs every choice, always prioritizing her planet's survival. She's unafraid to manipulate others, even using Castorice's painful abilities as a weapon to ensure her people's future, no matter the cost.

"Ah, so they're trying to play the villain? How quaint. Destroying the multiverse for HELPING? I suppose it's admirable in its simplicity, though it lacks... finesse. Experimenting on humanity is a delightful pastime, but if they're so focused on hate, they're missing the real joy of it all—the artistry, the chaos, the creation of despair. Insanity? Please. They're just another monster playing dress-up. Let's see if they can keep up when the stakes truly rise."

MYDEI

Mydei has a short fuse and isn't afraid to let it show, even if it means lashing out at Phainon when he disagrees with her. On the outside, he's all tough and gruff, but underneath, there's a surprisingly soft side to him.

As long as her methods don't threaten to tear everything apart, he's willing to look the other way. His focus is clear: saving Amphoruses is his priority, and he'll do whatever it takes to protect them, even if it means tolerating things he doesn't entirely agree with.

"She's got her ways, and I don't always agree with 'em. Hell, half the time, I can't even stand it. But if she's not gonna burn everything to the ground... I'll stick around. At least she's got a damn point—saving Amphoruses... that's the only thing that matters right now."

SUNDAY

Unlike with others, he grew close to you faster than anyone else. He sticks by your side, always ensuring you have everything you need.

Sunday knows deep down that what they're doing is wrong, but his own past—scarred by trauma and manipulation—pushes him to understand, even empathize. Having once seen the world through a similarly skewed and morally gray lens, he feels compelled to help her, perhaps hoping to guide her away from the darkness he once knew too well.

"Miss Y/n, Can we hang out more together, I wouldn't mind working under your projects too. As Long It's close to you. I don't know....Maybe I'll be fine. And I want to help you too..."

DO YOU WANT TO SAID, SHE'S JUST AS INSANE AS RUAN MEI BUT RUAN MEI DOES HAVE A HEART.

BLACK SWAN

Black Swan remains an enigma, her true intentions still largely shrouded in mystery. She would undoubtedly find her intriguing, much like Acheron. Her approach would be calculated—earn her trust, get close, and then use that connection to uncover her secrets. The thrill of unraveling someone so complex would be too tempting for her to resist, always pushing for more, always looking for leverage.

"....I would rather watch you from afar. I once danced with someone like you and..Their mind.. Let's just leave it."

Let's be real—she destroyed entire universes just because she could. DR Y/N did it for her own twisted sense of power, and she? She did it purely for the thrill, with no deeper motive than the chaos itself.

She doesn't have the tragic backstories that make most villains feel human; she's just pure, unapologetic evil. Her hatred for humanity runs so deep, her Project AEONS was designed with one goal: to wipe out every last trace of it. Even the ACTUAL AEONS called her insane, and they weren't wrong. She's not just evil—she's a force of destruction.

Competing against the NANOOK on who can obliterate the multiverse faster? That's her game. Humanity? She wants to destroy it, simply because she thinks it'll be fun. She's done inhumane experiments, and in the ultimate show of her depravity.

MAYBE, ATLEAST...

HER VIEW CAN DIFFER IF SOMEONE FIXES IT.

EXTRA CHARACTERS (WILL BE ADDED LATER)

HERTA

STERALLON HUNTERS

NANOOK!

Let me know if I should publish this As a fic here!...

#honkai star rail #Hsr #hsr x reader #Hsr x reader #Honkai star rail x reader #phainon #phainon x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #phainon x you #phainon x y/n #hsr fanfic #dan heng #stelle

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ohmy-gojo · 2 days ago

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'i just have to go, hey lets eat together! how hard can this be?'

"hey! give me you lunch!" sukuna barked at you

fml

you blinked. the whole class gasped in shock, was this the infamous thing where the delinquent steals a nerds lunch? they were at the edges of their seats

meanwhile sukuna wanted to hit himself. that was not what he wanted to say. every interaction with you only has him looking like a fool in front of you

the reason behind... whatever this was, is him wanting to get closer to you. unlike a normal human being going hi youre nice lets be friends he threatened you to give your lunch to him

"you give me your lunch and ill give you mine!" sukuna rephrased

"wha- wait, your lunch?" your eyes sparkled

heh.. gotcha sukuna thought to himself. he baited you right there, he knew that you knew his lunch was prepared by 5 star chefs.

"hey but wait.. why are you doing this?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow

sukuna furrowed his brows at you, acting like you offended him "because i want to! a dumbass like you should feel honored to share lunch with me, you ungrateful idiot."

"omg is this the enemies to lovers turning arc.." you mumbled

"the fuck are you talking about?!"

"AAAH okay dont make such a ruckus," you looked around you to see people heavily interested in whatever was going on between you two. "fine, ill exchange lunch with you. but.." you paused for quite some time, creating suspense. even the janitor was now invested to see what was happening

"the movie effect you think you are having is not happening!" sukuna busted you

you scoffed. "bru- i bought lunch money today, as in i will buy food." you sassily replied

ugh

"fine," sukuna nodded his head, "tomorrow. me and you. exchange lunch. got it?" he threatened asked you again

"i cant tomorrow either..." you adverted your eyes with a heavy sigh

"AARGH why now??!!" he shaked your shoulders

"tomorrow is sunday!"

sukunas forehead popped a vein.

monday finally came. everything happened normally but the whole class- even the teachers and janitors were anticipating something

the lunch exchange event between ryomen sukuna and y/n.

everyone was peering at the the duo, not even trying to be discreet. it was okay though, sukuna was satisfied. this way everyone will know you are off limits

lunch bell finally rang. sukuna patted your shoulder and you looked at him with a huge smile. he wanted to squeeze his chest badly. he glared at you "i hope you didnt forget our promise you idiot."

"of course not!" you gave him a closed eye smile

"uhuh," as much as sukuna found your smile cute, he found it a little- what was the word you always say- sus

"we are having lunch here." he declared

"oh but i would suggest the rooftop,"

honestly sukuna would prefer that himself but he needed everyone to know that youre his

he cleared his throat, "no. here."

"well.. wherever you wish." you smiled again

everyone was intrigued to see what was gonna happen next. so students who originally planned to eat in the cafeteria or generally outside the classroom were still inside. there should be some witness in case sukuna decided to maul you for not making the lunch properly (they actually dgaf, just want to witness the tea). though you certainly dont look bothered at all

sukuna grabbed his chair and placed it in front of your desk. he then placed his lunch box, a bit larger sized than the usual in the desk "my lunch." he said proudly at your look of amazement

"oh wow, thats a lot.." you said amazed

"well," he smirked "for me its the usual but for a simpleton like you i guess this is probably grand."

"fine anyways! lets eat." you honestly couldnt care less about what he was bluffing about now that theres such a grand meal in front of you

sukuna smirked again at your excitement which he actually found cute. if only you were his girlfriend, he wouldve made sure that you eat food like this for breakfast and dinner too. which then made him annoyed how youre not his girlfriend yet and flick your forehead

"whaff???" you asked, mouth stuffed with onigiris

"idiot."

you rolled you eyes at him. he then proceeded to open the lunch you claimed to make. he could tell by the aroma that it tasted good. everyone held their breath in anticipation at what you could possibly make to appease the mighty ryomen sukuna, as he opened the lid of the lunch box slowly

the well known and strong, ryomen sukuna, whos known for his rough personality, intimidating aura and authoritative presence

one who everyone knows to steer clear away and not mess with

opened his lunch

that revealed

a hello kitty themed lunch.

with everything dyed pink.

sukuna gawked at you. everyone else's jaws were on the floor at your bravery- or stupidity. they were now planning a funeral for you

"what the fuck is this??!!"

"you dont like?" you held a sad expression. though sukuna could clearly see that you were holding your laugh. oh he figured you out, you were trying to humiliate him. he squinted his eyes at you. normally hed be fucking furious but now though

he was.. glad. this means you feel close to him right?

and he also refused to let you humiliate him. hes not gonna let you feel the satisfaction of embarrassing him

so he picked his chopsticks and ate the food you made, without breaking eye contact. like a man.

you were actually shocked. then laughed heartily "you absolute madlad!"

even though you didnt initially find him interesting, you couldnt deny the chad vibes he was radiating right now. being a fearsome delinquent and eating a cutesy lunch? what a chad.

"hurry up and eat your lunch!!" sukuna then proceeded to shove food in your mouth with his chopsticks

everyone still had yet to pick up their hanging jaws. what was happening to the world. not only sukuna ryomen was eating a pink themed lunch but also letting someone go scot free for laughing at him and feed her?? you were now talking about world domination and saving bees while he listened attentively. they couldnt believe it was actually him until he glared at them for staring so obviously

sukuna was now over the moon. not only was he eating lunch with you, he also made you laugh

"we should do this again sometimes," you gave him a genuine smile. sukunas eyes widened in glee

mission accomplished

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 days ago

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The little things

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Masterlist

My headcanons about the Lads boys. I will keep updating this if I find things to add. Suggestions are welcome! Last update: 27-01-2025

Ever so slightly nsfw, so don't read if ur under 18.

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Zayne

Secretly tracks your period and changes your diet with your cycle to make sure you suffer as little as possible. (But does let you indulge in chocolate on your period even though it might worsen the cramps.)

Does not care for your pranks but appreciates you feeling comfortable enough to prank him.

Enjoys foreplay almost more than the actual act. He likes to watch you climb onto his lap, likes feeling you touch any part of uncovered skin, likes kissing you until you can't breathe anymore.

Has extras of almost all the products you use stashed. This includes shower gel, makeup, perfume, and sometimes snacks but those run out quite quickly.

Reads a lot of romance books in his free time.

Really, really, really likes your hands. Will spend hours studying your fingers, massaging your palm, kissing your knuckles. Never gets bored of it.

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Xavier

Pretends to take cover when he sees you almost sneezing.

Likes doing your laundry. To him, it is a very small way to show you he cares. Leaves everything folded and sorted in piles of shirts, dresses, pants, etc, on your bed for you to put away. (Every once in a while a pair of panties will go missing though.)

Will try to absolutely smother himself between your thighs. Has asked you to squeeze his head like a watermelon on more than one occasion.

Favorite sleeping position is on top of you while you're reading on the couch with his head on your chest and your hand scratching his head.

Is actually a pretty ok cook. He just like watching you cook so sometimes he burns things on purpose. Just to convince you to cook for him. (How else would he have survived for so long?)

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Rafayel

Takes note of your morning ritual and "secretly" helps you when you have a bad morning by handing you your toothbrush, having your breakfast ready for you, or getting you a glass of water before you can even think about taking your meds.

Likes to paint your back when you lay naked on the bed. Sometimes it's something truly impressive, other times he does silly doodles.

Sometimes accidentally gets annoyed for real when he pretends to because he gets into it too much.

Is a munch. Like, you cannot get him to stop until he's had his fill. Besides your safeword, there is absolutely no way to keep him from ravishing you.

Is completely enamored with lipstick kisses. Loves the way they look on his skin and even more on yours. Has put on lipstick for that reason more than once. Sometimes takes pictures of his work after with your consent and has used them as references for paintings.

Will take any chance given to him to stare at your boobs or touch your boobs. At this point, you can't really care anymore. It's just part of your day.

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Sylus

Likes working out, but likes it even more if you're watching. You don't have to join. It just boosts his confidence to see you salivating over him while pretending to be busy on your phone.

Adores having you on top in any situation. Sitting on his lap, cuddling, sex. He just enjoys watching you on top of him.

Is secretly a great mixologist and absolutely loves making drinks for you. Will make syrups and juices from scratch. Bonus points if you don't drink alcohol because now he has a new way to impress you. (Cause most alcohol free "liquors" are absolutely shit.)

Absolutely loves marking you in places no one can see when you're wearing clothes. He likes the privacy and possessive nature of it. Knowing that you are completely his while no one else knows.

Makes sure you are holding him properly when riding on the back of his motorcycle. Enjoys it when you let your hands roam over his body while he drives.

Has been taking note of your opinions on his clothes, his furniture, the food he makes, and makes changes to assure your comfort without making you feel like you're asking too much of him.

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Caleb

Absolutely despises milk. Isn't lactose intolerant, just does not like it at all.

Told you he can't always wear his chain because of certain missions but in reality the chain sometimes itches and he just needs a break. Will wear it while he sleeps though.

Power bottom.

Will never agree with you on where to eat. Does always end up taking you to a place you will like.

Has a weird obsession with your shoulders. Tries to always be touching them. Either by putting his head on your shoulder, his arm around you, kissing them. Whatever he has to do to get close to your shoulders.

Cringes at his own words very often and secretly wishes he could be as carefree with you as he was before the accident.

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infinity-or-oblivion · 2 days ago

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heyyyy realm nation I have an au for y'all: arranged marriage foolhalo. now hear me out I'm thinking longgggg history of conflict between warring kingdoms (think montagues and capulets) I'm thinking fundamental moral differences that make peace nearly impossible I'm thinking innocent people caught in the crossfire and most of all I'm thinking doomed yaoi. foolish and bad hate each others guts so intensely and somehow have so much in common and I just think forced 'romance' is so fun. anyways foolish is the eldest prince of his family which includes ros and owen and clown and tango and perhaps sneeg and phil and then bad wants to strengthen their kingdoms alliance so he marries foolish except they HATE each others guts and bad’s kingdom/family of pili and pangi and hannah and baghera all keep attacking foolish and his family

okay so that was my initial idea and then I started thinking about the kingdom of fools found family dynamic (because I watch almost exclusively ros pov btw) so here's my pitch: eldest prince foolish and his siblings are Owen, clown, and ros. that’s all i really want tbh BECAUSE LIKE THE DYNAMICS ARE SO GOOD I WANT SOME FAMILY CONFLICT THAT IS ULTIMATELY ROOTED IN LOVE IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR

so like: middle child that often feels slighted owen, sometimes feels threatened by more talented clown, foolish who cares about all of them so much but he’s stretched thin and can’t do everything himself, and of course. clown and ros my beloveds, baby of the family ros, and all of her brothers love her and feel very protective of her. but sometimes she feels like she doesn’t add as much to the kingdom since she’s more of an artist than a fighter, and also others see her as a weak point, and sometimes she doesn’t get the support and validation she needs from her brothers (except clown??) and of course then there’s clown. he’s got weird eldritch shit going on, something about messing with the magical and ethereal that he becomes intertwined with it, also some ctechno-esque feelings about only being seen as a weapon/tool for others, ANYWAYS I love tr!clown wish he would FUCKING STREAM MORE. rotating them all in my mind like a rotisserie chicken

but like ive been thinking about that time foolish and ros went on a fishing trip after foolish came back from the dead and how good that was and I'm also thinking about the low-key jealous (??) vibe Owen has going on all the time and of course I'm the number one clown and ros fan so yeah. I can't stop thinking about them teehee

and tango is probably a trusted advisor to foolish or something along those lines, as well as sneeg (sneeg and clown divorce canon???? must've been the wind...)

and then on the red/green side there's bad as the king/whatever patriarch, with pangi as his nephew or something like that idk, and then pili is an assassin pangi somehow befriended that hangs around all the time and won’t leave. and also has/had some sort of insane situationship with ros?? also hannah and pac as trusted advisors and the rest of red team as other mercenaries/hired hands (architect sausage, pirate baghera, etc). and let's not forget that pangi and pili have some sort of insane doomed yaoi thing going on too, they truly are the most dysfunctional found family

and with blue, there’s tubbo, cpk, kind of phil and beky and coy and scott (??) and of course aimsey. oh my god tr!aimros is fucking insane, ros is having a Rough Time and foolish is really good at supporting her even though he doesn’t always have time or really get what the hell is going on with ros and aimsey. anyways tubbo is an old friend of foolish, gets along great with ros, and his ex-husband is ‘friends’ with pili. so that’s great. (huge fan of tr!Tommy just kind of being there and annoying tubbo from time to time very in character for him). and tubbo, aimsey and cpk are canonically brothers I don't make the rules, beky is silently recording everything and judging everyone, coy is just trying to build a cool farm and keeps getting pulled into drama

anyways. there's my concept and I keep trying to write something but I can't figure out how the fuck to go about it, so I figured someone else might like the idea. godspeed soldiers

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girlsworldillusion · 1 day ago

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so this is what falling in love is like?

Ominis Gaunt x Gryffindor Reader

Summary: “Ominis, what — what are you trying to say?”

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock.

Where a night of studying at the Undercroft grows into something much bigger than you expected.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 9k

Artist: (x) @oladcnfthb

Author's Note: My first fanfic of the HP universe. Not the last, if I may have a choice. I hope you all like it, your comments will be greatly appreciated by this poor writer.

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

"And then I heard this girl, Grace Withey, or Whitney, I'm not sure now," the boy mutters thoughtfully before dismissing the question with an exquisite wave of his hand, "either way, she was asking if he had time to offer 'some much needed and much appreciated guidance in the Care of Magical Creatures', like she said. She claimed to be a disaster in that class, though it seemed like she was doing quite well before he arrived, if you ask me."

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, but keep your eyes closed as you listen to Ominis report the detailed case of the latest romantic incident that simply fell into Sebastian's lap - emphasis on report, as this could never be classified as gossip. Ominis Gaunt has never stooped to the social stratagem that is the art of spreading gossip, as he himself makes a point of reminding you every time that possibility is remotely suggested in some witty comment.

After a long study session, you were both lounging carefree on the opulent burgundy couch set against one wall; a gaudy luxury that you fought tooth and nail to add to the cold expanse of the undercroft so that you could rest while you did some reading, or simply when you were too tired to return to your dormitories. Two tall stacks of books rested on the low table in front of you, some even open and scattered across the carpet on the floor, as well as piles of half-scribbled parchment, inkwells and quills. The flickering flames arranged in the braziers hanging on the walls provided an orange illumination that was both functional and comforting to the eyes. In the cushioned space between you two lay the remains of two boxes of Chocolate Frogs - his clearly opened in a much more elegant manner than yours.

Outside the castle the snow fell without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals, but inside the walls you felt safe and warm.

"She was clearly interested in more than just his guidance on creature care."

Despite the suggestive tone, there's a soft smile on your lips as you says this, your feet swinging languidly on the tabletop where they're propped up on top of each other.

"No surprise there." He snorts beside you, a sullen quality to his tone that definitely wasn't there a few seconds ago. "This sort of thing always happens to him. And oh, he's so pompous about it too, really insufferable. It's obvious by now that he can have any girl in school, even some boys I dare say, and he's amply and unfortunately very aware of it. It's annoying that he has that kind of power, if you ask me."

This time you can't help the amused chuckle that escapes your lips, perfectly conjuring behind closed eyelids the sullen pout the man is surely making just by his tone of voice.

"Careful now, Gaunt, some poor unsuspecting person who hears you speak like that might interpret your words as jealousy." Your tone oscillates between a weak attempt at reprimand and amusement, enjoying poking the poor man. "What's wrong, haven't you been getting enough attention from the student masses?"

It was a teasing comment, intentional in the aim of maintaining the fun and pleasant atmosphere that surrounded them. But when a few good seconds pass without him saying anything in return, you slowly allow your eyes to open, staring at the Slytherin sitting next to you.

The first thing you notice is how tense his body is; shoulders rigid and head turned away from you, hands clenched tightly on his thighs. He looks uncomfortable in every tiny line of his tall body. He's not denying what you suggested and you've teased him enough times in the past to know that he should have done so already if he disagreed with your words.

"I would find such a notion rather unbelievable if that were the case, of course, since this is you we're talking about." You murmur slowly when it becomes obvious he's not going to respond, watching his every reaction intently as you fish for information.

"What—wait, what are you talking about?" He looks a little dazed, tilting his head toward you just a fraction, but you continue your train of thought, taking advantage of the fact that you have his attention once more.

"Well, you're Ominis Gaunt. Not only do you have all that physical representation of cold elegance and an aura of royalty that your House so annoyingly likes to impose, but you're also a member of one of the most notorious families in the wizarding world. It's hard to believe that there isn't a line of lovestruck hearts out there just waiting for an opportunity to date you. I bet you're just as popular as Sebastian these days - you're just more discreet about it than him, obviously."

Your comment, although honest in every word, is made innocently, with no apparent justification for any fuss - just sincere curiosity about the question raised. And that's why you're taken aback by his reaction to you. Even though he remains frozen where he sits with all the grace and refinement of an enchanted lord from a fairy tale, the poor man's cheeks burn with such an intense blush that you quickly find yourself worried that he's about to have some kind of silent breakdown.

"I-it's not quite like that." He straightens his already perfect posture as he brings a limp fist to his lips, covering his sudden stutter with a subtle cough that, in and of itself, carries more pomp than you could ever achieve in your entire life - which, of course, only confirms what you've just said. "While my family is admittedly reputed in the wizarding world, I can assure you that it is not in a good way at all. And it goes without saying that everyone here knows it too. They vacillate between avoiding me as if I've been jinxed with a repulsive Slugulus Eructo or fearing me as if I'll Avada them at the slightest sign of movement. That in itself is a major romance deterrent, you know. I don't blame them, of course. My family's crimes extend to me through the bloodline, whether I like it or not. It's inevitable, really."

You part your lips, all too ready to interrupt what was proving to be the beginning of another session of misplaced guilt from the Slytherin, when you see him smirking. His pale cheeks are still stained with that pink dust, but his lips are stretched in a mischievous pull that actually disguises his embarrassment for a few seconds.

"Besides, although I am, as you well know, completely averse to the dark practices of the Gaunts, I confess to taking advantage of all that reputation, sometimes. It suits me at some very specific moments."

You tilt your head, giving him your best unimpressed look.

"Oh, I am quite aware of that. Your readiness to use the Gaunts' reputation for your own benefit was especially evident that night when you threatened to terrorize my last generation if I opened my mouth about the Undercroft. You certainly know how to make a good point when you put intention behind it."

It washes the smile from his lips so instantly it's almost comical, leaving behind only a kicked, embarrassed expression, the flush in his cheeks highlighting the constellation of beauty marks on his porcelain skin.

"I - I already said I was sorry about that, I was just -"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm just teasing you." You cut him off with a sly smile. "Anyway, you're not going to get away from the real issue here."

Because, well...you really couldn't stop thinking about the suggestiveness of his previous statement. The possibilities - oh - were running through your brain nonstop. So, against your better judgment, and with your cheeks flush with heat, you find yourself pressing him on it.

"I don't understand what exactly you want to know." He mumbles, trying to cover up his embarrassment with a look of disinterest that is too poor to be taken seriously.

"You...have been with someone before, right?" This time you're deadly direct, no hints or openings for half answers. You had a question and you wanted to clear it up, your embarrassment in uttering such words wouldn't be enough to stop you. "Ah, intimately, I mean."

Obviously, it's not the kind of question that a decent lady would have asked a young man of such high prestige as Ominis Gaunt, you imagine. But after everything you've been through since you started your journey at Hogwarts, you feel bolder than the tolerable standard for young ladies, as if you'd lost some of your subtlety somewhere along the way. But how could you not?

More times than you can remember, you've been teetering on the brink of death, facing enemies who didn't think twice about whether or not you were too young for such things. More times than you can remember, you've been responsible for making decisions that would directly impact the lives of many people, even the wizarding world as a whole. The power in your hands, the skills and the often almost unbearable weight that such responsibilities brought to your life, made your mentality run miles ahead of those of your schoolmates - of society, in general. Inevitably, you felt that circumstances had forced you to develop a sense of urgency and raw honesty that even some adults lacked.

It was true that you lacked practical experience in some intimate matters - now mind you, you didn't exactly have a lot of free time for romantic interests and sex, too busy between the Keepers Trials, running tirelessly through the Highlands performing exhausting tasks for every poor soul who crossed your path - tasks that often culminated in your near death - attending the many classes during the day and the intensive study for the O.W.L.s in the library.

It was a true miracle when you managed to find time to sleep in your own bed in the dormitory - more often than not you were so exhausted that you simply lay down wherever you were and took a nap.

The fact was that you weren't exactly experienced in matters of intimacy, not really. There had been a few daring kisses here and there, of course. Even a few curious hands while you were snuggling with a Ravenclaw boy between the shelves of the library, hidden from Madam Scribner's watchful eyes. But you hadn't gone any further than that with anyone - even though the rumors circulating around school were that you and Sebastian Sallow had once been caught in an embarrassing and quite explicit situation in the Prefects' Bathroom. Which, of course, was a blatant lie. You had only been in the Prefects' Bathroom once and it certainly wasn't for any...carnal purposes.

You suspected that it was Sebastian himself who had started such rumors.

Either way, your lack of experience in the field had never bothered you much. Honestly, you didn't have the energy to bother yourself with it more than superficially. But you’d be lying if you denied that the prospect that Ominis, the most unfairly handsome and well-born boy you’ve ever met, might be as inexperienced as you is doesn’t offer a kind of comfort you didn’t even know you needed — as well as a funny thrill of anticipation in your belly.

You blink slowly as you stare at his handsome profile, bracing yourself for more of his cold scowls and frustrated huffs of impatience — perhaps even a sermon on how unladylike it is to ask such questions. He’s very good at sermons. Instead, however, you’re met with something else entirely. The upturned bridge of his nose is stained with blush, as are his cheeks. His unseeing gaze is turned away from you, his lips pressed tightly together, the corners slightly turned down. He looks…nervous? Distressed? You feel bad for pushing him like this. But as blushing and regretful as you are, the thought of what this means makes your heart beat faster by the second. The thought that you were right about your deductions after all makes your throat almost dry.

"H-hey, Ominis," you stammer awkwardly, but he still doesn't tilt his head in your direction. His arms are crossed over his chest like a physical shield, his entire posture screaming barely contained tension, making you slowly pull your feet off the table and adjust yourself on the couch so that you're sitting sideways to face him better. You take a deep breath, but Merlin, the air between you feels heavy now. It's strange, really; you don't think the two of you have ever been this awkward around each other, except for the first time you had a conversation - which was actually more of a threatening monologue on his part than a conversation per se. The regret of having insisted on this subject begins to weigh on your chest - a sincere fear that something that seemed so harmless to you a few minutes ago could be the cause of a crack in the bond you've arduously cultivated with Ominis is taking root in your mind.

You adjust uncomfortably the red hood of the robe around your neck, thinking that it wasn't worth trying to satisfy your curiosity after all - and let it be recorded for all that a Gryffindor knows when to give up their pride and admit to having made a bad decision, no matter how bitter the aftertaste is on your tongue. With a forced smile on your lips and a hand rubbing the back of your head, you silently pray that your next words will ease the heavy mood that has settled in the Undercroft.

"You know what? Let's forget about it. This is really none of my business and I'm sure that -"

"No." Ominis interrupts you shyly, impossibly redder than before and you immediately shut up, eyes wide as you stare at him with your heart wanting to fly out of your chest. "I've never been like this with anyone." The small tremor in his voice indicates how nervous he feels.

It would be comical if it weren't so desperate how by now you were already certain of this statement and yet it still manages to leave you completely speechless when it leaves his lips. The regret of having started this whole thing is ridiculously more overwhelming than before because you simply don't know what to say now that you've heard what you already knew all along. Thinking back now, what in Godric's name did you plan on saying in the first place? He would confess what you suspected to be the truth and then what?

Congrats, that's what you get for being so inappropriately curious.

"T-there was this girl in fourth year and we, well, she kissed me - but it was weird and a complete accident, it only lasted for a second and...and after that I never, you know...I've never been interested in anyone like that...at least not until -"

You think you might just burst into a ball of flames from how scorching your skin is, and Ominis is obviously as disturbingly embarrassed as you are because he's gesticulating with his hands and babbling nonstop, his nervousness causing him to reveal far more than you had initially asked, making both of you more awkward by the second.

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He hadn't even kissed anyone. At least not really.

What are you supposed to do with this information?!

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, sighing so deeply that his shoulders slump with the movement, deflating the way a balloon punctured by a needle would.

Despite your brutal state of embarrassment, you frown, leaning forward on the couch so that you’re a little closer to him. “Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who asked you things that didn’t concern me. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Ominis gives you a shy smile that lacks any sincere joy. “I know, but still. I mean, I shouldn’t have — it’s weird for me to say these things about you, even though I’ve wanted to say them for a while. But I didn’t — I just didn’t want it to be this disastrous.”

In retrospect, you think this might all just be a trick of your overactive imagination. It's quite possible that you simply blacked out while Ominis was telling you about Sebastian's latest romantic endeavor - in his deep, soft voice - and that this is all just a dream.

It's a very plausible option, given that this has happened before. His presence, always so calm and controlled, combined with his mesmerizing baritone have guided you into a lethargic state of drowsiness more times than you can remember. It's just how he makes you feel - relaxed and safe.

Yes, that's what's happening once again. It has to be. Why, for heaven's sake, can't you have just heard what you think you heard, right?

But the way he stands there, serious features and a deep blush on his face, waiting for your answer with a visible degree of insecurity in his normally impassive being, is what makes you finally say something.

"W-was that about me?" You let out quietly, your racing heartbeat somehow accelerating even more, to the point where you question the harm this would do to your health. "When you said you've never been interested in anyone like that, at least until..." you continue, trying to bring some semblance of order to your thoughts, "was it me you were talking about then?"

It took a few seconds before he nodded once.

"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time. But there was always something going on - someone you needed to help, a poor creature needing to be rescued in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, a Goblin Helm to be recovered in a cursed cave far away from here..." he chuckles softly and you find yourself laughing back, shy and gentle, though a long exhale leaves your lips as you feel a bit of lightness begin to permeate the air between you two once more.

He reaches for you hesitant, but gently - oh so gently - places his cold hand above yours on the couch. You don't flinch or avoid his touch, though you still stare for a few seconds at the place where his long, pale fingers cover yours, trying to assimilate the unreal image that unfolds in front of you. And when your gaze rises and finally finds his face, it almost breaks your heart.

Realistically, you know he can’t see anything at all, but that becomes an afterthought in your mind as soon as you look at him. His eyes, bright, pale blue orbs like two moon-like spheres, are tilted and fixed at the exact same level as yours — and in this particular moment, you’re certain he’s seeing you, as impossible as that possibility may be. Swallowing the saliva that’s building in your mouth is suddenly a difficult task, but you force yourself to do it anyway.

"Ominis, what—what are you trying to say?”

You whisper slowly, as if the mere question is a secret between the two of you, the unexpected intensity in his cloudy eyes making your heart stutter as he continues to stare at you, his bushy brows furrowed in an expression that’s hard to discern. Suddenly, you realize how close you’re standing. Nothing but a small gap in the couch separates you, where your hands are clasped together and two boxes of Chocolate Frogs still rest. You can smell him, confunsing your mind as you unconsciously lean a little closer to him — fresh mint, chocolate, and something that reminds you of open parchment or the scent of the pages of a rare book.

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock. The expression on his face is vulnerable, evidenced by the furrowed lines of his brows in what looks almost like agony. But he’s also determined — a single-minded determination that’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. "It took me a while to understand it, but I think I've been since the day I met you, to be honest. When you arrived late to the Great Hall, out of breath and in a hurry, but still so ecstatic with everything around you - as if being brutally attacked by a dragon while trying to get to school was no big deal. You've been stunning to me ever since. It was impossible not to be completely enchanted by you."

You're at a loss for words, so you don't even try to find them, opting for silence as you repeat his words on a loop in your mind.

It's strange how you always imagined confessions like this should be made in front of silvery moonlit ponds or in lush meadows during the spring season or literally anywhere that could be considered even remotely inspiring for romance. Certainly not in secret spaces filled with dust, crates and training dummies like the Undercroft. But here you are; overwhelmed and speechless by a declaration made in the last place you imagined you'd receive one.

And oh Merlin, you want to believe him, to entertain the idea that someone as utterly adorable as Ominis could feel that way about you - even though you've never been able to explain to yourself how you really felt about him.

Ominis Gaunt has always been an enigma.

The Slytherin's obvious qualities are nothing new to you; his gentle disposition despite his aloof facade and the weight of his family's unsavory reputation, or his polite and gentlemanly manners towards everyone. But these were attributes that anyone with even the slightest interest in him could see, qualities that didn't set him apart that much from others you knew.

But the truth is that, with time and familiarity, you noticed other distinct peculiarities in Ominis.

Leaving aside his ethereal beauty and his tall, majestic physique, which, again, are very obvious positive traits about him, he was the most captivating man you've ever met. The patience he possessed towards others, the fierce loyalty to you and Sebastian, the fact that despite the long sermons that accompanied it, he was always breaking the promises he made to himself in favor to protect and support those he loved. His far above average intelligence, the way he annoyingly always knows the right thing to say - even, and especially, at the times when you don't want to hear it. And, of course, his most attractive side in your opinion: the unexpected softness in his dark nature - it's about him being able to frighten and silence an entire room with just his imposing presence and still be the one to comfort and care, with kindness and respect.

You certainly understood that Ominis was someone seriously conflicted. The way he sometimes tended towards a cold temperament, or how, at times, he let his emotions guide him to his dark and cold side, did not go unnoticed by you. But still, you saw how he tried hard to let his gentle side prevail in his manner.

But

Did noticing these little details that would normally go unnoticed by others mean that you reciprocate his feelings?

Well, you felt safe with him. Even safer than you felt with Sebastian. While the latter was undeniably a friend you held in high regard (and even a small crush, if you were honest) he did not give you the same sense of complete comfort and trust that Ominis did. With Sebastian you felt like you had to constantly prove yourself, like just being who you were was never enough for him. Now with Ominis...

And as you stare at him, open-mouthed, searching for the right words to respond to his unexpected declaration, you think that maybe that's why you've never been able to put a name to what you felt for him. There was no heady, bubbling, flowery passion to announce any feelings, like there had been with your other brief flirtations before - or even with Sebastian. There was only the warmth, the relief, the peace of feeling whole and completely safe.

The feeling of knowing that if you were in a life-or-death situation and could count on only one person to save you, he would be the one to come to your rescue.

Godric

Realization borns in your chest to the point where you feel like you could float, like the feeling after eating a mouthful of Fizzling Whizzbees. Suddenly, you feel like you have so much to say, but you don't know how. Ominis, as usual, is much more eloquent:

"You wanted to know if I've ever been intimate with anyone, and my answer is no." He seems more hesitant, as if his hopes have been diminished a bit along with your prolonged silence, but his voice is still soft - as is the grip of his fingers on yours. "I've never been intimate with anyone because the only person I've ever wanted to be with was you."

All the air in your lungs leaves you in a sharp exhale, the warmth of deep admiration, affection and trust filling your chest and making your heart beat wildly. Overcome with emotion, you look once more at his hand holding your smaller one, opening your mouth, fumbling for the words in a confusing jumble of vowels and consonants.

"It's okay," Ominis assures you with a sad smile, his large milky eyes slanted downward, staring blindly at where he feels you squeeze his fingers. "I know it's a lot to take in at once. I don't mean to pressure you into anything, I swear. I just, I guess I just needed to tell you how I feel. But I understand if...well...I really understand that you don't feel the same way." His thick eyebrows sink, his face hardening slightly, as if he's already prepared for your rejection.

"Ominis." His name is a sigh from your lips. Touched. Longing.

You don't know how exactly what was supposed to be just another night of studying has brought you here. All you know is that you intend to enjoy every moment of this unexpected confession, eager to discover what new paths it might lead to.

The heat of Ominis so close combined with the way your heart had raced as you focused on his perfectly flushed lips, and how his scent was making your head spin, made you suddenly feel more impulsive than ever. And that's saying something considering your history of questionable choices.

You decide to go for it.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask in a frail whisper as you realize that nothing you could say would be enough to make him understand the emotions you're feeling right now.

His head snaps up at the question, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

"W-what? I mean, yes. Merlin, yes you can -" he breathes quickly, his pale skin stained with a deep blush, his orbs darting aimlessly. "But I've never actually kissed anyone - I might not be as good at it as -"

You cut it.

"I seriously doubt that."

This only makes him blush harder and you almost regret what you said, rushing to save him from the situation.

"B-but I can show you how, if you prefer."

You’re almost breathless at this point, vaguely reminding yourself that you’re no queen of the experience either, but when he nods eagerly, everything flies out the window and it’s like the pulsing muscle in your chest has given up on this whole adrenaline show and simply stopped beating.

Well, that’s it, you think as you push the boxes of Chocolate Frogs onto the rug with trembling fingers and move closer to Ominis until your legs are touching.

You’re almost facing each other on the couch now, his breath fanning your face, gentle and soft, and you stare for a moment into the milky expanse of his eyes. Pale skin dotted with a few beauty marks, perfectly sculpted jaw, elegant nose, flushed lips slightly parted.

For a moment, shame takes over you to the point where you almost turn around and beg him to pretend none of this happened. Almost. But his thumb lovingly caressing your knuckles is what grounds you in this moment once again.

You wouldn’t be a self-respecting Gryffindor if you gave up on your goals over a little embarrassment, would you?

“Right.”

You gently cup Ominis’ jaw between your fingers, delighted when he immediately leans into the touch, unable to hide the small hitch in your breath as you feels his heart rate spike as press on a pulse point.

You lean closer to him than you’ve ever been before, your noses not even four inches apart, his minty breath tickling your face. "Close your eyes, please,” your voice trembles weakly and you wet your lips before continuing, your skin so heated that you’re sure Ominis can feel the flames emanating from it without even touching you, “and then just do what feels right, I guess – let your body guide you.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying anymore, but there he was, bathed in the flames of the braziers and the partial darkness of the Undercroft; his long, thick eyelashes fanning over his flushed cheekbones as he does exactly what you say, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.

He keeps one hand covering yours to stroke your fingers back and forth, his other hand, however, is on his own thigh, clenched into a tight fist – like a restraint. Restraint for what? You’re not sure. But the possibilities still conjure a swarm of butterflies in your belly.

Ominis leans in a little closer, almost unconsciously, parting his lips and inhaling audibly as you exhale a soft sound. Your hand slides down the sharp line of his jaw, stroking the curve of his ear with your thumb until you rest your fingers delicately on the back of his neck, guiding him to extinguish the last few inches that separate you as you let your own eyes drift closed. With a tentative brush of your lip against his, you press forward, sealing your lips and your heart with his in that moment.

The first touch is nothing and absolutely everything you imagined.

You sigh.

For the first second you freeze, afraid that you have no idea what you would do now that you finally felt Ominis Gaunt's plush lips on yours, but apparently your previous advice to him is very convenient and your instincts take over the worry almost instantly.

Your lips mold between his like a perfect fit, soft and moist, his heat invading your mouth in shy puffs. You melt almost immediately, letting the kiss remain chaste - a firm but soft pressure, with gentle movements over his.

All tension drains from your body because this is familiar; sweet, warming your body from the inside, like drinking butterbeer with friends in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's day - comfortable, safe. But it also gives you an anxious tingle that makes you unconsciously squeeze your legs together; your stomach twists and turns with funny somersaults, the swarm of butterflies more agitated than ever.

Having your lips collide with his, the softness and fresh taste he exudes, you realize how much you miss this - even if it's the first time you're experiencing it with him. So much for emotional incoherence.

Ominis breathes a shaky, heated breath into your mouth, fingers releasing your hand to grip your wrist in an almost desperate gesture.

You're the first to pull back, suddenly dizzy, blushing even more when he chases your lips for a few inches before stopping himself. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch him slowly begin to open his too, a dazed look on his face, with panting lips and rosy cheeks that make him look both childish and incredibly sinful at the same time.

"O-Ominis," you whisper, panting as if you've just finished climbing one of the mountains in the Highlands. “That was…”

In a game-changing moment, he furrows his brows and locks his jaw once before parting his lips to say, “Can we do this again? I mean, do you want to… will you let me do it again? Like, right now?”

Despite your earlier determination, you find yourself whipped by the abrupt change in his tone. At the restless eagerness in his breathy voice, at the possessive grip on your wrist. How, in the blink of an eye, the tables seem to have been turned and he’s the one taking control now. But inexplicably, your own greed for more collides with his and you find yourself nodding, before remembering that he couldn’t possibly see your silent consent.

“Yes, please…”

Unlike you thought, he doesn’t immediately pull you to his lips. What he does, however, stuns you more than any alternative. His fingers, long and elegant, adorned with a few rings that are surely worth more than your life, close around the sides of your waist as soon as the words leave your lips, hoisting your body off the couch with such blatant ease that it would surprise you if you didn’t have more shocking things to deal with at the moment. Like, for example, the fact that he made you sit facing him.

On his lap.

You gasp, absolutely mortified, but, removed from all logic, you make no move to escape his grip; allowing your legs to remain parted on the sides of his thighs, hips against his, hands gripping his broad shoulders for stability.

Ominis, unlike you, seems quite at ease with the awkward position he’s placed you in, releasing your waist to tentatively raise his cold fingers to your burning face, pale blue eyes intensely and greedily locked on your features - features he could never see. Not in the usual way.

“I can?”

Deeply disturbed by the way he’s looking at you and how quickly things have climbed, you can’t find the words to respond, choosing instead to take both of his wrists in your delicate, trembling fingers and guide his hands to your face. You try to control your rapid breathing as his fingers trace the angles of your eyebrows and jaw and the soft roundness of your cheeks and chin, the icy feel of his rings prickling your skin. His eyes slowly close, his brows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s replicating the image of your face in his mind.

“You always smell like honey and lemon tea leaves.” He murmurs with a satisfied hum, and your eyelashes flutter along with your heart as he traces the arch of your eyebrow and then the line of your nose. Your mouth falls open unconsciously when his fingers touch the softness of your lower lip, and it’s Ominis who gasps this time. You watch in embarrassed ecstasy as his face darkens with a blush, the muscle in his jaw twitching once more, his thick eyelashes fluttering over the apple of his cheeks.

You nervously smooth the green hood of the robe around his neck, playing with the texture of the fabric to distract yourself from the intense emotions that threaten to make you faint.

“Your heart is beating so loud I can hear it from here,” he says softly, tracing the delicate cupid’s bow over your lips, a mischievous tug at the right corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen a little as you let out a shy giggle, still pretending to maintain a confidence that has surely flown out the window long ago. Ominis once told you that since he lacked the fundamental sense of sight, his other senses have been immensely enhanced over the years, including hearing. And, well, your heart was beating so loudly and unkindly as the quickening footsteps of a Graphorn.

The thorough exploration stops for a moment so he can gently cup your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, and you feel the slightest pressure toward him. He pulls you straight to him.

Your faces are almost touching once more. You feel his soft breath on your cheek, hear his light but greedy intake of breath. His grip tightens the tiniest fraction.

Soft lips press against your cheek.

He doesn’t rush at all. The kiss lingers. A warm, syrupy sensation spreads through your body. Your hands tighten in the fabric around his neck. His lips press a little deeper, the tip of his nose nudging your temple affectionately. A warm sigh blows over your flushed skin before he pulls away. His fingers trail, impossibly soft, along your jaw in comforting movements as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, your other cheek, and another to the tip of your nose. His contradiction shocks you as much as it always has; how one moment he can be shy and hesitant and the next the most confident and dominant person in the world.

“So beautiful, sweet girl.”

You’re about to scream, bubbles of affection and desire exploding in your chest, your fingers itching to pull him in for another kiss. Wanting — no, needing — his lips on yours once more. You don’t have much control left, though. He’s stolen your confidence and turned it into a messy, tangled puddle of wants. You know what you want, but you don’t dare take it. Not when he’s clearly calling the shots like this. You’re frozen, barely breathing, and only vaguely aware that he’s touching your neck now, tilting your head so your faces are pressed together as he push his lips to yours again.

Merlin, yes

This time you actually shiver beneath his fingers, a helpless noise rising from your throat straight to his mouth. His other hand tightens around your waist, and the one on your neck slides into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp.

This kiss is clearly different from the last, bolder and hungrier from the first contact. And you actually find yourself questioning the veracity of his claim about being inexperienced at this, because by Merlin' sake, he certainly seems very skilled to you.

You assume this is another one of those inexplicable situations where he’s exceptionally good at whatever it is he sets out to do, even if it’s the first time he’s doing it. The thought almost irritates you, as it reminds you of your first kiss — the one that was an awkward, painful mess of teeth chattering and more saliva than there should have been. But just as quickly as the feeling appears, it’s gone.

Your head feels light and buoyant, and it feels a lot like being enchanted with a Wingardium Leviosa the exact moment his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. Then, all you can seem to hold in your mind is the sensation — the heat of his tongue in your mouth, the almost painful stab as he pulls your head back by your hair, the shocking, abject excitement that surges as he starts to act more roughly. You moan, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you so close to him that your chests are pressed tightly together.

You’re not sure when you do it, but behind your closed lids you swear you see entire constellations exploding with the sensations he gives you with his kiss.

There’s a certain degree of inexperience in the way his tongue moves inside your mouth, but that’s nothing more than a tiny detail when compared to the absolute hunger with which he seems to want to devour you. His saliva, like all of him, seems to melt on your tongue with the most addictive mint flavor - and, deliciously, the lingering taste of the chocolate you both ate not long ago.

It’s all overwhelming, perfect but overwhelming, and the dizziness comes faster than you could have anticipated, making your movements slower and heavier. A wet breath, a grunt from him, another maddening kiss, lips seeking lips, soft cotton under your fingertips. Ominis’s robe feels like a lifeline, and you grab it with everything you’ve got.

If you focused on something other than the sensation, you might notice how heated you both are and how flushed you look. Maybe you could notice Ominis’ hand gently releasing the death grip of your hand on his robe to place the aching fingers on the back of his head.

Just when your nails unconsciously scrape his scalp to pull a few strands of blond hair between your fingers, Ominis parts his lips between yours to release the most sinful of sounds — something that lies somewhere between a growl and a moan, and the thing goes like a lightning bolt straight between your legs.

It’s you who pulls him back into a feverish kiss this time, wet, breathy sounds escaping you both between the clash of your tongues as you press against each other. You’re hyper-aware of how hard he is beneath you, his length straining against the fabric of his uniform pants, and you blush — but you want him even more. Delicately but purposefully, you catch his swollen bottom lip between your teeth to tug once before licking it, but Ominis gasps so loudly and closes his hand around your neck so unexpectedly that you actually choke on a startled, high-pitched sound.

Regardless of the adrenaline rush the action generates, or perhaps precisely because of it, you brace your knees better on the couch around him, rocking your pelvis against Ominis’s before you even realize what you’re doing, enjoying the strangled gasp he lets out despite the almost fierce grip on yyour throat.

“Again. Do it again,” he breathes against your lips, resting his forehead against yours, and you do. Ominis begins to move too, thrusting his hips up while you thrust yours down, getting into a rhythm that has you both gasping in the silence of the Undercroft, the flames of the braziers the only other noises to be heard around.

His hand slides under your shirt without any warning, over the soft skin of your stomach and to the edge of your bra before pushing it up and over your breast. The shock of his cold fingers on your heated skin is so much that you cry out, your nipple hardening in his broad palm as you push harder against him, and the shuddering gasp that leaves him in response has you aching to touch him too. And, by Godric, has the Undercroft always been this suffocatingly heat?

You pull apart for air as Ominis chases your lips with his, the feverish movements of your hips momentarily ceasing.

“Ominis…?” Your unspoken question hangs in the air between you, curious, thirsty to know how far you both intend to let this go.

His nose brushes against yours, his brows furrowed in anguish, his eyes pale and intense. “Every…Every single time I heard you, or smelled you near, I felt this. This desire. I’ve imagined you, like this, with me. So many times. It’s always been you. I want this so bad.”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as breathlessly as he does, your words a shared secret between you two and the darkness. “I want this too. I want you.”

He sighs in rapture, pressing his grip on your throat a fraction further, kneading his hand over your breast until he catches a nipple between his fingers, teasing the flesh with the cold silver of his signet ring. “Then don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

The commanding quality in his normally restrained tone coupled with his unusual choice of dirty language causes a spontaneous clench in the wet region between your legs. With unsteady fingers you snake your hand under his shirt, mimicking the same liberty he’s taken with you, and feel his back arch in response as you slide your soft and warm palm across the hard planes of his abdomen. With your other hand, you hold a silky handful of his hair, pulling him into a hard kiss as you roll your hips over him again - both of you moaning at the sensual grinding of your intimate parts.

“Baby, just like that -” he breathes shakily as he pulls away from the kiss and turns his head. At first you think he might just be hiding his face in the crook of your neck, but when you feel a pair of warm lips on the delicate flesh of that area your eyes flutter shut.

“Ominis,” is all you can manage to say as you tilt your head to the side for better access and hold him tighter by the grip on the back of his neck, rolling your hips to press yourself against the Slytherin as he begins to gently suck on the sensitive skin.

There are so many layers between the two of you. Ominis’s pants, his underwear, your panties, the heavy robes draped over your bodies, the uniform shirts. Barriers that at the moment only serve to prevent the actual touch of skin on skin. And, Merlin, you want so badly to feel his skin against yours, but you feel like you can’t rush it. Either way, neither of you seem to have the patience for the task at the moment, his mouth on your neck feeling so incredibly good that you can’t think of stopping him from continuing – not even so you can undress.

This intimacy with him already surpasses any practical experience you’ve had, any previous secret make out session. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is more than you’ve ever felt before – more electrifying than raiding Goblin and Ashwinder encampments, more than rescuing a Hippogriff right under Theophilus Harlow’s nose, more than completing a Trial from one of the Keepers. And the sheer euphoria and newness of it all, the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensations, his panting breaths in your ear, the needy grip of his hands on your body, his cock pressed greedily between your legs – and, most of all, the fact that it’s him, is pushing you rapidly towards your inevitable end. You’ll come soon, and for the first time, not from your own fingers.

Ominis licks a particularly hard bite mark he’s just left (in a place that’s going to be pretty troublesome to hide, you think) and pulls back a few inches as you both move together, leaving you alone to deal with the overwhelming image of his face carved in lust; the way his porcelain skin flushes and his kiss swollen mouth opens in a long sigh, pearly eyes half-lidded between his thick lashes as he grinds eagerly against you, the normally perfectly straight strands of hair now messy from your fidgeting fingers, falling across his forehead in a way that’s disturbingly sexy.

“I thought something like this would never happen. I never thought you’d want me the same way. Not someone like me.”

The way he speaks, breathless and feverish, yet so vulnerable and sincere, has you tearing up before you even realize it, sinking your fingers into the space between his chest, right above where his heart flutters like the wings of a Golden Snitch.

“Ominis...you’re so beautiful. You’re perfect. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your feelings before. But I’m here now - you have me now.”

The breath seems to be knocked out of him by your words and you can taste his need as your mouths push together again in a slick mess of saliva and teeth - this time in the right way. Your own mind goes blank, any capacity for thought draining from you as he releases your breast to bring both hands under the skirt of your uniform, possessively grabbing the soft cheeks of your ass between his fingers to pull your body in time with his thrusts.

“Salazar, how can you be so good?” He groans as he breaks the kiss and shamelessly grinds your quivering pussy against his swollen cock, the fabric of his pants growing wet - as much his fault as yours. “Oh, I…fuck, y/n, harder. Harder, baby, please.”

You feel like your face is literally on fire, but you do as you’re told, grinding yourself hard against Ominis and watching with hypnotic attention as his eyes drift closed, his head tilting back against the back of the couch as his hips thrust upwards more roughly. The Adam’s apple in his slender, pale throat bobs with each hard swallow, his skin beginning to glisten with a subtle sheen of sweat. He’s so gorgeous, the sight of him ravished like this is so enchanting that it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s mumbling something - and a few more seconds for it to sink in that you don’t understand the language.

Because he’s speaking in Parseltongue.

You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing, considering his reservations about the dialect, too lost in the dizzying rush of pleasure. You are, however, hyperaware of the sounds that flow with hypnotic fluidity from his parted lips; harsh hisses, elongated chirps, vibrant trills of a pink tongue…

You may not understand what he’s saying, but you don’t need to be an expert in the speech to know that it’s definitely not something that should be said in public.

Your cheeks flush as he hisses something that sounds particularly filthy through clenched teeth, skin flushed and eyebrows furrowed in an almost irritated frown — which only makes him more irresistible to your eyes.

You can’t help the way your legs widen to their maximum limits, trying to mold your pussy to the thick line of his cock hidden beneath his pants as best you can.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he whispers, seemingly back to normal speech (a part of you regrets this), his mouth opening in a guttural moan.

“O-Ominis—” You say, tasting his name in your mouth and it almost sounds like a question, but he fucks himself harder against you, clawing at the flesh of your ass to keep you in place, thrusting his hips into yours until you’re moaning louder — even with the barrier of fabric separating you, you feel it perfectly when the rounded head of his cock manages to hit the exact spot where your clit is.

“Louder,” he growls, lifting his head to you once more, chasing that beautiful sound that came out of your mouth like a starving man. “Let me hear who you’re rubbing yourself against like that.” He leans down and licks a stripe down your throat to your ear.

“Oh, Ominis—” You gasp louder, arching your neck to give him more acess. You can’t even finish your sentence, your lips parted in an “o” as his cock pushes against your pussy in the sweetest way. Your thighs are trembling now, and it feels so good, and you’re going to come, you know you will. “Please, please, you’re going to make me-” the muscles in your stomach are already clenching in anticipation, your back arching, and there’s a high-pitched sound wanting to rip from your throat and you know it’s going to be loud if you can’t control yourself.

“Come on, that’s it, just like that,” he rasps, and your moans grow more intrepid, until they finally turn into desperate gasps as you feel yourself one small step away from the edge.

It feels a little like going crazy, like being out of your mind, just using each other, fucking dirty and rough through your clothes, and you barely realize you’re digging your nails into the skin of his chest until Ominis’s head is jerking back, a sound that fluctuates between a moan of pleasure and pain leaving his lips — even as he murmurs a ‘keep going, please don’t stop.’

“Give it to me, my pretty girl,” he murmurs breathlessly, and you pull the blond strands of his hair between your fingers, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open with sounds that only make his grip on your ass grow greedier. Fuck, that feels good. “Come on, y/n, baby—”

His needy plea is what sends you flying over the edge. Within seconds, your eyes are watering hard, a spiral of lightning-fast heat hitting you as your pussy flutters and clenches around emptiness, the familiar wetness soaking your panties even more.

You cover your mouth a second too late, nearly choking on the scream you muffle into the sweaty palm of the hand that was once under his shirt, your orgasm ripping through your body without any subtlety. Neurons collapsing, couch creaking with the force of your movements, vision blurring and darkening at the edges - but Ominis isn't done with you.

When your drunken gaze flickers open to focus on his face, you notice how absolutely enraptured he looks, his pale eyes locked on your face as if he can actually see you in your breakdown.

Your body is limp and shaking, but you press your forehead against his as he struggles to keep up the pace now that you've given in to exhaustion. Your mouth is parted as he breathes in and out right next to your lips, eyes half-lidded. You lean in to kiss him gently on the lips as he thrusts hard into you, cupping his face to pepper kisses across his cheeks amidst his moans.

One of the hands on your ass comes up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back so he can kiss your jaw. He thrusts into you hard enough that your body jumps up, but you hold on to him as best you can. Your bodies as entangled as they can be.

You even try to muster the strength to rock your hips against him, but his fingers in your ass tighten to keep you in place as he picks up the pace himself.

His fingers were digging into your flesh and your hair so hard it would have been painful in any other scenario. But not in this one. As it was, it was a reminder of how deep he was falling, how much he seemed to need this, need you, judging by his noises.

“Come on,” you whisper when you manage to slide your lips to his ear, both of you sweaty and flushed, your little fingers scratching the back of his neck in comforting motions as you encourage him to reach his limit, “come for me, Ominis. Please, please -”

It works. Ominis parts his lips almost immediately, giving a husky moan of release that makes your pussy quiver back to life, his larger body tensing beneath yours, shuddering once, twice. His pale, cloudy eyes look watery for a few seconds, and his perfectly chiseled cheekbones are stained with the most charming blush beneath the sweat on his skin — fuck, gorgeous, that’s what he is.

He collapses back against the couch completely after a while, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame to keep you clinging to him. Not that he needs to. You’re too languid to move. Too exhausted and spent to care about anything or anyone other than him.

His head rests against your collarbone, rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Your arms wrap around him, your hand still lightly stroking his hair. There are blond strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, and you do your best to brush them back when he looks up at you, though his eyes are still closed, visibly pleased with the end result of this study session.

His own fingers run through the unruly strands of hair around your face, brushing a few behind your ear with a gentle caress. He opens his eyes after a while, orbs cloudy and ethereal, but you swear you can see an infinite constellation of glowing dots on their pale screen.

“I…” he begins hesitantly, his voice a little firmer now, though he still wets his swollen lips before continuing. “This meant a lot to me. You have no idea how much. But I don’t want to assume anything - I just, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to - you know, don’t feel like you have to be with me just because I…” he sighs, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say something you already understand.

“Shhh,” you place the tip of your index finger over his lips, chuckling softly when he blushes, “I may have taken a while to realize it, but I also want to see where this can lead us. I do, Ominis.”

He sighs in relief, as if he’s come up for air after a long time underwater, cradling your face between the broad palms of his hands.

"Salazar, that's so good to hear. I really didn't know how I was going to go back to acting like just friends after what happened, if it was your decision." He murmurs seriously, but his sharp features are relaxed as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes as weakly scold him, though your heart is warm and cozy inside your chest, embracing this moment for what it is - precious. "Didn't you hear what I said just now?"

He pulls back a few inches, his nose wrinkling slightly as he tries to figure out what you're talking about.

He's so cute.

You can't help yourself before you purse your lips into a pout and plant a tender kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I told you you have me now, little fool."

The smile he gives you in response is extremely rare; full and bright, two cute dimples on each side of the cheeks, showing off his perfect teeth; everything as charming as the rest of him. Even though he doesn't say anything after your declaration, seeing something so unusual directed at you already tells you everything you need to know. You sigh in excitement, letting him pull you by the nape of your neck for another kiss, pouring all the adoration he feels for you into the act.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, your hair a mess of knots, your clothes wrinkled and askew, the space between you a wet, embarrassing mess - the heat from both of your robes heating your skin to an almost suffocating level. But neither of you makes any move to separate, or even to pick up your wands and cast a simple cleaning spell - too enraptured with each other and so completely satisfied that you happily ignore everything else.

You feel so happy. And, most importantly, ready for what is to come.

Outside the castle, the snow falls without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals. But here, in this dusty and unlikely place for romance, you feel safe and warm.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ominis gaunt smut #slytherin #gryffindor #hp hogwarts legacy #parseltongue #parselmouth

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jweekgoji · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, if you have time, energy and motivation for this, then please write a sequel on yandere!tfrid2015.

Yandere!TfRID2015/Reader [hcs]

tw: nsf/w(-ish) headcanons so minors don't read, possessiveness, praise kink, size kink, power dynamics, marking. word count: ~820 a/n: it has been in my drafts since summer so a good time to finally finish it.

Bumblebee

This Bumblebee is such an interesting character for me, mainly because he is finally taking the serious role in the series. Due to a lot of responsibilities with his own team (newbies, a half-functioning minicon, a clumsy cute dinobot!) and constant Decepticons' attacks. He puts up with a lot of stress. 🐝 probably prefers soft moments of intimacy (honestly, I can't even imagine yan!🐝 being violent at all); maybe even let you do the job while he can just relax and finally forget about controlling everything and everyone. He is vocal, though he would probably try to put his own servo over his mouth, mainly because he's still a bit shy that someone might hear him. I mean, looking back at where they 'live'...good luck.

This Bumblebee probably has a praise kink, and he would absolutely MELT when you call him 'sir'. It's just something that gets him going even when he's too tired to even move a finger.

Respect, respect, he likes it! Whether you're the one receiving pleasure, whining and accidentally moaning the soft 'lieutenant!' during it, or holding him down, telling Bumblebee how good he is, such a good and caring leader...your poor lieutenant Bee! You're probably putting a lot of dirty and unnecessary thoughts in his processor.

Grimlock

Grimlock absolutely knows how good he is. He also absolutely understands what role he has in the team. Muscles. And he has no shame when it comes to his size! He is used to bots around him being annoyed when he accidentally breaks something or bumps into stuff, the 🦖 gets a little confused when he meets someone who's...into it? I think he would probably be into size kink when his partner shows that they love how big he is! But probably a little worried since he doesn't want to hurt you. Is he doing well with using his sharp digits inside you? Grimlock doesn't want to hurt his sparkmate!!

Despite having an intimidating look, he is a massive dork (affectionately) who is totally in love with his partner. That's why Grimlock being responsible big dinobot would always make sure you're satisfied first! He is still reluctant about doing it in his dino mode, but he might take this challenge only if you would be on top of him. Otherwise, it would be...awkward.

Sideswipe

Young, arrogant, and painfully determined when it comes to a good fragging. At first glance, you might think he's incredibly experienced, and he'll pretend he is until it comes to a moment of intimacy between you. An extremely confident bot will start to blush and hide his face as soon as you straddle him, and no matter how hard he tries to squeeze out a smirk, it's hard not to notice the little shiver that runs through his body.

But a little determination with you, and you see the old Sideswipe again. He will tease and try to coax a reaction out of you, but only because he longs for you to finally snap and give him a good spanking. He really is into being tamed by his sparkmate, especially if they're better than him in everything.

Strongarm

Sometimes she talks about Cybertronian rules so much, you wonder if she mutters them even when she's asleep? Strongarm always wants what is best for her loved one, so it is no surprise that she shared with you everything she knows.

Strongarm very well mirrors Sideswipe, but in everything Sideswipe is cocky and teasing, Strongarm is cautious and responsible. Sure, she has her own moments, but Primus help her! She totally can't help when you try to distract her whenever she gives you a lecture. Everything you do seems to catch her attention. The way you look at her, or how you bite your lip when thinking about something... It is probably very, very wrong and unprofessional when you try to seduce her, calling her by the title and playing as if you're one of the criminals she caught. This will not affect her results, right?

Steeljaw

Scratching, lots of scratching. The cunning wolfticon is not so gentle at all, not to imagine, if he's obsessed with his darling. I'm just very sorry for their paint job. It must be so tiring polishing your armor and fixing the small scratches around the insides of your thighs and hips every single time you two decide to get intimate together. Scratching is not only his way of separating himself from the former fraction but a way of marking someone. A three simple but a little too deep mark on your shoulder is now a longtime reminder of who you belong to.

But it doesn't mean it doesn't work both ways. If 🐺 is in the right mood, with his tail wagging behind his back and his spike slamming into you so deep it makes you seem stars, he will probably encourage you to leave some marks on him as well.

#yandere x reader #transformers x reader #transformers robots in disguise x reader #bumblebee x reader #strongarm x reader #grimlock x reader #sideswipe x reader #steeljaw x reader

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ameliathornromance · 23 hours ago

Text

Cage Fighter! Orc x Reader - Prolouge

A/N: Here it is! I've decided to kind of start the story backwards, from the very beginning of all of this 'going on the run' stuff. If there's any feedback you want to give on how you'd like to see the story go, please comment and I'll consider it when writing the next part. Enjoy the prolouge!

TWs: Orc loses a tooth, mention of drugs and an illegal cage fighting ring and violence.

The room you’d been given as a nurses office was grimy. The walls were spattered with black mould, the examiners table in the corner of the room had chunks of it’s mattress missing, exposing the yellowing sponge, which otherwise would have been clad in the same black faux plastic lining that was held together with duct tape.

You had done your best to sterilise the tools you’d been given, soaking them in alcohol, spraying them with other cleaning supplies and – for good measure – bleach.

Given how dirty the office was you’d been given, you doubted that your efforts to sustain a clean environment would do much. But something, was better than nothing.

Outside of your office, the muffled cheers of the ongoing cage match went on, accompanied with the occasional crack of bones breaking or hard slap of skin on skin as the two fighters collided in battle.

Sometimes, you wanted to cover your ears, sink into your imagination, pretend you were back in your residency, where everything was fine and well… Well, as ‘fine and well’ as it could be. You would try to imagine the clean and sterile office you shared with your fellow students, and their white coats, clean of any kind of bodily fluid, showing off their naïvety to the field of medicine.

But the harsh reality of your situation always came back to you, when the door leading out to the cage would be thumped on and in would stumble this evenings fighter.

Tonight, you were in charge of taking care of the Event organisers favourite toy: Big Money.

From what you knew – being given a file of medical information about the Orc – he was 6’3, was over 201 pounds of muscle and could throw what the Event Organisers so lovingly and excitedly called, ‘the Death Punch.’

That was detailed in the notes of the file. The rest of the medical information was pretty standard, he was aged 28, didn’t smoke, but drank quite heavily, wasn’t sexually active and had no known allergies or conditions.

And, as if hearing your thoughts, a hard thump came from the other side of your door.

You opened it and stepped aside to allow the Orc to enter. Unlike most other combatants, he came in steadily, as if he’d never been in a fight in the first place.

Without so much as a greeting, he sat on the table and looked at you expectantly. Grabbing your tools, you got to work.

There was no point in trying to talk to him. Ninety percent of the time, these fighters were too out of their minds on adrenaline or some kind of other substance to hold a proper conversation and could only answer your basic medical questions.

First, you examined his face.

While beat up, and slowly turning black and blue in certain places, there didn’t seem to be anything too damaged. The tell tale signs of broken bones were absent, as well as anything that would signal lasting damage.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” You asked him. Holding up three fingers, the Orc grunted. “Three fingers.”

“Can you repeat back to me this sentence? ‘The lazy brown fox jumps over the moon.’”

“The lazy brown fox jumps over the moon.” He repeated back to you. “What was that for?”

“Making sure you still have brain function. Usually, if you’ve been knocked silly, you’d be struggling.” You replied. “One last test: can you spell the word ‘thorough’ backwards?

“’Thorough’?” He repeated. Pursing his lips, he frowned. “h, g, u, o…” He tutted, annoyed at the hard word you’d given him. “R o, h t?”

“Good. What about anywhere else? Anything hurt particularly bad?”

Big Money flexed his arms, then his hands, bandaged to avoid getting any permanent form of injury. You couldn’t ignore the dark red blotches on his knuckles as he flexed his fingers.

Was that his blood or his opponents? It wouldn’t have mattered if it was his, the organisers would still want him back out there.

“No, nothing.” He replied, resting his arms beside his body. “My jaw feels a little numb, but other than that, everything’s fine. Could I get some water? My mouth tastes funny.”

“’Funny’?” You raised an eyebrow. Heading to a door opposite the one to the ring, you poked your head out and called to the doorman, “hey! I need water in here! Something’s wrong.”

The doorman, whose feet has been rested up on his table, counting bills of bloodthirsty viewers, bolted upright, “on it.” And with that, he darted off down the hall.

Pulling your head back in, you gestured for the Orc to open his mouth. “Can you describe ‘funny’ to me?”

Big Money opened his mouth to answer, but it turned out that his body had other plans. Blood spilled from his lips and down his front. He gasped and clutched his hand over his mouth, “shit, sorry, I couldn’t taste anything, I thought-”

But you were already mopping up the blood from his chin and chest. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve had druggies try and bite me before, this is luxury compared to that.” You said.

Once the blood had been cleared, holding the towel under his chin, you looked inside his mouth. While you had studied the mouth and teeth while in medical school, it was not nearly in depth enough for you to be considered any good at diagnosing mouth related issues.

But this was a glaringly simple diagnosis.

“You’ve lost a molar on the left of your jaw.” You observed. The door behind you opened and the doorman stepped inside, holding a bottle of water.

You took it and handed it to the Orc, pulling a bucket out from under the examining table. “Spit into this until the blood stops getting distracting.” It’s not like you could do anything to help him now, the organisers would want him back out there ASAP for his next fight.

For now, all you could do was prolong his time out there before he would need proper medical intervention.

As Big Money did as you asked, you glanced over your shoulder, and found the doorman was still there. He has his arms crossed, and a smirk plastered on his face.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” he said, noticing your gaze. “Look at him, even after all that out there, he’s still going to go back out there.” The way this man spoke, was like he was looking at some kind of wild animal, or looking at a circus performer who’d just done an impossible act.

“A complete an utter beast.”

“If you’re going to just stare at my patient, then you can leave.” You said, sternly. “Or, you can make yourself useful and find me some gauze. If you want to see your ‘beast’ out there in the ring, then you might want to do as I say and get what he needs.”

The doorman recoiled, as if he was surprised that you were trying to do your job. But with a scowl and curses mumbled under his breath, he stalked out of the room.

Big Money had finished rinsing his mouth out when you turned back to face him, bucket of red liquid in his lap. He picked up the towel from beside him and pressed it to his lips. “Thank you.” His voice came out muffled from behind the towel. “The last guy who used to help us would treat us like caged animals.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You said, taking the bucket from him. “I’m no professional, but as long as I’m here, you lot won’t be treated like that.”

A moment later, the doorman came back in and tossed a packet of gauze at you, before slamming the door shut.

You caught them clumsily, the bucket of redness sloshing in your hand as you steadied it with your knee. Setting the bucket down on the side of the mattress, you unwrapped the gauze and told the Orc to open his mouth again.

He does as asked and you proceed to pack the thick wads of fabric over his gum. “Did they give you a mouth guard?” You asked him.

Big Money made a negatory ‘uh-uh’ with his open mouth. You sighed. “Alright. Well try to avoid getting hit in the face again… or swallowing the gauze. Your stomach won’t be happy otherwise.”

He nodded and stood up. Stretching his arms above his head, he headed for the cage rings’ door. Placing his hand on the door handle, he looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).” You answered.

“Thank you for helping me out, (Y/N).” And for the first time since being here, you received a smile. An actual, genuine smile.

You couldn’t help but return it as he stepped back out into the ring, shutting the door closed behind him.

The rest of the night went just about as smoothly as you could expect. You got one or two people who were hyped up on something, and completely uncooperative with your attempt to treat them.

One of them was mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like a prayer, but it was hard to say when all you could hear from the ring was shrieks and roars of a crowd entertained by gore.

By the time the night was over, you made a mark up of people you had treated and what for.

Three guys were treated for fractured ribs, two for pectoral tears, Big Money for his missing tooth and numbness in his jaw, and finally, four different guys who were dazed and confused after suffering one of Big Money’s ‘punches of Death.’

No one had been knocked unconscious and no one had suffered any concussions.

In comparison to the first few nights you’d been there, tonight was pretty tame.

You went to hand your report to the Event Organisers, who accepted it gratefully and handed you enough money for the next days standard three meals, plus enough money for bus fair to and from the secret cage fighting ring and then sent you on your way.

Due to the nature of your loan, this was all they would give you. 100 gold coins for your nights work. The rest of the money they pulled in from the sickos who came to see the fights, went into paying off your loan.

And tomorrow would be the same again. 100 gold coins for a nights work.

The cage fighting actually took place in an abandoned car park, down in the underground levels, in the middle of what was going to be a small tourist attraction town, full of weird and wonderful shops that sold trinkets and other strange and impractical things.

But now it laid undisturbed, the wild life around slowly beginning to consume the buildings that would have hosted people from all over the world.

The rest of the car park was filled with the spectators. Most of them looked like the kind of people you’d find in underground fighting rings. Tattoos of gang affiliation, weird body modifications and a few Monsters who come to see the fight.

They were all chatting amongst themselves, probably discussing how that evenings matches went.

A part of it made you feel sick to your stomach. These people don’t see the full damage done by the fighters, but you, you saw it all.

You wanted to shout at them all, tell them they were all sick for enjoying watching people beat each other to a bloody pulp, as if this was just average entertainment for them.

But you kept quiet. If you turned on them, then you might end up in worse trouble than a gang of questionable types intimidating you.

As you left the car park, the voices around you seemed to get louder, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You found yourself greeted by a beat up range rover. And leaning on it, was Big Money. People were walking past him, patting him on the shoulder, or giving some kind of mumbled congratulations, while others simply gave him a curt nod and moved on.

And while he nodded at them, paid them attention, his eyes soon found their way back to you.

When you realised it was you he wanted to speak to, you greeted him. “Hey.”

Why was he out here? Surely he of most people would have been the most eager to get out of the car park. Who would want to be spoken to by the crowd that exited the car park all around you.

Big Money nodded back in greeting, “I wanted to thank you for this evening. Properly.” He pushed himself off his car and opened the passenger door. “Can I buy you dinner?”

You eyed him. Most of these men who fought in the ring, were not people you would want to meet in a dark alleyway at night. And although Big Money was polite and seemed to sincerely want to show you gratitude, that didn’t mean he was safe to be around.

But then again, you were probably the most careful medical professional around and the Event Organisers would get suspicious if you weren’t up to your full standard tomorrow. And then, you could lay the blame on Big Money if he was really planning on doing something to you.

Then Big Money would really be in trouble.

“Alright.” Climbing into the car, Big Money shut the door behind you and got into the other side of the car. “I’m Rok, by the way.”

Your eyebrows went up in surprise as he pulled out of the car park and past the many spectators. “Rok?”

At that, Rok laughed as he came out onto the motorway. “What? You didn’t think ‘Big Money’ was my real name, did you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You said, honestly. “I… just didn’t expect you to introduce yourself to me, that’s all.” It felt stupid to think, but you hadn’t really given much consideration to whether or not ‘Big Money’ was his real name.

“Well, I know your name, why can’t you know mine?” He explained.

You leaned against the cars door, putting your head in your hand. “Well, I just thought that I was just the medic. No one really cares about what I want to know, they just expect me to do my job and keep quiet about it.”

“Same thing here.” Rok replied. “They just want me to get in the ring and fight. They don’t care about what I want. Or what I want to know.”

You frowned at that. The rest of the drive went in silence, before an old restaurant appeared, shining in the middle of the night like a beacon of hope.

The name above the entrance was ‘Ramen No Hai!’ It’s exterior looked as though it had been taken straight from Japan and plonked in the middle of the Western country side.

It’s shoji door had rips and tears in the delicate paper, clumsily patched back together with duct tape. But the windows were lit up and the strong smell of sweet broth caused your stomach to growl with hunger.

Rok stepped out of the car and before you could even put your hand on the door handle, he had the car door open for you.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you climbed out of the car. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

The Orc shook his head, “yes I do. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be in a lot worse shape than I am now.”

Entering the shop, Rok took a seat at the Ramen bars counter. You sat beside him as Rok was handed two menus by the chef behind the counter. Handing one to you, he asked, “what got you working for them then?”

When you gave him a suspicious look, he gave a shrug. “What? I’m not allowed to know your backstory? No on gets into this job without some kind of rise and fall.”

You thought that this was going to be a kind of thank you meal, you didn’t expect to uncover your whole past to the Orc. But it’s not like there would be any harm in it. He’s right to a degree, no one just starts working for an underground cage fighting ring unless they’re forced into it.

And with that in mind, it’s only natural that some people are kind of curious. Everyones stories had to be similar in some shape or form.

… But yours is a little different than just simply owing the Event Organisers money.

“’Rise and fall’ is a very… gentle way to put it.” You said, carefully. Raising an eyebrow at Rok, you offered, “how about this? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Rok smirked, “deal. But you go first, I’m very intrigued now.”

After ordering dinner, you sucked in a deep breath and you exhaled slowly, closing your eyes. It seemed so strange to remember everything now. It was only a few months ago that it all happened, but it was like years had passed.

You recounted, “ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be a Doctor, Nurse, or anything in the medical field. I found the body fascinating, human, non-human, just the way out our systems worked was just…” you searched the air for the word, “incredible. I wanted to know about how all of it worked, why it worked the way it did and how we can fix or maintain our bodies.

“So, I wanted to get into medical school and I needed to borrow money,” you gave him a knowing look and the Orc nodded, understandingly. “I got in with flying colours and started studying. I went into residency in a hospital and we got a patient with Haemophilia.”

Rok nodded, but you got the sense that he didn’t know what the condition was.

“Haemophilia is a condition where the blood doesn’t clot.” You said, simply. “It’s nicknamed ‘the Royal disease’ because a lot of monarchs had it. Anyway, I was being overseen by this Doctor who just didn’t believe in the condition.”

Rok frowned, “’didn’t believe in the condition’?”

You let out a grim snort, “yeah, I know. He was such a stubborn ass. And when all of the medical students tried to tell him that we couldn’t perform specific tests on the patient, he just shouted us all down, told us that ‘we’re just students, we don’t know anything, he’s been a doctor for over twenty years,’” you rolled your eyes. “So, none of the other students wanted to disobey him, so they went ahead with the tests. I didn’t do any of them because I’m not stupid. I told the hospital director about it and he told me that he’s not going to sack a Doctor who’s been working for him for over twenty years so…”

You sucked in a deep breath and glowered at the counter in front of you. “I went to the police. I told them that the hospital was doing malpractice and when the police arrested him, the director chewed me out for it.”

“What about the patient?” asked Rok. “Was the patient okay?”

“Oh,” you pointed at him, “that’s the worst part: because the patient couldn’t clot, she died of blood loss and then guess who got saddled with the blame?” You gestured to yourself. “Me.”

Rok’s jaw dropped. “What? But that’s…”

“I know, ridiculous, stupid. Probably easily disproved. But it turns out when it’s you verses a hospital director, your classmates and fellow residents as well as the ignorant Doctor’s family, no one really cares what’s the truth and what’s not.” Hanging your head, you let out another sigh. “And then I lost my place at medical school and now I’m drowning in debt to them. So, I have to work to pay it all back.”

Silence hung in the air, punctuated by the chefs in the kitchen in front of you, shouting in Japanese to one another, the popping and crackling of frying chicken accompanying them.

“That’s…” Rok started, “that’s horrendous.”

You snorted. “Yeah. I know.” Looking up from the counter, you turned to look at the Orc. “Well, that’s my sad story – what’s yours?”

The Orc stiffened at your question. “Well, it’s certainly not heroic like yours is.” He sighed.

“’Heroic’ is not what I’d call it.” You said, flatly.

“Compared to mine it is. I’m a villain compared to your story.” He snorted. “I was a bouncer at this club. One night, I met this man who was way too pushy about getting in. I think he was hopped up on something or other. Anyway, he didn’t fit the clubs dress code, he got mad, started talking about ‘how cool his drip is’ and ‘how he makes more than me on crypto in a day than I do in a month.’ When I started ignoring him and letting in people who were not shoving their wealth in my face, he started to get violent. Now,” Rok raised his index finger. “As a bouncer, your job is to do one thing: stop people who might be a danger to the business from getting into the place your protecting. And when he started punching and hitting me, I didn’t really have a choice but to hit back.”

You watched as Rok put his head in his hands, “and when I did, he fell to the ground, landed at an odd angle on the curb of the road and broke his arm and ribs. And the next thing I know, I’m in court for ‘unreasonable use of force’, I’ve been fired and now I’m drowning in debt trying to settle this guys medical bills for the damage I caused.”

“And then you wind up in the same position I do.” You said.

“Bingo.” Rok sighed. “I only pushed him away from me, how was I supposed to know that he was going to fall into the road?”

Rok’s incident really seemed to be an unfortunate accident. It’s unfair that he’s being punished for that.

“You couldn’t have known.” You reasoned. “There was no way you could have, you were only doing your job.” Biting your lip, you went on. “Kind of like I was.”

He gave you a confused look, “I don’t think we can really compare our occupations.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I kind of think we can. We both agreed to protect and help people, I signed the hippocratic oath, you put your body on the line to stop people like that guy from getting in and possibly hurting someone.” Leaning against the counter, you frowned. “And we both got punished for trying to do the right thing.”

Rok thought about it for a moment. “I… see what you mean.”

Just then, your ramen bowls were placed in front of you, the chef placing the bill in a plastic stand.

Rok motioned for a drink and the chef nodded, went over to a fridge and pulled out a bottle of sake, and two small glasses.

After opening the bottle, he set it down in front of Rok and left.

The Orc poured the two of you drinks and held his own glass up. The glass looked like it would fit more into a dolls house while in his huge meaty hands as he spoke, “to us, who worked out to have the shittiest luck when it comes to doing whats right.”

You raised your glass and toasted. At the same time, the pair of you downed the alcohol.

“But at least we have the worst luck together.” You sighed, setting down the empty glass.

“Yeah,” Rok smiled, wiping his lips of the remaining drink. “At least we have company.”

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#monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #orc boyfriend #orc romance #orc fiction #monster x you #monster x reader #monster x female #orc x reader #orc x female reader #orc x human #orc x you #orc x reader fluff #orc oc #orc oc x reader

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rispwr · 2 days ago

Text

A thin line between love and hate - KNJ - mini

Pairings : knj x fem! Reader

Genre : flufffff, students au, frienemies to lovers,

Contents : alot of bickering, just kissing, love letters, confusion, buzz cut namjoon, academic rival! Namjoon, he is down baddd (in secret).

Synopsis : 100 reasons to leave but 1 reason to stay.

Notes : this is a test post if i should actually continue this story so tell me what you all think!!

“Read this when you get home, Namjoon,” I said, handing him the letter.

“What-” he started, but I quickly cut him off. “I don’t accept any responses that aren’t written in a letter,” I said fast, my heart pounding so loudly I swore he could hear it.

He chuckled, his eyes falling on the envelope, and I immediately regretted the kiss mark I had stamped on it earlier. “To: Namjoon, from: the gorgeous one and only,” he read out loud with an annoying grin. “Are you gonna finally confess your undying love for me, my Miss ‘Gorgeous One and Only’?” he teased.

I rolled my eyes and hit him lightly on the chest. “I-I’ll go home,” I stammered, spinning on my heel to leave, but before I could take another step, he grabbed my arm.

“Wait,” he said, turning me back toward him. His gaze softened as he studied my face like he was trying to figure out what I wasn’t saying. Then, out of nowhere, he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, then my neck.

“What are you doing?” I squealed, slapping his hand away.

“You’re not the mean Y/N I know. Are you sick or something?” he asked, tilting his head like he was genuinely concerned.

“Good god, Namjoon, I am not mean,” I groaned, flipping my hair dramatically.

“Yes, you are,” he shot back.

“No, I’m not!”

“You called my hair ‘freshly cut grass if you burn it to crisps.’”

I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to argue with him anymore. “Just- just go home, get unready, read the letter, then think about it and write back to me,” I said, rolling my eyes again for good measure.

“And if I don’t write back?” he teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into that smirk I hated and… didn’t hate.

“Then don’t,” I said quickly, spinning around and walking away before he could see how red my face was.

Behind me, I heard him chuckling softly, and I didn’t need to look back to know he was still standing there, watching me.

——

The letter

“Dear, namjoon.

I don’t even know how to start this. I’ve written and rewritten this letter a hundred times in my head, but now that it’s finally in front of me, I feel like I can’t find the right words. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe there aren’t any perfect words for this mess of feelings I have for you.

I guess I should start with the truth. this was supposed to be a list of all the reasons why I should leave you alone. A list of all the ways you make me so mad, so frustrated, so impossibly confused that I want to walk away and never look back. I thought if I wrote it all down, I’d finally convince myself to let you go. But the problem is, every reason I came up with to leave you somehow turned into a reason

I couldn’t.

I hate the way you tease me. You’re always making these cutting little comments, smirking like it’s a game to see how far you can push me before I snap. You make me feel small sometimes, and I hate that. But then, when it really matters, you’re so damn gentle. Like that time I twisted my ankle during practice, and you carried me all the way to the nurse’s office without saying a word. You didn’t laugh at me or tease me that time. You just stayed.

I hate how you always say you’d never stick around for someone like me. You said once that the day you stay by my side would be the day you die. But when I got sick last month, you were the first one at my door. You stayed up all night, making sure I had everything I needed. I remember the way your hand brushed against mine when you gave me medicine, and I hated how much that simple touch made me feel safe.

I hate how you act like you don’t care. Like nothing about me matters to you. “I don’t care who likes you,” you said once. But I’ve seen the way your eyes darken when someone flirts with me. I’ve seen you bite back comments when someone gets too close. You don’t care, right? Then why do I catch you watching me like you’re afraid I might slip through your fingers?

I hate how we’re always competing. I hate how every test, every class, every little thing turns into a battle between us. You drive me insane. And then I found out you purposely bombed the math competition last year so I could win. Do you have any idea how furious that made me? How much it made me want to scream at you and then cry? You’re the only person who could make me feel so many things at once.

God, I hate how you always roll your eyes whenever someone brings up the idea of us being together. Like the thought of kissing me is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. But the way you looked at me that night on the rooftop, don’t think I didn’t notice. You looked at me like you were trying to memorize the curve of my lips, like you were imagining what it would feel like to finally cross that line we’ve been toeing for years.

I hate the faces you make when people tease us. You make it so obvious you want everyone to stop talking about it, like the idea of us is something ridiculous. But then there are the moments when you don’t realize I’m watching. Like when we were studying in the library, and you stare at me a little too long before shaking your head and going back to your book. I wonder what you’re thinking in those moments.

Do you remember the picnic you planned last spring? You pretended like it was no big deal, like you were just being “nice.” But you remembered everything. my favorite snacks, my favorite flowers, even that stupid song I said reminded me of summer. You don’t just pay attention, Namjoon. You remember. You care. You say you hate me, but your actions… they say something completely different.

That’s what this all comes down to, isn’t it? Your actions. You can say you hate me a thousand times, but every single thing you do tells me the opposite. You tease me, but you’re the first person to comfort me when I’m upset. You push me away, but you’re always there when I need someone to lean on. You say you don’t care, but you’ve made it impossible for me to believe that.

You make me question everything myself, my feelings, you. I hate how much power you have over me. I hate how you make me feel vulnerable, like my heart is constantly in your hands. But most of all, I hate how much I love you for it.

Namjoon, I could list a hundred reasons why I should walk away from you. A hundred reasons why I should hate you. But there’s one reason I can’t.

You.

Because for all your contradictions and flaws, for all the ways you drive me absolutely insane, you’ve shown me something no one else ever has. what it means to be seen. Truly seen. You see me, and that’s why I stay.

So, yeah, I hate you. But I love you more. And I think maybe I always will.

Love, Y/N”

———-

The response

Dear, Y/N

I don’t even know where to start. Is this a confession? A declaration? Or just me finally telling the truth? Whatever it is, it feels like I’m submitting an essay to you, and if I know you well enough, you’re probably laughing at the thought. Or rolling your eyes. Either way, here I am.

You really had to go and write that letter, didn’t you? I read it five times before I could even process what you were saying. I’d look at the words, try to let them sink in, and then find myself going back to the beginning because I didn’t trust myself to read it right the first time. And now, here I am, trying to figure out how to say everything I’ve been keeping inside for way too long.

I’m going to be honest. I’ve been so confused. About you. About us. About everything. It feels like my entire existence has been one long argument with myself. I’ve tried so hard to hate you. I’ve tried. But it’s like every time I convince myself that I’ve won the fight, you do something that tears me apart all over again.

The more I’ve tried to hate you, the more I’ve fallen for you. And I hate that. I hate that love and hate are built on such a thin, fragile line, because I’ve been walking that line since the day we met. And the truth is, I’m ready to cross it. I think I crossed it a long time ago.

Do you remember the math competition last year? Of course you do. you brought it up in your letter. You think I tanked it for you because I wanted you to win. But it wasn’t about the win, Y/N. It was about you. You think you’re the only one who notices things? I’ve been paying attention to you since the day we met. The way you light up when you succeed. The way your hands shake when you’re nervous but you try to hide it. The way you care so deeply about everything, even when you act like you don’t.

I saw that fire in you, and I knew that you deserved that win. You deserved everything. Even if it meant giving up my own shot at SNU Because what’s a scholarship to me when I can see you reach for the stars and actually touch them?

I don’t know how to talk to you without fumbling over my words. So I make fun of you instead. I say stupid things like, “I’d never stay by your side” or “kissing you would be a mistake,” because the alternative is saying, “You terrify me.”

You terrify me because you make me want things I’ve never wanted before. You make me want to be better, softer, more vulnerable. And I hate that vulnerability, but I’d give it all to you if you asked.

The truth is, I loved you before we even met. Remember your debate 4 years ago? I saw you before you ever saw me. You were standing at the front of the room, flipping through your notes with this look of determination on your face. You bit your lip when you were focused, and I thought to myself, There she is. There’s the person who’s going to turn my whole world upside down.

And you did. Not in the way I imagined this back and forth, this endless teasing and fighting but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every insult, every sarcastic comment, every time you rolled your eyes at me it’s all brought me closer to you. Closer to this moment.

Guess i was right. It was a confession for your undying love for me.

I love you, I’ve loved you since watching that debate, since before I even knew what love was supposed to feel like. And I love you even more now. I love you more than I hate how messy this all is. I love you more than I care about making sense of it. I love you more than I could ever put into words, and trust me, I’ve tried.

This is my response to your letter. It’s messy and chaotic, just like us. But it’s real. It’s me. And it’s all for you.

Always, Namjoon

——

“Here. Here’s the response to your love letter,” Namjoon said, holding out an envelope in my favorite color: purple.

“Wow-“ I started, but before I could say anything else, he pulled me in and kissed me.

I froze for a second, completely caught off guard, but then I melted into it, my hands instinctively wrapping around his neck. His grip on my waist tightened, like he didn’t want to let go. When he finally pulled away, his eyes locked on mine, and I could feel my face burning.

“That’s my physical response to you,” he teased, his smirk making me feel even more flustered.

“And this is your verbal response?” I asked, glancing down at the letter in my hands, trying to tease him back but failing miserably because I couldn’t stop smiling.

He grinned, watching as I nervously started to open the envelope. “Wait- don’t open it here,” he said, stopping my hand.

I looked at him, confused. “Why not?”

“Let’s go somewhere nicer,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Our place? Han River?”

My eyes lit up, and a big smile spread across my face as I nodded. “Okay”

Bonus part

“Joonnn! I’m not prepared!” I squealed, half laughing, half dying of embarrassment as Namjoon hovered over me, his lips pressing soft kisses to my neck.

“What are you talking about?” he mumbled between kisses, his voice low and teasing.

“I haven’t shaved, okay? And- and I’m not even wearing nice undies right now… I’m wearing my grandma undies,” I blurted out, my voice dropping into a whisper by the end, mortified.

Namjoon pulled back just slightly, raising an eyebrow at me. “So what? I like nature,” he said, deadpan.

My jaw dropped. “Oh my god, stop- ” I burst into laughter, shoving at his chest. “I won’t be able to look at nature the same way ever again, you crazy man!”

“Crazy? Me? Well i am for you,” he whispered dramatically, his lips moving lower as his hands found my waist. I gasped, half in shock, half trying to wriggle away from his hold.

“Are you insane?” I whisper yelled, my hands tangling in his hair to pull him back up. But he just looked at me with that stupid smirk of his.

“Do you not wanna do it? I can stop, baby,” he said, his voice soft and genuine, but the way he was grinning made it clear he was enjoying my mortification a little too much.

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands before blurting out, “Just- just let me go to the bathroom real quick!”

Before he could say anything else, I scrambled off the bed and bolted to the bathroom like my life depended on it, slamming the door shut behind me.

When I finally came out, after way too long debating if I could ever look him in the eye again, Namjoon was already lying in bed, grinning like an idiot. “What took you so long, Grandma Undies?”

“Namjoon!” I yelled, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed, pulling me into his arms.

In the end, nothing happened. We just ended up cuddling to sleep, his arms wrapped tightly around me while he whispered about how much he loved me. And honestly? That was more than enough.

#rispwr #bts #bts x reader #namjooning #namjoon x you #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon bts #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon #rm bts #bts rm

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