#i can't remember what it was but that's another one i'm on the chase for </3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deikshen · 8 days ago

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Shen Yuan who lives his life being an absolute simp of some character from a random stallion novel—[character] is absolutely amazing! He has a harem of beauties! And also, a rich and wonderful story where he rises from the most vile and gains his power based on his efforts! If only the story had a little more worldbuilding and cool monsters, Shen Yuan would like it more. But. But there's [character] and definitely everything it's worth reading! He's smart, cunning, and strategic! And his adventures are GREAT! He faces incredible trials, and even though he collects wives as trophies, those wives are INTERESTING. The character development! The story! The harem drama!!!

So one day, Shen Yuan is just doing nothing, waiting for another update on his favorite read—it would be the last chapter!!! Finally a closure to the final dramatic arc!! And Shen Yuan hoped it would be a GOOD ENDING—, when a portal opens in his fucking apartment. After cursing, yelling, and scuttling away, a xianxia man clearly emerges. WHAT. THE. FUCK!?

The man is... what the hell? Shen Yuan thinks he knows him, in some weird way, like, maybe he's seen his face somewhere??? Any popular novel or thing that hasn't caught his attention but he KNOW is famous? What the fuck??

The xianxia man with an absolutely OP sword if he was able to open a FUCKING PORTAL THROUGH THE UNREALITY OF FICTION WHAT THE HELL looks at Shen Yuan with, first, doubt, and then, certainty.

"So, that's Shizun" says the xianxia man, grinning like a fucking nightmare cat, with many menacing teeth. "This Emperor is glad to see you again."

The only intelligent thing Shen Yuan can say is: "Who the hell are you?"

The xianxia man looks confused. He doesn't let that emotion dominate him. He advances in his room with firm steps, his dark robes billowing as he goes. He's clearly not fully human, from the red mark on his forehead, those pointy ears, those black claws...

Shen Yuan doesn't recognize a damn thing about the character. He knows he's famous, he knows it, but why can't he remember it...?

"This Emperor is Luo Binghe" he introduces himself simply, and Shen Yuan's jaw drops.

"No fucking way" is all Shen Yuan actually says, suddenly recognizing the name, and realizing why he'd never read anything more than skimmed about the character. And his sister had actively tried to get him to read it!! "You—... Luo Binghe like, the one from that danmei novel? What the fuck?"

Shen Yuan hadn't been interested at all. While Luo Binghe's character seemed minimally... intriguing... Danmei novel! He had nothing against gays, but why would he read a gay thing?? Besides, what were those relationships!! Transmigration with identity never revealed? Protagonist/Scum Villain?! Even worse, teacher/student?! Yes, Shen Yuan understood that things like age difference roleplay in fetish contexts were intriguing, he had read it in other novels, BUT STILL, it wasn't exactly a roleplay!!! One of them still believed his partner was immortal!!!

(... Shen Yuan may have read some summaries of the novel. Very superficially. Many years ago, when it was popular.)

"This Shizun recognizes me, then" Luo Binghe says, and Shen Yuan lets out an undignified horrified shriek.

"OH, NO, NO, I'M NOT YOUR SHIZUN" he moves away as quickly as he can. Luo Binghe, of course, chases after him. "I don't know what happened in your, err, world?, I don't know why you decided to appear here, but I'm not... Not..." And Shen Yuan has no idea how to explain himself. I'm not your, what? Your Shizun, your partner, your... husband?

Shen Yuan feels a chaotic chill run down his spine.

"Maybe not yet" Luo Binghe says, as if it were only natural. As if he hadn’t already opened a FUCKING PORTAL WITH HIS SWORD. Shen Yuan needs to calm down or he’ll hyperventilate. "If this Xiao Shizun meets this Emperor, perhaps this Emperor's story isn't over yet. It's when this one's story ends that Xiao Shizun will become Shizun. However, this Emperor has made sure to come first this time."

Shen Yuan... actually doesn't understand him at all.

"The story…" Shen Yuan hesitates, looking at Luo Binghe. The imposing man looks, well, obviously like a blackened ML icon, but, well. Weird. Powerful. "You... Do you know that you come from a story?"

That's disturbingly weird. Luo Binghe nods.

"This Lord has been informed" he explains simply. "Shizun, a kind Shizun, has informed this Emperor about everything. But Xiao Shizun doesn't have to worry. This Lord will be here, he will prevent Xiao Shizun's death tonight, and Xiao Shizun will come with this Emperor to his world."

Shen Yuan might be starting to get a bit of a migraine. What the... hell? What nonsense? Had interdimensional travel affected the ML's brain?

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Shen Yuan says confusedly. "Isn’t that Shizun your husband? Why do you want to take me with you? Aren't you like, happily married?"

It's Luo Binghe's turn to be confused. Fucking confused, it seemed, judging by his expression.

"From which novel does Xiao Shizun know this Lord?" Luo Binghe asks in an even dangerous tone of voice.

Shen Yuan has no idea what the name is. What he does: he searches for Luo Binghe on the internet and hands the smartphone and the results to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe holds the phone in absolute bewilderment, and as he reads, his expression twists into at least seven different forms of horror.

At least he doesn't break his screen with the black claws. Damn, that would have been horrible.

"This Lord understands," Luo Binghe says, his expression flat and absolutely blank. He gives the smartphone back to him and Shen Yuan quickly takes it back. "This Emperor has been wrong, again. Offering apologies."

Shen Yuan feels a little sorry for the interdimensional traveler who accidentally fell into his apartment. Okay, he hasn't read that danmei novel, but the protagonist's design is GREAT. The man also looks quite... dejected. As if the weight of the world had fallen off his shoulders.

"Oh, all right, it happens to the best too" he says, shrugging. The look Luo Binghe gives him is not reassuring. "Look, ah... I can't cook to save my life, but I ordered some stuffed baos for dinner in a nearby restaurant. They haven't left the kitchen yet, so I can order a couple more of them if you'd like to stay for dinner. It must be exhausting, you know, go through... worlds?"

Luo Binghe continues to look at him with a strange look. In fact, his gaze is getting more and more stranger.

"It would be a pleasure for this Lord" he says, raising both eyebrows. "Can this Lord get your name?"

"Shen Yuan," he says nonchalantly. He returns to his phone, grateful that his baos are still cooking and he can add more to the order. "I'll add more to the order. Err— Lord Luo prefer beef or pork?"

Luo Binghe doesn't reply. Shen Yuan adds one and one. And a few other things. Usually, he's content with a big stuffed bao, but perhaps his, uh, guest will eat more?

"Anything is fine," is Luo Binghe's reply, and Shen Yuan adds an extra order of soup and snacks as well. Ah. His order will take a while, but he hopes it will arrive in time for when the latest chapter of his favorite webnovel is uploaded.

... Although he doubts he'll be able to read it in peace if Luo-fucking-Binghe is still there. Well, he'll read it tonight, when he's already in bed.

"It may take a while" Shen Yuan says, bewildered, not knowing what to do. Ugh. He hates having visits. Does it count as visits if a fictional character basically invaded his property? Shen Yuan isn't going to go into much detail about that. "Eh, Lord Luo could... sit down? Make yourself comfortable? Make yourself at home meanwhile?"

Luo Binghe looks at him with a raised eyebrow. However, he does as Shen Yuan suggests and sits down. Shen Yuan turns his back on him, arranging the chair he knocked over and some of his mess made in the panic of seeing A FUCKING PORTAL OPENS OUT OF NOWHERE, wondering if he's finally gone completely crazy.

But it's there. Luo Binghe for some reason came to his house talking about Shizun and Xiao Shizun and knowing that he was in a story, and Shen Yuan is too confused to ask any questions. He has too many. He needs to sort out his thoughts.

"Shen Yuan looks nervous," Luo Binghe says, saying his name for the first time and almost making Shen Yuan react as if he had been stabbed. It's too much!! What the hell!? "Is this Lord intimidating to him?"

"So much for a, uh, love interest," he says, making an awkward face. "I haven't read the novel where are you from, sorry. I'm not completely familiar with... well, with how your personality can be. But... for arts and some things, I expected less, eh, intimidating, yeah."

He remembered many tears. And something about a lamb. NOT THIS.

Luo Binghe laughs. Incredibly, that's also intimidating.

"If Shen Yuan hasn't read this novel, what novels has he read?" Luo Binghe asks.

... Forty minutes later, as Shen Yuan rushes up to collect dinner from the door, he wonders how good an idea it is to completely infodump Luo Binghe about his current favourite stallion novel, And most of all, about [character], his absolute favorite protagonist. Nobody can't blame Shen Yuan!!! He... Never gets the chance to talk about his favorite things outside of the internet!! And he spoke: about the characters, their developments, he went into great depth about his complaints about the mediocre worldbuilding and the lack of interesting flora and fauna for such a vast cultivation world, but highlighted every good point in the plot. Given the ENORMOUS length of the novel, 40 minutes was just a summary!! Hardly anything!!

While they are having dinner, Luo Binghe insists on seeing [character]. He has a very intense expression when Shen Yuan runs straight to his room and comes back with one of his framed posters. What!? He's a fan, it's totally normal!! [Character] was an absolute power fantasy, a magnificent, admirable character!! Definitely!! It's normal that he has a lot of his posters! And fanmade figures! And commissioned art!! Totally normal!!!

Luo Binghe looks serious as Shen Yuan continues to talk about [character], deepening his tragic backstory, his difficult beginnings, how he had to rise through hatred and prejudice. How he discovered his heritage and power and how he achieved the glory he always deserved!!

And Luo Binghe asks many, many questions. He asks so many questions that, haha, Shen Yuan would think he was considering challenging [character] to a fight. But he- he definitely couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't, right? Well, with an OP sword like that capable of leaving its own reality, who knows!!

Dinner drags on because Shen Yuan talks too much. When it's finally over, he's actually not sure he wants to leave the poor love interest from that danmei novel adrift. Yes, he can go... But Shen Yuan isn't sure he's safe! He still looks very tired! He probably needs a good night's sleep! Besides, he ate too much! Crossing worlds on a full stomach might be bad for him!

Shen Yuan then prepares the guest bed and offers it to him. Usually, his Da-ge or Er-ge usually stays, or his Meimei, so the room is clean and suitable, and only when Shen Yuan is left alone after the long night does he notice that there is an notification that he had been waiting for on his smartphone.

YES! THE UPDATE!! Shen Yuan doesn't even make it to bed. He throws himself onto the sofa and quickly opens the door to read.

... Thirty minutes later, he's choking on rage. WHAT THE HELL? WHAT HAPPY ENDING WAS THAT? THE STALLION PROTAGONIST SIMPLY DECIDING, AFTER A LONG CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ARC OF ANOTHER UNNECESSARY NPC, THAT NOTHING MADE HIM HAPPY? LOCKING HIMSELF IN HIS PALACE AND SINKING WITH IT? WHAT WAS THAT? AND WHY?

Dumbfu—

Shen Yuan catches a glimpse of blue light at the edge of his eye before something catches him, repositioning him so he can breathe deeply without choking on his breath. The thing holding him up is, of course, the only other living thing in his apartment—a danmei character who helps him take a deep breath even with tears in the corners of his eyes, swallowing a little water, making him realize how choked he really had been.

"Is Shen Yuan alright?" Luo Binghe asks.

And all Shen Yuan can say, barely able to breathe on his own, is: "WHAT KIND OF CRAPPY ENDING IS THAT?"

Luo Binghe's gaze does not look surprised.

"Shen Yuan must be very upset" he says, as if this is nothing new. "So angry. Enough to choke on rage."

Shen Yuan pouts a little embarrassed. Oh, well. What does it matter?

"It really is a bad ending" he complains, and tells him.

In the end, Luo Binghe agrees that it's a shitty ending. Luo Binghe proves genuinely interested in hearing Shen Yuan's opinions, but also in providing solutions and arguments. He's a fun person to talk to. They talk about better endings, how the protagonist's emptiness could have been fixed, and how sometimes a single bond could be enough instead of a harem, until Shen Yuan starts yawning.

When Shen Yuan falls asleep that night, for the first time, even surrounded by posters and pictures of his favorite character, he is not thinking of him, but of Luo Binghe.

(In the morning, Shen Yuan will be given a breakfast that Luo Binghe made—the most exquisite thing in the absolute fucking world—and will try to talking about all that other world stuff, about how he had made a mistake again, or Shizun and Xiao Shizun thing. Luo Binghe evades his questions very well and always makes an excuse to stay longer and longer as the days go by, his novel guest basically takes over his kitchen, takes the guest room hostage, and takes the control about the cleanliness and order of the apartment. Shen Yuan worries a little, after all, isn't Luo Binghe very peaceful here away from that husband of his? Didn't the internet say their relationship was very codependent? What is he missing out on there?

... And why does he notice more and more of his favorite character's merch missing every day? Binghe has been cleaning, yes, but why would he take his stuff away!?)

#THIS ENDED UP BEING LONGER THAN I EXPECTED #I had so much fun writing this lol #svsss #svsss ideas #svsss au #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #original luo binghe #shen yuan #bingyuan #binggeyuan #i thought: under what concept in the world would shen yuan not be a fan of luo binghe?#and my mind: if luo binghe were from a danmei novel shen yuan's ass in the closet wouldn't read it. then he wouldn't be a fan of him.#that resulted in THIS #lbg: oh no it's the wrong shizun again :(#sy: *is kind and nice to him*#lbg: ... the search is over #yea shen yuan was going to die that night. and he would transmigrate in that stallion novel.#luo binghe will not let that happen #luo “look may not be your favorite character but can be your favorite person” binghe #shen “don't you have a husband to go back to???” yuan #they'll talk about it. not soon.#would be funny if shen yuan's favorite character was very similar to liu qingge #hehehehehe #long post #veeeery long post

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chaoticwriting · 3 months ago

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YOU ARE MARRIED!!??3

Part 2

It's been a week since Ellie arrived at the manor. All the guests from the night of Ellie's arrival had already returned by that night. And so far, they haven't managed to pry open any more information about their brother-in-law from Ellie that they already didn't know of.

Currently, Ellie is sitting in the living room drawing on her green notebook while eating fruit snacks that Alfred prepares. Cass is watching over her, occasionally asking her what she is drawing.

Except for Cass and Alfred, everyone else is either at work or at school. Suddenly, a portal opens and comes out Cujo with a bag that has Ellie's name on it. So far, Cujo has been delivering Ellie's essential almost everyday for the past week. Whenever Ellie or Cass ask him about Danny, Cujo just shakes his head meaning either he doesn't know or he can't tell them.

Cujo also never stays for long and just jumps away whenever his delivery is done. But to their surprise, Cujo is not alone today. A woman in punk clothing and blue flaming hair follows after Cujo holding a guitar in her hand. Ellie perks up when she sees Ember coming out of the portal.

Ellie: Aunt Ember!

Ember: Hey Ellie. How are you doing? I assume you have been eating well.

Ellie: Yes! Everyone is so nice. Alfred always brings me snacks if I want to and grandpa Bruce buys me a lot of things.

Ember: Good good. I'm just here to say hi and check up on you. Your papa has been worrying a lot since he sent you here.

Ellie: Aunt Ember, when will papa finish his job? I miss him.

Ember: I don't know but for now you stay with your mama, okay? I will tell your papa to deal with his job quicker.

Ellie: Okay. :(

Ember then turns towards Cass and smiles at her.

Ember: Hey Cass. I'm Ember. Danny's friend. Sorry about the late greetings.

Cass: It's fine. About Danny, can I know what his job actually is?

Ember: Errmm, it's not that I don't want to tell. It's just I feel like you should ask him directly since even I don't know what his actual job is. Usually, Clockwork just calls him and off him go to wherever or whenever he sends him.

Cass: I see. But can I know if he is okay?

Ember: As far as I can tell, he is fine. Clockwork hasn't asked any of us for back up yet, so his mission is probably going well.

Suddenly, Bruce enters the living room seeing Ember and Cass talking.

Bruce: Why hello there miss. How can I help you?

Ember: *Stares*

Bruce: Errmm, miss?

Ember: You are that guy that got sent back and forth in time wasn't it? I remember your face from one of Danny's missions.

Bruce: What?

Ember: Yeah. You are Bruce Wayne, right? The Batman.

Bruce: How do you know about me?

Ember: It's not hard when your bestfriend is the one that helps one of his favorite heroes to escape forced time travel.

Bruce: Danny helps me back then?

Ember: Yeah. But at that time, he was mostly chasing after Plasmius. It is a coincidence he met you so he sent you back home first before he continued chasing Plasmius.

Cass: This Plasmius guy, how dangerous is he?

Ember: Ehh, depends on his sanity to be honest. One day, he might come to just fight you, another day he might try to release an interdimensional tyrant from his long slumber. So it's really random.

Cass: And this time?

Ember: Oh did Ellie tell you they are chasing Plasmius? I don't actually know what he is planning this time. Clockwork is being his cryptid ass again and not telling the whole story.

Bruce: Is this Clockwork safe?

Ember: Well, he is okay. I think he adopted Danny at one point so you could call him his adopted parents. But Danny also has real parents so there is that. Overall, he wouldn't allow any significant harm to fall onto Danny or anyone close to him unless he knows that is the best solution possible.

Ember: Oh well, I need to go now. Have a concert to attend to. Bye Ellie.

Ellie: Bye Aunt Ember! Bye Cujo!

Cujo gives out a bark and opens a portal. Both of them enter the portal and disappear from the living room. Bruce has that serious calculating look on his face while Cass just takes everything and processes them. She trusts his husband's judgement. And since she is with Cujo and Danny trusts Cujo, that means whoever Ember is, she is probably a friend.

Bruce goes to his study to enter the Batcave, while Cass and Ellie continue playing in the living room.

-Somewhere else-

A young man with white hair and black and white hazmat suit is flying across an urban city as he chases after a vampire-like older man that is holding a bracelet giving off a green light.

Danny: Give me the bracelet, Plasmius!

Plasmius: You gotta take it from my own hand, little badger!

Danny shoots an ecto beam towards Plasmius as he dodges the attack coming from Danny. Danny being agitated, tries to fly faster but he is already going as fast as he can.

'I wish I could just appear in front of him.'

Suddenly, Danny's vision goes black and when his vision comes again, he sees Plasmius rushing to him. Plasmius is shocked to see Danny suddenly in front of him and tries to maneuver away from him, but at such close distance, there is no way for him to outrun Danny.

Catching his wrist, Danny puts a collar that Clockwork specifically made for Plasmius. Plasmius turns back into a human and if not for Danny holding his wrist, would have fallen down from the sky.

Danny, seeing Plasmius unconscious, processes what just happened. Did he just teleport? How? He doesn't even know how to open a portal. He kind of just wishes it and it happened.

A green portal appears in front of him, cutting off his thoughts. Danny sighs as he doesn't even know what is going on. He should probably return first and ask Clockwork what is happening.

Part 4

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #danny x cass #dc x dp #dead silent #cassandra cain #cass x danny #is this too short?#I feel like I write a lot already but I still feels like this is short.#I will probably write the next one longer

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taeyongdoyoung · 8 months ago

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chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids #chan #writing

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eclipixels · 2 months ago

Note

Anyway chat where ??? Is my kaiser fics?? 😔

LET ME PYO!! YK that one scene where Kaiser is first introduced??

could you write me sum of that scene but like it’s reader sleeping on their shared bed and yk how how he’s walking out from the bathroom to take the call?? Instead of standing there he sits on the bed leaning back on the headboard caressing/twirling readers hair while taking the call?? Maybe a lil blow job at the end idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

Fidelity

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Content: Your relationship with Kaiser, how it began and where it is now

A/N: I hate this bitch so much like he's my biggest op and he's not even real. I hate him the same way AOT fans hate Gabi, I hate him the same way Demon Slayer fans hate Muzan, I hate him the same way Gojo glazers hate Sukuna. I want him DEAD like idgaf ab his tragic backstory. PLEASE come to America you German bitch, trust I got a strap for your ass you pale ass mf ima rip those fuck ass cheap at home kool-aid dyed blue ends from your scalp, you can't use your "soccer kicking" skills out of this the same way you did with those police officers. ON MY MAMA I WILL ROCK HIS SHIT if he was real. UNFORTUNATELY my bestie requested, and I had to deliver so wtvr, this is the content you get from a D1 Kaiser hater. You have been warned. Um anyway, enjoy :P

Warnings: oral sex 🍋

[3,822 words]

It was just another Saturday morning. The sound of Michael's phone ringing jolted you awake, prompting you to grumble and yell at him to pick it up. Still half-asleep, you didn't realize he wasn’t beside you.

You and Michael had been together for a while now. You'd known him since childhood, watching him grow while growing alongside him. It was strange, witnessing the changes in him while navigating your own.

—

"What's your name?" you remember asking when you first met him. He lived a few houses over on your street.

"Michael," he answered, his voice flat, unreadable.

"I'm Y/n," you said, offering a hesitant smile. Most of your friends were girls, it was easier that way. They were usually kind, welcoming, making friendship feel natural. But Michael was different. He carried himself with a quiet detachment, his expression unreadable, his posture stiff as if he wasn’t used to people talking to him. Truth be told, when you first saw him, you had mistaken him for a girl. His hair was long and tangled, matted in a way that suggested neglect rather than style. His clothes hung loosely on his thin frame, worn and slightly oversized. There was something about him that felt off, but you were too young to understand why.

At that age, you didn’t question much. You didn’t ask why his hair looked like that or why he never seemed to smile. You just knew that he was there, and for some reason, you kept talking to him. Maybe it was because he listened, or maybe it was because he never pushed you away.

Your mother was barely present, always chasing the bottom of a bottle or stepping outside for another smoke. Alcohol had its grip on her, and you learned early on that you couldn’t rely on her for much. You spent most days fending for yourself, learning how to navigate the world without guidance. Loneliness was something you had grown accustomed to, but when Michael appeared, that loneliness didn’t feel as suffocating.

You started sticking around him, finding comfort in his silence. He didn’t gossip or giggle over small things. He didn’t ask too many questions. You stuck with him.

Before he met you, Michael spent most of his time on the streets, stealing just to survive. It was all he knew, taking what he needed, keeping his head down, and making it through another day. But after you came into his life, something shifted. For the first time, he felt a strange, unspoken obligation to keep someone else safe. It wasn’t something he fully understood, only that you were his in a way nothing else had ever been.

It was the same feeling he had when he bought that soccer ball—his first real possession, something finally, finally his to keep. You became that too, in a way. Someone he wanted to protect, to hold onto. And so, instead of roaming the streets or lurking in dark alleys, he started spending most of his time with you, in places that were quiet, safe.

It was different with you. Not like how it was when he would eventually meet Ness. Ness was someone he could manipulate, someone who would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. A pawn. A tool. But you were not that. At least, that’s what he seemed to feel. You weren’t something to use, you were something to keep.

While you attended public school like any other kid, Michael had never been enrolled. His father hadn’t bothered. So while you sat in classrooms, listening to lessons and doing assignments, he spent his days stealing, pawning whatever he could to get by. But the moment you came home, he was there. He always made sure to be there.

"Today in class, we spent some time learning about history," you began, your voice carrying a hint of thoughtfulness as you recalled the lesson.

"Hm?" he hummed in response, his interest piqued but his body visibly relaxed. Michael, who had just settled beside you after an intense session of kicking the soccer ball around, tilted his head to look at you.

The two of you were lounging on the soft grass of a nearby public park, the sun casting a warm glow over the open space. He had been experimenting with different techniques, testing his footwork and control before finally deciding he had done enough for now. He then plopped down next to you and made himself comfortable, his head naturally finding its place on your lap, something he had developed into a quiet habit over time.

"Did you know that the last German Kaiser was Wilhelm II, who was a cousin of Russia’s last Tsar, Nicholas II, and Britain’s King George V."

"Oh," Michael hummed, his response quiet, almost absentminded as he rested against you.

"In Russia, there were these people who wanted to change the way the royal family treated everyone, so they got rid of them," you explained, your voice steady but laced with the weight of the lesson.

A revolution, born from the suffering of the abused and mistreated, had taken extreme measures to erase the rulers they held responsible for the devastation of their country. They had believed that by eliminating the monarchy, they could forge a new beginning, a birth of politics free from oppression. But in their pursuit of justice, they got carried away. Soon, the very ideals they had fought for crumbled beneath the weight of their own actions.

Trying to hurt those who have hurt you, it’s easy to get lost in it. Once you rise from being the underdog to someone in power, the very thing you fought against seeps into you. It overwhelms, corrupts. Before you even realize it, you're no different from those you once despised. You start hurting the people around you, repeating the cycle.

You were too young to understand it back then. Human nature—flawed, unpredictable, a subject of endless debate among philosophers for centuries. But you never expected to experience it, though.

Once Michael got arrested, he disappeared from your life for weeks. You weren’t sure when or if you’d see him again and the thought of that hurt. But then, one day, he was standing outside your door.

You were in your room, oblivious to his presence, while your mother was home for once. Unbeknownst to you, he lingered on the doorstep, unmoving. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating. He’d seen you a million times before, yet something about this moment felt different. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened. Maybe it was the fact that he never really knew what to call what you two had. He never really had friends, after all.

Through the thin walls of your house, he could hear the yelling, your mother’s sharp, bitter voice laced with frustration as she blamed you for money problems again. Then a sound that made something inside him snap, the unmistakable clink of a bottle being raised, the threat hanging in the air.

Before he even registered the decision, his body moved on its own. He kicked at the door, once, twice, three times, until it finally gave way. Adrenaline surged through his veins but his face remained void of emotion as he stepped inside.

You were on the floor, frozen in shock at the sight of him.

“Micha?” Your voice wavered.

He didn’t respond, just moved forward, scooping you up effortlessly before carrying you outside.

Your mother barely reacted. She couldn’t care less about you but when she finally turned, her gaze met Michael’s and for the first time, you saw something terrifying. The look he gave her was colder than ice, sharper than a blade. It was the same look of disdain you had only ever seen him reserve for his father.

You didn’t look back. As you walked beside him, your hand held firmly in his, you finally spoke.

“Where have you been?”

Michael kept his eyes forward. “Do you still want to live there?” he asked instead.

You were still only fourteen. Michael had just turned fifteen.

“I don’t really have a choice,” you admitted.

He exhaled, then said, “I think I’m gonna be getting a lot of money soon.” A pause. “You can live with me.”

Your mind raced with a million questions. Where had he been? What did he mean by money? How was that even possible?

But Michael wasn’t someone who explained things with words. He always acted first, letting the truth reveal itself over time. So instead of questioning, you simply nodded.

“Okay.”

He hummed in appreciation.

It wasn’t until later that you learned everything. How he got arrested, what happened to his father, how he had been scouted by a soccer team that saw potential in him. They were training him to become something great, something unstoppable. And with that came money, a future, an escape.

As for you and Michael, you weren’t sure where you stood.

You called it friendship.

One afternoon, he was lying on your lap again. It had become your thing. No matter where you were—whether on your bed, sitting in the park, or on the porch of your old house—Michael would always find his way there, resting his head on your thighs, golden locks spilling over as he closed his eyes with his arms crossed.

That day was no different. Except, this time, it was late, far past the usual hour either of you went to bed. Bastard München had been against the idea of letting you stay in the dorms, but Michael had given them an ultimatum. Either they paid for your necessities too, or he’d find another team. And Michael was a once-in-a-lifetime player, someone they couldn’t afford to lose. So they agreed.

“You asleep?” you asked softly, fingers threading through his hair. It was much silkier now than when you were younger. He was in cleaner clothes, you both were. You had access to things you never had growing up in poverty.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, blue irises peeking up at you through his lashes.

He was quiet. You stared back, taking in the details of his face, memorizing them as if you hadn’t already done so a thousand times. Then, without a word, he lifted his head. His face was suddenly much closer to yours.

You barely had time to react before his lips met yours.

It was untraditional. Your eyes shut immediately, but his remained slightly open, half-lidded, just enough to watch you. He had never done this before. It was foreign to him, but he followed instinct, doing what felt right.

Michael had never thought about kissing you before.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

He pressed his lips more firmly against yours, learning the sensation of your plush lips against his own. He learned that he really liked the way you tasted, a flavor uniquely made just for him.

When he finally pulled back, he studied you, the faintest trace of saliva connecting you before you wiped it away with the back of your hand. Michael’s expression twisted into offense as he licked his own lips instead.

“Why’d you wipe it off?” His voice was laced with mild irritation, almost possessive.

Your face burned. The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Michael, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

The moment you said it, you regretted it. Your cheeks were on fire, and you had no idea what had come over you. Michael stilled, frozen in place as he just stared at you. His hand found yours before his gaze lowered, face thoughtful but expressionless.

“What does love feel like?” He asked after a pause.

You swallowed, gathering your thoughts. “It’s when you feel comfortable and taken care of. When your heart feels at home. When you feel happy.”

Michael was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he settled back into your lap, arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face against you.

“Then, I love you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible before sleep pulled him under.

—

Currently, you are in bed, your body cocooned in the warmth of the blankets. Michael stepped out in his lavish robe, the scent of expensive cologne and the luxury he’d surrounded himself with clinging to him. He picked up his phone, slipping into a conversation about some program in Japan that required Bastard Munchen's assistance.

He was different now. Fame, fortune, and luxury had transformed him. He saw himself as untouchable, sitting on a throne that no one could ever knock him off from. He imagined himself soaring higher than the stars, out of reach.

You saw the change in him. It was evident in the way he treated his teammates, in the way he treated Ness. It was... almost cruel, and it hurt to watch. You didn’t want to believe it. How could your Michael, the boy you had grown up with, become like this? You clung to that small, sweet, innocent part of him that still lingered, that side of him you knew was still there. Maybe you were wrong to believe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. You knew the things he did weren’t right, but when he was with you, he was different. He was still your Michael, the same one you grew up with.

But he had changed. From the underdog, the abused, the mistreated, to becoming corrupt, merciless, and mentally abusive to other people. You wanted to feel sorry for Ness, to wish for things to be different. But your loyalty, your heart, it was with Michael. You were his Kaiserin, and he was your Kaiser. And you would stay loyal to him, even if it meant turning a blind eye to the harm he was causing to others. Even if it meant sacrificing your morals and humanity to do so.

Who was the real Michael? The one with the world, or the one with you? Truth be told, you didn’t care. It was selfish and wrong, but it was the truth. You got to see his good side, the side no one else saw, and in your eyes, that was all that mattered.

“Micha...” You stirred, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He had sat down on the bed, his gaze falling to you. Even though you didn’t think you looked anything special in the morning, he always admired the way you seemed so peaceful.

He placed a hand gently on your back, his fingers tracing soft hearts on your skin. Slowly, they climbed their way up to your head, playing with your hair as if it were the most precious thing to him.

Michael wasn’t the only one who enjoyed resting his head on your lap now. You had started to enjoy it too. You found comfort in it, in the way his warmth and presence seemed to protect you from the world. It was the little things, like taking short naps or simply cuddling, resting your head on his lap, that made you feel safe.

And right now, it felt no different. You inched closer, letting your body relax as you sprawled yourself across his lap. He had grown more muscular over the years. His thighs, once lean, were now firm and strong with muscle, but they were soft when relaxed. It was the perfect place to rest, feeling his warmth and security surround you as you melted into him.

Wrapped in nothing but a robe, Michael was completely exposed underneath, though you were still too sleepy to fully register it. The haze of drowsiness clouded your mind until you felt the subtle shift of his body. Michael let out a low grunt, his muscles tightening in his thighs, flexing under your weight in a way that couldn’t be ignored.

As he looked at you, his eyes were full of desire and desperation. It was a look he reserved for you, an unspoken plea that carried more meaning than any words could. It was his way of silently telling you what he needed, what he craved from you in that moment. He was always one to convey with actions over words.

You undid his robe as he spoke on the phone, your hands finding their way to his hard cock. It was already leaking precum, the clear liquid sticky against his tip. You and him experimented with a bunch of different things over the years, only ever having each other to do it with which is how you found out that you really enjoyed how he reacted to your touch.

Seeing how Michael acts with others vesus you was always something you indulged in. Especially now. How he spoke on the phone to those people while simulatuously just letting you ravish him.

His eyes watched intently as you opened your mouth to let saliva drip onto his dick. He winced as it dribbled down his tip, mixing with the precum already there. You looked up at him all innocently through your lashes, sticking your tongue out before swallowing him whole. For a moment, Michael froze, the line on the other end repeating his name to make sure he was still there.

“I’ll make them get on their knees.” Michael spoke seductively, almost as if the message was more for you than them. He tilted your chin up away from his dick, almost passing out at the sight when he got a full view of your pretty mouth that was full of cock.

He gestured toward the floor, a silent command that you knew all too well. Without hesitation, you slipped off the bed, your movements smooth as you sank to your knees. The thick, plush rug Michael had insisted on for your shared bedroom was surprisingly soft beneath you, its texture a welcome contrast to the coolness of the floor. You settled into it, the softness making the position more comfortable as you situated yourself before him.

Michael continued on the phone, getting details about where they’d be staying, just general information. You didn’t listen in much on the conversation, instead choosing to focus on your boyfriend’s warm cock buried in the back of your throat. Kaiser loved the natural sounds it made whenever he fucked you, whether it was your cunt or your mouth, the noises drove him feral.

He liked having you on your knees, it allowed easy control on what was happening to him from both you and himself. He could fuck himself into your mouth if he wanted to and you could grip his thighs and suck the soul out of him if you wanted to, which is exactly what you were doing.

His hair feathered along this forehead as he tossed his head back, feeling a pressure build inside of him as you continued slurping and sucking him. His free hand was tangled into your hair, gathering the strands into a make-shift ponytail. Tears brimmed your eyes from having your jaw open for so long but you didn’t really mind. You liked doing this with him, you loved the feeling of his cock in your mouth, you loved it when he painted your throat white, you loved him.

“Shit—” He cursed, trying to keep his voice steady on the line. He hoped the person on the other end of the line didn’t hear him. The person didn’t mention anything about it so he assumed he was in the clear.

Michael was a man of endurance, but when it came to you, he unravelled almost instantly, even if he didn’t want to. That being said, fuck, it was getting hard to hold in his noises of pleasure as you gave him a really good blow job.

“Just text me the rest of the information.” Michael sighed before hanging the phone up. Bastard Munchen had long been accustomed to his attitude. He tossed the phone carelessly onto the bed, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief. Now, finally, he could focus on you completely, giving you his full, undivided attention without any distractions.

“You have any idea how pretty you look right now?” He murmured, his hand finding its way to the soft curve of your jaw. His thumb rubbed over your cheek, wiping away the tears that clung to your lashes. You only smiled in response, continuing to work on him, using things he liked to get him closer.

“G’na come in your mouth, my sweet little rose” Kaiser exhaled sharply, “You’re gonna swallow it right? Every last drop?”

You nodded in response, your eyelids growing heavier as you lost yourself in your task.

“Such a good fucking girl for me, always are.” He groaned, behaving almost primal. When Michael got close, he usually took the lead, allowing himself to rock back and forth in your mouth and you let him. Both his hands were now holding your face, careful to not hurt you as he used your throat to bring him close to his orgasm.

“Fuck! Ah…hah—” Michael smiled as he felt the knot in him come undone, allowing thick ropes of warm cum to land themselves deep down your throat. He was pressed up so deep against your face, your nose brushing up against the cute tattoo of your initials he got on his v-line.

Your cheeks were hollow to provide extra suction as cum filled your mouth. You enjoyed the sensation and salty flavor it provided. He slowed down his pace, revelling in the feeling of your hot tongue swirling his shaft as you waited for him to pull out.

Finally, Michael pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Look at me.” He commanded, and you obeyed, watching as he analzyed your face. He loved seeing you like this, you looked so utterly his. Michael remained silent, his chest rising and falling at a more steady rate now. He needed to look at your face, searching to see what you were feeling at the moment.

Michael wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly how you saw him, how deeply you felt for him, despite everything. He also knew that who he had become wasn’t necessarily right. But he couldn’t change the way his past had shaped him, molding him into something hardened, something fractured. While you had taken your pain and turned it into empathy, breaking the cycle, he had done the opposite, repeating it, embodying the very thing he resents.

And yet, with you, he felt freed from it all. You’ve stayed with him throughout everything.

"Love you," he murmured, his voice softer than usual as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. This was his way of reassuring you that despite everything, he still loved you. And just as much, it was his way of gauging your reaction, making sure he hadn’t been too harsh with you.

You only smiled, offering him the answer he sought without words.

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madebycloud · 3 months ago

Text

If you want to, only if you want to

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: when your ex girlfriend thought you'd move on with another woman, she tried to ruin your "date." (request from @Snow0Knight0 on ao3) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, ex lovers, valentines, amusement park date, mordern au, jealous!jinx, isha's sister!reader, bible terms ig as a metaphors, pov switch words: 9.7k notes: kinda ooc jinx cz i think she'll go on a rampage if she's jealous 🤷‍♀️

You sit on a park bench, watching your little sister play with Jinx. Isha chases after Jinx in circles around the park while Jinx hides behind trees. You see Jinx pop her head out from behind a tree and make faces at your sister before ducking back behind the trunk. Isha giggles, then keeps running after her.

Your little sister can't wait to see Jinx again. After all, they had so much fun the last time they played together. But things aren't the same anymore because you and Jinx are no longer together. Though you can't say no to your little sister, so here you are.

Isha keeps on after Jinx, her legs running as fast as they can go. Jinx grins and sticks her tongue out as she runs backward. “You gotta keep up, kiddo!”

You pull out your phone to film your little sister. But right before you hit record, your phone starts ringing. It's your boss.

You look down at your phone screen, then back up at your little sister. She's still chasing after Jinx, giggling the whole time. You hesitate, then swipe to answer the call.

—

“Yeah, I'm free next week.”

Jinx stops running, suddenly curious about your conversation. She slows down and looks over your way, trying to hear what you're saying.

Isha looks confused, her face scrunched up in a frown. She glances up at Jinx, then back to you.

“Okay, I'll see you next Friday then.”

Next friday? As in on valentine's day? Why are you making plans with someone else on one of the biggest couples holidays there is?

Jinx narrows her eyes at you. She can see the phone up to your ear. Who are you talking to? why are you planning to do something with someone else on valentine's day?

Isha tugs at Jinx's hand, wanting to continue playing. But Jinx is too preoccupied to pay attention to your little sister right now.

Jinx turns to Isha, her attention still partly on you. She squints her eyes. “Hey, listen, kiddo.”

Isha cocks her head to the side, curious why Jinx isn't playing with her anymore.

Jinx lowers her voice to a hush and whispers so that only Isha can hear. “Do you know if your sister already has a girlfriend or something?”

Isha just shrugs. She doesn't know. She doesn't really care about her sister's love life, at least not as much as Jinx does. Though she remembers you and Jinx dating, and she knows you've broken up. But all that matters now is that she plays with her favorite people, like you and Jinx.

Jinx frowns, not happy with the lack of answer she's getting from your little sister.

She's not mad... at least, not right now. She's still not sure if the person you were talking to was a girl or not, or if you two really had something going on for you to make such plans. But the thought of you spending that day with anyone but her is bothering her.

To be clear, Jinx isn't like… jealous or anything. She's just curious. Yeah, just curious. To know why you're talking to someone on the phone and what they want with you, specifically on a day like that.

Still, Jinx tries to shrug it off. You do have your own life. You're not together anymore.

She doesn't care. She doesn't care if you spend a stupid holiday with someone. She doesn't even care that you two aren't together anymore. You have every right to make plans with someone else. She can't be mad... nope, definitely not mad at all.

She looks down at your sister, who's still standing there, staring up at her expectantly. She remembers that she's supposed to be playing with her.

Jinx tries to smile at your little sister. It's forced, though. She decides to put her focus back on the kid in front of her. She can't spend her time worrying or getting upset over you and your weird phone call. Nah, it's better to focus on the little one in front of her. Playing with her is much better than worrying about you. Definitely.

“So…” Jinx starts. “Still wanna play tag?”

—

A few days later, Jinx still can't shake the thought. She knows she shouldn't care... but that doesn't stop the thought from being there. That doesn't stop it from thinking about you with someone else.

She needs to know who you're seeing. She needs to know who you're going to spend Valentine's day with.

So, she keeps trying to get more information from your little sister, whenever and however she can.

One day, Jinx finally gets the information she's been looking for.

And now, she's standing outside a cafe. Jinx sees you through the window, talking to someone. She watches as you laugh at something this woman says. She can't see who it is. She can't hear whatever the conversation you're having. But she can see you laughing, and that... that makes her stomach churn.

She's seen you happy before. But there's just something about the way you're laughing with this woman. It's making her feel... something.

Wait.

Is she jealous?

No, that's just stupid. She just wants to know who you're talking with. Yup. That's all. She just wants to know who you're seeing. She's not jealous.

Jinx steps inside the cafe, the bell above the door jingling. Her eyes are locked on you, not even twitching an inch. She's so focused on you that she's not even paying attention to anything else. Not even the barista trying to ask her what she wants to order.

“Um... ma'am?” the barista tries again.

Jinx finally snaps out of it, turning her attention toward the barista. She realizes that she probably looked weird, just staring at you like that.

She blinks once, twice, before she answers. “Uh…” She looks back at you, and then back at the barista. “Oh... um... yeah. Can I get a…” Jinx looks at the menu. “A caramel mocha, or something…”

The barista nods, not minding Jinx's sudden zoning out. “Sure thing. And just so you know-” they continue, as they start preparing her order. “We have a discount for couples, especially since it's Valentine's today.”

Oh?

Jinx's eyes dart back to you, and she starts to put two and two together. Couples? Discount? Does that mean you and that woman are…

—

“Hahaha… yeah.” You force out a laugh, feeling awkward. Free food. Yeah, free food is good.

You don't have work today, thanks to your boss who's sitting in front of you.

Spending Valentine's day with your boss of all people and…

Ugh.

It's not a date. It's just a meeting. Just a meeting that your boss decided to have on valentine's day.

You're sitting across from your boss, forcing out a laugh as she talks about… about-

Wait. What was she talking about? you were too busy thinking about the fact that you were in a valentine's meeting with your boss that you didn't pay attention to the actual conversation.

“I must say,” your boss chimes in with a smile, taking a sip of her coffee. “I'm quite impressed with your recent work.”

You force a smile back. “Oh, um… thank you, ma'am.”

Your boss nods. “In fact-” your boss continues, but their voice starts to fade out. Why? Because…

Your attention suddenly drifts towards the door. The bell jingles as someone new walks in.

You're not sure why... but you feel the sudden urge to look at whoever has just walked in. Is it... is it a feeling? a weird feeling?

“Promotion”

What?

Did you just hear your boss say... promotion?

The noise in the cafe suddenly dies out. You're no longer listening to the sound of coffee being brewed, or the barista taking orders, or the hum of conversation.

Your focus is on the one word you just heard.

Promotion.

“Promotion?” you repeat. As in, a pay raise. As in, even more responsibilities. As in-

“Yes.” She puts her coffee down. “You've been an excellent employee. You're diligent, focused, and always go the extra mile.”

Just before she can get another word out, something happens. Just when everything seems to be going right with those precious words “promotion,” something just HAS to happen.

Accidents happen, right?

Except this one is a really big accident.

Because some idiot accidentally spilled a hot, caramel mocha with a mountain of whipped cream all over your boss's shirt.

“What the-” your boss's eyes widen when she sees the ruined blouse that she's wearing. “Who on earth-”

“Oh god. I'm so, so sorry.” The idiot who caused this whole mess apologizes, stepping closer to your boss.

Wait-

There's something about that voice...

Why does it sound so familiar?

Your head turns slowly toward the source of the voice.

Your ex.

Jinx.

JINX?!

What is she doing here?!

“Again, I'm so sorry.” Jinx repeats herself as she tries to fix the mess, grabbing some napkins from the table and using them to soak up the mess on your boss's shirt. “I didn't mean to-” Her head suddenly turns in your direction.

Why is she... why is she here? she already spent time with your little sister last week, what could she possibly want-

“Oh-” your boss interrupts, noticing the way Jinx looks at you, or the way you're looking at Jinx. “You two... know each other?”

Shit.

This is going to be awkward.

“Uh…” You look over at Jinx. She's still staring at you with that look on her face. Why does she look like that? Is she trying to tell you something? “We're just old friends.”

You cringe at the words. Friends isn't the right word to use, but you know you had to say something. You couldn't just say, “Oh yeah, she's my ex and I don't know what the hell she's doing here.” There's no way you're saying that in front of your boss.

Then you notice the way Jinx clenches her jaw, just subtly. You know that look on her face. The one where she's trying to hold something back. Not that she's going to explode or anything, it's just... the expression tells you that she has something to say.

And she looks pissed.

Why is she pissed? You didn't say anything wrong. You aren't together anymore, right? So shouldn't everything be fine?

But that doesn't matter now because you have bigger problems to deal with. Like how Jinx just spilled a freshly brewed, steaming hot coffee full of sugar and cream all over your boss's blouse.

“Yep.” Jinx affirms with a nod. “We're just old, good friends.”

Your boss looks between the two of you. Then, she takes a napkin and dabs some of the excess, creamy liquid off.

You stand there, waiting for the moment when your boss will explode. That she'll get extremely mad at the woman who has just ruined her blouse (which cost probably double of your salary) and demand compensation.

But-

Your boss just sighs.

“How... unfortunate.” She murmurs, looking down at her blouse.

That's it?

Why isn't she asking for compensation? or demanding an apology? or an explanation? or whatever else one would demand in this kind of situation?

“Don't worry about it.” Your boss reassures. “It was just an unfortunate accident.” She smiles at Jinx and then places the stained, crumpled up napkin onto the table. “I'm just... out of luck, because I don't have a spare blouse to change.”

—

Jinx didn't expect that.

She thought she'd get chewed out by your ‘girlfriend’ for ruining her expensive shirt, have to pay for it, or something similar. But instead, she just walked over to the shop across the street, picked out an expensive replacement for the ruined shirt, paid for it, and then went into the changing room to try it on.

Now, you and Jinx are just sitting next to each other on a white leather couch, close enough that your thighs almost brush, but far enough that you have enough space to not actually touch.

Her foot is tapping impatiently against the tiled floor. She's staring at the side of your head, trying to catch your attention. Your eyes are glued on a random painting on the wall across from the couch.

It's quiet and uncomfortable.

She remembers how many times in the past you and her would sit on a couch like this. In her place, in your place, it didn't matter.

She'd be snuggled up next to you, sitting on your lap, and you'd have an arm around her waist, or she'd place your hand on her thigh, or her hand on the back of your neck, or she would be playing with your hair.

But now, she's keeping both hands to herself, and it feels... wrong. Like something is missing.

“So…” Jinx drawls, the tapping of her foot stops. “You and your d-” She barely gets the word out before you interrupt her.

“What are you doing here-” you turn to face her, and the words just kind of blurt out of you, “-I mean, why are you-”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? I was at the cafe.”

“Why were you in the cafe?”

“What?”

“Did you know that I was going to be there?”

“No,” she lies. “Why do you think I went to the cafe? Do you think I'm stalking you or something?”

“Are you?”

“What?!” Jinx throws her hands up in frustration. “Since when do I stalk people?”

You give her a look, one that says, ‘really?’

“Don't look at me like that! I've never stalked anyone in my life. Ever.” She huffs. “I was just... doing my own thing. I just happened to be there. In the same place. At the same time. That's all. A coincidence.” Jinx pauses, realizing her own words, how it sounds, and how she sounded. She then looks at you, eyes tracing over your face, before she suddenly looks away. “Anyway,” she says, “you and that woman... are you two a thing?” she asks, trying to change the topic.

“Why do you care?”

Why does she care?

She doesn't.

She shouldn't.

She can't care.

She has no right to care.

She left you. She pushed you away. She can't care anymore, because that would make her a hypocrite, to push you away but care for you at the same time.

She's supposed to be moving on. That's what she was supposed to do.

But why does she still feel like this?

Why does her heart ache? Why does it ache because she's sitting right next to you, and she can't do anything but keep her hands to herself? Why does it ache because your shoulders are only an inch away from touching? Why can't you just touch each other again? Why do just a few inches feel so... lonely?

She's supposed to be over you. It's been months.

Months!

She doesn't understand why she still feels this way. She tries to date other people, but none of them compare to you.

And that's not fair.

It's not fair because she keeps comparing everything about them to how you used to be.

She compares the color of their outfit to yours, she compares the way they walk to yours, she compares the sound of their voice to yours.

Her mind keeps finding little things in them that remind her of you.

How their hands feel too rough. How their smiles are too forced. How their eyes never lit up like yours did. How their hugs didn't feel right. How they never seemed to get her the way you did.

It's all wrong.

Because they're not you. No one could compare to you.

She tries to convince herself that she's over you, that she doesn't care, that she doesn't miss you. That the fact that you've found someone else shouldn't bother her at all, that she's totally fine with the fact that you've clearly given your attention to someone else. That she has no right to be jealous, no right to be like this.

So she repeats the same thing she's been telling herself for months.

“I don't care,” she lies to herself and lies to you. Her eyes darts to your hand, close enough for her to take if she reached out her own hand. “It doesn't bother me.”

“Of course it doesn't.” You scoff. “It has nothing to do with you.”

It has something to do with her.

Before she can say anything else, the changing room door opens, and the woman walks out wearing a new black and white blouse.

“Ah, much better.” The woman looks at herself, smoothing out the wrinkles on the fabric. She turns her attention to you. “What do you think?” She smiles. “Looks better, doesn't it?”

Jinx glares at her. That woman looks dumb in the stupid white and black blouse, which somehow manages to look cheaper than the previous blouse even though it probably cost more.

“Yeah.” You force yourself to look away from Jinx, standing up from the couch. “It looks good.”

Jinx grinds her teeth, standing up as well. The way you speak to her like that, it... annoys her. It makes her want to do something petty.

“Glad you think so,” she continues, adjusting the collar. “At least this is presentable. Unlike my previous blouse, which is now... coffee-stained.”

Jinx smirks at that. But her smirk quickly disappears when the woman turns to look at her.

“Speaking of that,” the woman says, her eyes locking onto Jinx. “I don't believe we've had a proper introduction. I'm Cassandra. Cassandra Kiramman. What's your name?”

“Uh…”

“Don't be shy,” she says, in a tone that could be perceived the wrong way, and it grates on Jinx's already thin temper. “I just thought we should greet each other properly, especially after the… earlier accident.”

“Jinx,” she replies. “Just Jinx.”

“Jinx,” the woman repeats. “Interesting name.”

“Better than your boring name,” Jinx mutters.

You elbow her side. Jinx holds back a grimace.

“What was that?” The woman's brow quirks.

“Nothing,” Jinx lies. “Just…” She looks down at the woman's designer heels. “I was just admiring your heels.”

“Oh.” The woman looks down at her heels as well, raising one foot up to show them off. “I got them at the same store I bought this outfit.”

Jinx snorts. “Cheap.”

The woman either doesn't hear what Jinx just said or she just ignores it. Instead, she holds out her hand, and Jinx stares down at it.

“It's nice to meet you, Jinx,” the woman says, still holding out her hand. “I hope we-”

You nudge Jinx. “Be nice,” you whisper.

Jinx scoffs but begrudgingly reaches out and grips the woman's hand. “Likewise.” She forces a smile onto her face.

The woman's hand feels too soft. Jinx could break her with her bare hands if she wants to. Which she is very much considering.

“I'm glad that's settled then.” She lets go of Jinx's hand, and Jinx wipes it on her pants, trying to rid that weird feeling off her skin. Everything about her just makes her sick. Even her name, Cassandra, makes her want to hurl.

The woman starts to walk towards the counter. “I'll just... go pay for this.”

“Sure.” You say, watching her walk away.

—

After your boss pays for her overpriced blouse at the register, she pulls you outside, away from Jinx, who stands several feet away. Jinx can see you talking to her, but she can't hear what you're saying.

“About that promotion…” your boss starts. “Your name is still in the running for consideration, however, we're still going to be discussing it before making any final decisions.”

“Since my name was mentioned?” you repeat, “so there are already some possible employees they're considering?”

“Yes,” she says, looking at you with a stern and serious face. “The only problem being…”

“...being?” you prompt.

“How do I put this?” Your boss clears her throat. “Your performance has been excellent, to say the least. You've always exceeded our expectations and more, and your skills have certainly improved over the years.”

Your confidence rises a bit. “But?”

“But,” your boss continues, “the decision isn't solely based on your performance.”

“How so?” you probe. “It's always based on performance, right?”

“Not in this case,” your boss explains. “In regard to the promotion, the decision is up to the board members.”

The board members? Up until this point, you had assumed that the decision was made by the managers, but you guess it makes sense, since you're dealing with a large company.

“You mean the... big guys? The ones who are…”

“Rich, wealthy, snobby?” Your boss completes your sentence for you. Smirk forms on her lips, as if the board annoys her as well.

“Ahh... and that could be bad…?”

Your boss pauses for a moment, then, “...yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the board is a bit finicky.” She sighs. “They're not one to make decisions easily, and they've always had this... habit of arguing over even the most trivial affairs.”

“So… it’s not looking good for me then?”

“Don't say that,” your boss says. “It's not looking terrible for you.”

“I see.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “Wait, does that mean I have to impress the board members?”

“Yes, that's exactly it.” Your boss agrees. “The members are picky, so to speak.”

Figures. Of course the rich assholes are picky bastards.

Your boss gives your shoulders a reassuring pat before returning her hand to her side. “Just-” she glances over your shoulder towards Jinx, “-try not to worry about it, alright? It's out of your control.”

Jinx continues to glare at the woman. Your boss leans in to whisper, “Your friend-” she nods at Jinx “-doesn't seem to like me very much.”

You follow her gaze.

Jinx notices the two of you staring and suddenly finds great interest in a nearby pigeon pecking at the ground.

“Yeah…” you reply, laughing nervously.

Your boss chuckles, turning to you again. “Anyway, I've got to run. But don't bother coming to work today. You have the day off so-” She gives you a smile and glances towards Jinx, “-spend the rest of your Valentine's day... with her.”

“Oh no, we're not-”

“Don't give me that.” She cuts you off. “I'm not naive, okay? I'm not stupid. I know you two are a thing. It's obvious.”

“Was.” You correct her.

Your boss doesn't seem to care much about the correction. She doesn't react at all. No surprise, no shock, no disappointment. “Was, is, who cares?”

Huh. What is this woman talking about? “Excuse me?”

Your boss ignores your confused look. “The point is, the two of you have something. Something that still hasn't faded.” She motions at Jinx, who's still busy watching a pigeon pick at some bread crumbs on the ground. “I'd better get going. Take the day off for yourself. And…” She gives you a knowing look. “Figure things out.”

With that, your boss turns around and waves to you before walking away. You watch her go, dumbfounded and confused. Is she right? Does Jinx still have feelings for you?

—

Jinx hates the way the woman pulls you outside, she hates the way the woman lays her hand on your shoulder, she hates the way the woman leans into you to whisper something that Jinx hates because she couldn't hear what the two of you were talking about. When the two of you catch her looking, she suddenly looks away.

She hears you laugh. It's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard, but it's the fact that you're laughing with someone else that pisses her off.

She focuses her attention on the bird pecking at the ground.

That's right.

Focus on the bird, not the sound of your laughter. Ignore the way the woman keeps her hand on your shoulder. Don't pay any attention to the way the two of you are talking.

Just focus on the bird. Nothing but the bird.

She could turn and leave right now if she wanted to. Nobody's forcing her to stay. She doesn't even know why she stuck around and followed you and the woman into this shop in the first place. But she wants to stay. She wants to stay because you're here. Because of you.

This is ridiculous.

It's none of her business. You two aren't together anymore. You're not her responsibility. You're not her issue to deal with. She's free to do whatever and whoever she wants.

She hears footsteps getting closer to her, and she turns her head to see you coming over. She looks around, noticing the woman is gone.

“Did you bid your farewells to your girlfriend yet?” she asks curtly.

“She's not my girlfriend,” you reply, walking to her side.

“Oh…” She turns back to the pigeon but finds it has flown away, leaving a few bread crumbs on the ground. She's left with nothing to focus her attention on aside from you. “Then what is she?”

It's a stupid question, but she asks it anyway. It's not like she's entitled to your intimate details.

“She's just my boss.”

She lets out a sigh. Is it a sigh of relief? Maybe.

“You know… you've been glaring at me the whole time,” you continue.

She snorts. “That's just because your face is irritating to look at, nothing else."

“Oh, I'm sure that's the only reason.”

No, it's not just the only reason.

“So what is it then, huh?” she asks, irritated. “Is she flirting with you?”

“No.”

“She laid her hand on your shoulder, didn't she?”

“Is that what you're worked up about? That she laid her hand on my shoulder?”

“Why did she do that anyways?”

“It's no big deal, she's just-”

Jinx interrupts you. “Why did she do it? what compelled her to touch you like that? It's not very appropriate for your boss to be physically affectionate towards you.”

“Since when were you a stickler for rules and appropriate conduct?”

“I'm not.”

“Then why are you so worked up about a simple touch?”

“Because it's not just a simple touch.”

“What? So now you're the authority on what a simple touch looks like?”

“I know a lust driven touch when I see one.”

“Lust driven? What are you, insane?”

“I'm not insane,” Jinx grumbles. “I know the difference between an innocent touch and a not-so-innocent touch.”

“Not-so-innocent? Seriously, Jinx. What are you—do you think my boss has a thing for me?”

“Don't be dense. It's obvious that she has the hots for you.”

“Jinx, she's married. Didn't you see that ring on her finger?”

That makes Jinx pause.

A ring?

Huh... she didn't notice it.

Had she really been so focused on you that she hadn't noticed?

“And married people can't want anyone else? you'd be pretty blind if you think married people can't have crushes, or feelings, or affairs... oh god, is she having an affair with you?”

“What?! No, she's not-” You facepalm. “What in the world would make you think that my boss, who's happily married by the way, would be cheating on her husband with me? That's fucking insane!” You pause, suddenly realizing something. “...wait a minute?”

“What?”

“Earlier today... the spilled drink. That was on purpose, wasn't it?!”

She remains silent.

“You're jealous,” you state.

“What? Jealous? That's bullshit.” Her face heats up. She's a terrible liar, isn't she?

“Then why are you so bothered by the fact that my boss-”

“Because you're mine!”

And there it is. This is what she wanted to hide. Her jealousy, her possessiveness, her attachment to you.

The words slip out before she can even think, and they're so loud and so clear that anyone within a few meters could've heard them. There was no plan, no filter, no hesitation. Just the words that spill out from her mouth before her brain could catch up.

What is she even saying? You're not hers. Why did she say that? She didn't mean it. She has to backtrack, change the subject, anything, just don't look like a blubbering idiot.

“I'm-” She turns away from you. “You're-” She covers her face with her hands and groans.

How pathetic.

Why did she just say that?!

She'll just laugh it off, right? Just say haha, kidding, no hard feelings, we can be friends... right?!

You rub your forehead and shake your head. “Jinx... even if my boss had any feelings for me, which she doesn't, but even if she did-”

The thought of you being with anyone else is driving Jinx completely crazy.

She can't bear to even imagine the thought of you being with someone else or your boss. She's already picturing it in her mind, the both of you together, laughing, smiling, happy, while you're wrapped around your boss like a dog. Your boss is so rich and successful and could provide you with everything you could ever want. And what could Jinx offer you?

Jinx turns to you, dropping her hand from her face. “Why WOULDN'T you be interested in her? She's got it all, for fuck's sake! She's pretty, she's nice, she's independent, she's successful… she's everything any guy or girl would want. What's not to like?”

“Because she's not you!”

“Pfft! Of course she's not me!” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “She's got everything going for her. She's put together, mature, not a total mess-” her mind goes blank when she realizes what you'd said. “...wait. What did you say?”

“She's not you.”

Jinx opens her mouth to argue, then suddenly closes it. She looks away, biting her lip, refusing to look at whatever expression you have right now.

Why?

You shouldn't have said that. You shouldn't have said something like that.

Don't you realize this is only going to make things harder... and better?

—

Jinx isn't saying anything. You both are just... standing there in silence. People are passing by, couples holding hands, friends laughing and talking.

Your boss' words are still ringing in your ear. Figure things out.

You glance to the side, at the brick wall, and at the clock on the building. The second hand is ticking away. “We still have time,” you say, and you feel Jinx look at you.

“Time for what?”

“My sister isn't out of school yet, so…” You clear your throat. “I heard there's a new amusement park that just opened up nearby. Would you…”

Would you like to be my valentine? The words hang in your head, and your mouth refuses to say them. You just want to see if it's still there. If the connection you felt before is still present. If the feelings she had for you remain.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“...huh? Like, right now?”

“Er-” you sputter, “ONLY IF YOU WANT TO-” you add hastily. “I… I mean, if you're free-” You look down, shifting awkwardly. “If you're not-”

“I am!” she blurts out.

Okay, she agreed.

Wait, what?

Your head whips back up, eyes wide as you blink at her in silence.

“No, I-I mean, yes, I'm free,” Jinx clarifies.

“Are you sure?” you ask, “I only mean if you want-”

“Yes!” Jinx blurts out again, then clamps a hand over her mouth with a muttered ‘fuck’ when she realizes how eager she sounds.

You both just stand there awkwardly, staring at each other, before Jinx snaps herself out of her nervousness, eyes hardening as she puts on a confident smile. “Well,” she quips. “Lead the way.”

—

“Watch this.”

Jinx grips the fake pistol, a grin spread across her face. She lines up her shot, and-

BANG!

The target falls.

BANG!

Another falls.

BANG!

And another.

The park staff watch in shock at the girl's accuracy, while passersby stop to watch the impressive display of skill.

“Hell yeaaahh!” she crows, spinning the toy gun around her finger. “That's how it's done, baby!”

A group of teenagers watches her, chanting “MVP” and “QUEEN!”

Jinx shrugs, twirling the gun around. She hands the toy gun back to the staff and looks up above to choose a prize. “Hmmm... hmm... that one.” She points up to a giant stuffed pink shark, and the worker sighs.

“That-” they start before Jinx interrupts them.

“Yeah, I want the giant shark.”

The worker sighs heavier and takes the shark down, reluctantly handing it over to Jinx.

Giggling, she throws her prize towards you, and you awkwardly catch the gigantic stuffed animal under one arm.

“What-” you ask as she walks away. “Where are we going now?”

“Ooh! Let's go to that!” She points to the twisted rollercoaster as you struggle to keep pace with her.

The roller coaster looks like torture, and the line is so freaking long you could fall asleep while waiting.

“Can't we go on something... calmer?”

—

“I'm not so sure about this…” you hesitantly say as you're forced to sit next to Jinx in the roller coaster, her thigh touching yours since the seat is so damn small.

You try to fit the giant shark between you, and by some miracle, you manage to cram the stuffed toy in the already crowded space.

The staff comes to make sure everyone is buckled up and stops when they see the giant pink stuffed shark squished awkwardly between you two. “That uhhh... needs to be placed there.” They point over to a shelf where they take any extra luggage/belongings.

You and Jinx both turn around to look at the shelf, then back at the ride worker.

“Oh, right.” You nod and pick up the giant stuffed animal, handing it to the staff.

“Don't lose it-” Jinx warns them.

“Yeah, yeah, we won't,” the staff says, putting it on the shelf.

The bars come down and latch you in.

“Alright-” one of the staff says, “The ride is about to start!”

You look at Jinx, and she looks back at you. “Ready?” she asks, grinning.

“Uh, Ahahaha… sure.”

The staff member comes around one last time and checks to see if you're strapped in correctly. “All right-” they say. “Here we go-”

You gulp, swallowing nervously. You'd rather take on a bullet than ride this metal atrocity, but you're stuck with Jinx.

The ride starts moving, making the clicking sound as it's being lifted upwards to the very top of the coaster.

The ride climbs up to the top, and your nervousness only starts to increase as the rollercoaster continues to climb higher and higher. When it finally reaches the top, it suddenly stops moving, probably to give a few minutes for those to take pictures.

“Hey, look!” Jinx points to the view of the amusement park below the two of you. “We're so high up!”

“I just want to say…” you start, “that I ate the cake you put in the fridge last yea- AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.”

The roller coaster suddenly drops, and the two of you are sent flying down at a high speed.

“OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD-” you scream over the roar of the coaster. Your screams are mixed in with the screams of everyone else.

“WOOOOOOO!” she yells, raising both of her arms in the air. “FUCK YEAAAHH!!”

The roller coaster does a series of sharp turns, drops, twists, and loops that completely mess with your perspective and gravity.

You feel like your stomach is somewhere in your thighs as the ride twists and turns around at breakneck speeds. “HOLY SHIT I CAN FEEL THE SKIN COMING OFF OF MY FACE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

Jinx, on the other hand-

“IT'S SO FAST! FASTER FASTER FASTER!”

This is it. This is how you die.

—

…you somehow survived the roller coaster, but you're not so sure if your soul has left your body.

After the first roller coaster ride, you decided to take it easy on yourself and went on the carousel, but Jinx was having none of it and pulled you onto the next wild ride. And the next. And the next…

Eventually, you get your hands on the picture captured during the roller coaster.

Jinx laughs and stares at the picture before sticking it into her pocket. “You should see your face.” She giggles as you pass a few other people.

She's currently holding the giant shark stuffie in her arms as the two of you walk around, looking for something else to do.

You've done just about everything except for the log ride and there's no way you're going on that.

You're walking aimlessly through the park when you notice Jinx's pace starts to slow down, trailing behind you.

“Hey?” You turn around to look at her. “What's wrong?”

She's already looking up at the sky. “Do you want to try the ferris wheel?”

—

notes: i would 100% recommend listening to “come here” by kath bloom since this scene (and what happens afterwards) is inspired by the movie before sunrise

You sit in the ferris wheel, side by side. The ride starts moving, slowly bringing the two of you up higher and higher.

You stare out the window to your left, watching the world get farther and farther away as the cabin rises up.

The giant pink shark sits across from the two of you. You like this. Just you and her and the shark.

You feel her side pressed against yours, and you're unable to concentrate on anything besides that. She also looks unable to sit still because she's constantly shifting in her seat.

You sneak a glance at her and see her looking at the window as well. She notices you staring and turns her head to look at you. Suddenly, your eyes meet—you note the color of her irises. An artist might have trouble replicating them, but you think yours could do a pretty good job.

...and just like that, she looks away. Back to the window, finding something interesting to stare at on her side of the cabin.

It gives you a good opportunity to look your fill.

But then she looks back at you, and you look away. Your lips twitch into a faint smile before you quickly purse them together.

You feel her knee brush yours, just gently, like someone walking past you in a crowded room. Except this isn't an accident.

You turn your focus back outside the window, admiring the view. You see the top of the roller coaster you were just on, the carousel, and so many other places you've been today.

But your attention soon drifts to your right side and—oh. She's staring at you again.

Her eyes trace up the side of your head. Over your hair, around your ear…

…to your lips.

She wants to kiss you.

A fact that you notice quite easily.

You want to kiss her too.

You take a deep, trembling breath. You don't know if it's the height, or the cramped space, or the fact that you're alone with her right now—but it's starting to get hot in here.

You wait for a few more seconds, but then, unable to wait any longer, you turn to look at her-

Only to realize she already looked away before you could capture her gaze.

You look down at your lap, feeling the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile again, and... you don't bother stopping it, nor the way your tongue flicks out to wet your lower lip.

You're shaken out of your thoughts when the cabin jerks to a stop. It stopped at the very top. The highest point, where the view is the best.

You don't take time to look out the window. You can only focus on the woman sitting next to you.

Just one more look.

Just one more. That's all you want. You want to turn your head just one more time and kiss her right here in the cabin.

Just one more before you lean in and capture her lips with your own.

You don't know what pulls at your chest or your head, but suddenly you feel the urge to look back at her-

But she stares down at her lap, idly fiddling with her fingers, picking at the blue and pink nail polish. Her braids hide her face from your view. You want to reach out and tuck them behind her ear to see her face better... but you hesitate.

You wait for her to look at you, and when she does-

She looks up, and your eyes lock. She doesn't look away. Neither do you.

—

“Isha will love this.” Jinx chuckles, patting the pink shark sitting next to her.

You watch her from across the table. The diner around you is mostly empty, the staff working while waiting for the next customers to come in.

You look at the clock on the wall. Only an hour left before you have to pick up your little sister. Both of you decided to take a break from the amusement park and grab a bite to eat at the nearby diner.

Jinx sighs, drumming her fingers on the table, growing bored with the wait time. “I'm bored,” she whines, “Let's do something.”

You've been waiting for your order for a while. “Like what?”

She hums, thinking. “Like... roleplay.”

You shrug. Why not? You don't have anything else to do. “Alright, let's try it.”

She grins and leans forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Okay, you're going to pretend to call a friend, and I-” she points her finger at her chest, “-will answer. Sounds good?”

You're a bit confused, but you nod anyway. If you can humor her, maybe it'll pass the time. You lift your hand up and imitate holding a phone, with your thumb and pinky pointed upwards. “Ring ring.”

Jinx does the same and clears her throat before replying, “Heeellloo.”

The sound of her cheerful voice makes you crack a smile. “Hey.” You put on your serious but friendly tone, looking straight at her. “Is this... er-” You pause, your brain working to come up with a random name. “...is this Rebecca?”

“Heyyy yes it is, this is Becca.” Jinx tilts her head to the side. “How are you?”

You have to suppress a laugh. She really sounds like another person. “Yeah, I'm doing good. I was just calling to catch up. How's life been?��

“Oh, the usual. Work, sleep, rinse, and repeat,” she says with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Well…” You look down at the table, pretending to think of something, then look up and meet her eyes once again. “I met my ex.”

Jinx's (or rather, Rebecca's) eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. “Your ex? Like, Jinx, your ex girlfriend? When did this happen?”

“Just today. I was having a meeting with my boss, and, well she… she kind of accidentally spilled a drink on her.”

Jinx's face scrunches up into an 'O' shape. “She spilled a drink on your boss?” she repeats. “What the hell? Why would she do that?”

“I think she's jealous.”

Jinx smirks. “So... what did you do? Did you two end up talking?”

“Yeah, we did,” you reply, watching her face. “She's still the same. Same eyes, same lips, same tattoos, same long braids of blue hair... beautiful as she always is.”

Jinx's expression softens. She listens to you intently, smiling.

You hesitate before continuing. “I still... love it.”

You stare down at the table and lay one of your hands on the surface.

“I like it when she looks at me,” you say, your fingers tracing the wood. “I like to feel her eyes on me when I look away.” Your eyes return to hers.

Jinx lets her hand rest on the table, her fingers only a few inches away from your own. The gap between your fingers is not close enough to touch, but it still causes your heart rate to pick up.

You look at her slender digits, tracing the faint veins on the back of her hand.

Her hand moves a bit, as if she were about to reach out and touch yours, but then she changes her mind. “Are you going to get back together?”

You contemplate her words, and then a snort of laughter escapes your lips. “We haven't really talked about it yet,” you answer.

There's a pregnant pause, the two of you looking into each other's eyes in silence.

You break the silence with a cough and return your hand back down to the table. You mimic hanging up the phone, signaling that the conversation is over. She does the same, coughing awkwardly.

“Your turn,” you say, “you call your friend.”

“Okay, okay.” She raises her hand, mimicking holding a phone once more. “Brrrring brrrringggg.”

You play along and answer in a deep voice. “Sup, dude? What's up?”

She giggles at your tone. “Hey, how ya been?”

“Doin' just fine, ya know. Livin' the dream. You?”

“I'm doing just great,” she responds. “No, scratch that. I'm rapturous. Wanna know why?”

“And why, might I ask?”

“I met someone.”

“Who?”

“My ex.”

“Oh wow.”

“And the best part is,” she adds, looking at you. “She's here with me,” she continues. “Have you heard the saying that we're all our own angels and demons?”

You nod.

She hums and grins. “Well, turns out that's true. Because I'm looking at an angel right in front of me.”

That's so cheesy... and it's working. “How did you meet?” you ask, changing the topic.

“Oh yeah, about that…” She clears her throat and sits back. “Well,” she starts, drumming her fingers on the table. “I was just curious about who your... uh, I mean her…” She wrinkles her nose. “Valentine's date was. So I got info on her little sister.”

“My sis—I mean, her little sister?”

“Yep, that little squirt was actually pretty cooperative.” Jinx chuckles. “But I just saw her with another woman in a cafe. Turned out it was just her boss.”

You laugh at that, shaking your head.

She grins, satisfied that she was able to make you laugh.

The two of you sit in silence again, waiting for the waiter to bring your orders.

“Anyway, I know we have a lot to talk about,” she continues, her eyes finding yours. “Everything that went down between us. About our relationship. But…” her voice trails off, and then she seems to have found her voice again. “But do… do you think… do you think we would ever be back together?”

Your hand moves from the table to her hand, taking it into yours. The gesture is so natural you don't even notice it until you see the way her fingers wrap around yours.

You run your thumb over her knuckles, her hand fitting in yours like it always did and always will. “I think... if you both talk things out... and if you're both willing to try again…”

She brings your hands to her mouth, placing kisses on your knuckles, on the bumps of your skin, on the veins that run beneath. She looks back up at you, her eyes searching for something in your face. Whatever she was looking for, she finds it and smiles.

“Are you willing to try again?”

You don't reply.

What would it be like to be with her again? Despite everything, despite how things were, there were still moments you remember in a warm light.

The times you and she held hands and just walked down the street. The times you two would sit in a park and people, watch and joke about anyone that walked past.

The times you got stranded in the rain with her and had to share an umbrella, giggling as you squeezed together under it.

The times you two went on a road trip together and laughed and sang along to the radio the whole way.

The times you two spent a night at a hotel together, and neither one of you got any sleep.

The times she would laugh at a stupid joke or just do something adorable, and all the air of the room would just leave you and your voice would get caught in your throat.

The times you saw her in a t-shirt and shorts and no makeup, and she's still the most beautiful in the world.

The times you felt your heart leap when you saw her name pop up on your phone.

The times spent talking about the most boring things and the most boring things were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.

The times you went to the movies and she'd get bored and try to make out with you.

The times she fell asleep with her head on your shoulder, and you'd stay as still, not moving a muscle, and when she asked why you weren't moving, you said “Nothing,” but it was because you could feel her breathing against your neck, and it was so calming that you just wanted to stay like that forever.

The times the sun would hit her face and light up her features and her hair would be golden and the freckles on the bridge of her nose would stand out.

The times she would say something ridiculous like “Oh god, my back is killing me... it sure would be a shame if a beautiful and caring woman just, oh, I don't know, gave me a back massage,” and then look at you with complete innocence.

The times she went with you to meet your grandmother, who immediately took a liking to her and pulled you aside later on to tell you she's a keeper.

The times she would talk about her childhood, and you would listen, and you thought “I wish I could take your pain away.”

The times you stood in the kitchen and cooked together, and it was a mess of flour and batter and sugar and eggs everywhere because you two kept throwing things at each other and laughing and kissing and stealing sips of cookie batter.

The times you woke up next to her and she was looking at you and her eyes were still bleary and the only thought you could think of was “I love her even more than I did last night.”

The times she would get upset about the smallest thing and leave, only to come back hours later with tired eyes and a tight smile. The times you would try to comfort her and she would shrug you off and tell you she's fine, even when she's clearly not.

The times she'd play with your little sister, pretending to be a princess alongside her. The times she'd be a regal queen who let her little princess sit atop her throne. The times she'd be an evil witch who terrorized your little sister. The times she'd be an adventurer who'd save your little sister.

The times she'd look at you when she thought you didn't notice. The times she'd lie and say she wasn't staring at you.

The times she would come to your place unannounced, just to show you something that reminded her of you.

The times you would just exist. No need for words. No need for actions. Just both of you in the same space, comfortable.

There used to be so much love between you two.

The nicknames you had for each other. The inside jokes that no one else knew about. The looks you would give each other from across the room.

You knew the taste of her lips better than your own name. You knew where to kiss, to taste, to worship. Her moles, her scars, her tattoo, her hips, her waist, her neck, her shoulders, her wrist, and it would always lead back to her lips. “All roads lead to Rome,” they say, and Rome was her lips.

You'd trace every line and curve on her body with your tongue the way a blind man would read Braille. You worshipped her like the messiah. She was the promised land to your Moses, her body the Holy of Holies, parting her legs like the Red Sea as you knelt at her altar, and drown in her like an Israelite drinking from Marah.

Being with her was like sitting beside a fire on a cold night. It was cozy, and sometimes you would feel her hand on your back or her arm around your shoulders.

She had a habit of touching you, you could never keep yourself away from each other.

Even now, the way she holds your hand and kisses your hand, it reminds you of the days when all the two of you did was touch and kiss.

But that was then, and this is now.

Instead of spending every minute with each other, you're now sitting across from each other at an empty table in a quiet diner with the ghost of your past relationship hanging over your heads.

You remember the cold moments.

The times you two would fight, scream, yell, sometimes cry.

The times she was distant and cold. The times you wished you could just understand her thoughts.

The times you both would argue and shout at each other and afterwards lay in your bed and just stare at the empty space between the both of you.

The times she'd lock herself in the bathroom and you'd stand outside, your heart breaking with every word you heard her utter.

The times you would wake up in the middle of the night and see her on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, her body trembling, and every single time you would reach for her, and every single time she would pull away.

The times she'd hold you close and you'd hug her back and you'd feel her body shake from stifled sobs, and you would tell her it was okay, even though you didn't know if you were trying to make it okay for her or yourself because nothing was okay.

The times you felt so lost and alone and you just wanted her to hold you, tell you you were going to be fine, but instead she'd give you a blank look and just stare at you, unable to understand how you were feeling because how could she when she was so disconnected from herself and the world around her?

The times you wondered if she still loved you as much as you loved her, because even when you thought she didn't, she would catch you off guard and surprise you with a joke or a smile or a laugh or just the way she'd take your breath away with the simplest things, and you'd feel her love in those little moments and you'd cherish them because those moments were fleeting.

You'd hang onto them desperately, hoping to preserve them, hoping to relive them in your mind over and over because you wanted to feel her love again.

But the feeling would fade so fast, because soon enough she'd be in those moods again, and you'd feel yourself slipping from her grasp more and more every day, and you just wanted to hold on in vain, hold on and hope it will get better, it had to get better, it would get better.

And for the first time in your life, you were tired.

Not of her, not ever of her. You never get tired of her, you never want to be without her. But at that moment, you were tired.

You were tired of trying to understand her, tired of trying to make everything okay, tired of feeling like your love for her wasn't reciprocated.

Just tired.

You never wanted to break up with her. You never wanted to leave her. You just wanted everything to stop. You just wanted a pause.

She was tired too, maybe more tired than you.

When you said, “I'm tired,” she took it personally. She thought you were tired of her, you were tired of the relationship, and you were tired of being with her.

So she left. She broke up with you.

You never expected her to do that.

You never expected her to walk away from you, just like that.

You thought that she would understand, you thought that she would know what you meant when you said you were tired. You thought she would know that you were tired of being the only one trying to make things work, tired of feeling like you're the only one who cares, tired of feeling like the only one who's making sacrifices.

She didn’t hear the words you were actually saying, the words, “I need a break, just a short break.”

She heard different words, words that said, “I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore.”

And she responded accordingly.

She ended things before you could end them on your own terms.

She broke up with you all because you said the wrong words and she heard the wrong words.

But the past is the past, and you can't stay there forever. Right now, you're here with her.

You feel her hand squeeze yours, and you look up to meet her eyes.

They're the same eyes you lost yourself in so many times before, the same eyes that used to be filled with love, affection, passion, and desire. All of a sudden, the past is so close. The feeling comes rushing back, and you can't let it go.

You realize that your boss was right. Something is still there. Something that hasn't faded away.

Was or is, it's still there.

Are you willing to try again?

You know it wouldn't be easy. You still remember every painful, difficult moment of your relationship. You still remember every stupid fight, every misunderstanding, every mistake, and every argument.

But those warm moments that bring up an ache in your chest when you remember them, they were real. You know they were real.

Maybe this time, it will work out. Maybe this time, both of you will learn from your mistakes. Maybe this time, you'll make a better effort to understand her. Maybe this time, you'll try harder to listen to her and make sure she understands that you don't mean anything differently than what you're saying.

Maybe this time, everything will be different.

It will be different.

Maybe if things work out, you won't lose her a second time.

Just maybe… you can get things right this time.

It took you both long enough to realize that neither of you really wanted it to end, right? and now here you are, with her, and she's looking at you with those same beautiful eyes, and-

Maybe this time, things can change for the better.

You squeeze her hand back, and it's an answer without saying anything.

She sees it, and she smiles. She turns your hand and brings it again to her lips, pressing a kiss on your palm.

This time, she doesn't let your hand go.

You don't let go of her hand either.

missed a deadline for this, but that’s okay because it’s worth it, JINX IS WORTH IT!! 🤞

#arcane #jinx #arcane x reader #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #jinx x reader #jinx x female reader #jinx x you #jinx x y/n #jinx imagine #fluff #slight angst #valentines #valentines day #‘love is sweet the second time around’ or smth

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notyournecromancer · 4 months ago

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being a POC in the Marauders/HP fandom is really interesting to me because it seems and feels like a really predominantly white space, which, hey, nothing new! and that does come with some challenges. for the most part, they're fairly under the radar.

it's things like being able to count the POC in a discord server on one hand, even though there's 100+ people in the community.

it's people not taking into account racial dynamics whether that be in a fic, or in a tiktok, tumblr, whatever. there are innate power imbalances in our society (regardless of what country you live in) and to assume because this fandom is a largely open, liberal and leftist space, that they don't carry over to fandom, is exceptionally naive. buuuuut, we live and learn, so people can and should be given a certain amount of grace. but what is unforgivable is to have them pointed out to you and for you to dismiss, ignore or belittle them. Not only that, but you as a white person, do not get to be the forgiving voice to another white person when they make one of these mistakes. please please please respect and understand that.

there's also (and i'm sorry if this is controversial and frankly it makes me really nervous to even write this), a trend of assigning ethnicities, cultures and races to characters in stories without having a proper understanding of them, or having a particular reason for doing so. I'm never going to sit here and say "you as a white person shouldn't write about ____ race!", because I don't believe that. but what I would really, really love to see, is for white creators and writers to ask themselves some questions beforehand:

what does the race of this character add to the story outside of me chasing clout with a particular group of people/is it necessary for me to be writing the lived experience of a culture/ethnicity I've never taken the time to learn about?

if so, why?

am i the right person to be doing this?

are my actions outside of my writing towards these POC reflective of this?

i also think it's really important to remember that unconscious bias is a thing, and it's really easy for us to spot in your writing if it isn't something you've addressed. Not only that, but even if you write the most well-researched POC in your fic, even if you're sharing posts about Lebanon and Palestine, none of that matters if your actions when interacting with us show us that you are indifferent to the power dynamics at play with you being a white person, often with a large audience, in this space. virtue signalling is spectacularly unhelpful if you're writing checks your ass can't cash.

that being said, I think throwing 'racist' around as a term at people who make mistakes is really unhelpful. because every situation has context and nuance, and dogpiling never helps anybody. there are opportunities for learning, developing and understanding here. but please remember, if a POC tells you something is upsetting, harmful or offensive - even if other POC haven't said that to you - it's not your place as a white person to dismiss that.

anyway, hope that helps, love u very much xo

#on race #on fandom #marauders fandom #marauders #im writing this then running because #i am scared of all of you #but i am saying this in good faith #and hope it can be taken that way #lanas crying again

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

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Flag IV

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Child!Reader

Summary: You're hurt and scared

Your head throbs as you wake up, the pitter-patter of rain falling on your skin.

The rain is cold but your tears are hot, scorching your skin as they roll down your cheeks.

The butterfly you were chasing is missing, flown away to hide from the spring storm that you now find yourself trapped in.

You don't know how long it has been raining but you're soaked to the bone and shivering.

Two Jordans whine at you, both blurry around the edges as you sit up.

There is a sharp rock where your head was, blood being washed away as the rain gets heavier.

The Jordans whine at you again and you reach out for one of them but your hand passes right through.

"Jordi?" You ask as the second Jordan nudges you with his snout," I'm tired. Where's...Where's Mama and Mummy?"

Your eyes slip closed for a moment. It's easy to nod off even though you're very cold and your head feels icky.

Jordan barks and you jolt awake again, head throbbing.

Hot blood runs from your forehead down your face as your gaze goes blurry again, Jordan just a weird dog shaped blur.

You want Mama and Mummy. You don't know where they are.

The rain turns to snow quickly and the temperature plummets, your clothes freezing on your body.

Your breath comes out in a puff in front of you.

Jordan barks again, lightly nudging you under a little ledge. It does little to stop the cold but it keeps you out of the snow that clings and melts in your hair.

Jordan is warm against you and you shiver, little hands burying themselves into his fur.

"Mama an' Mummy," You say through cracked lips," Jordi...Where Mama an' Mummy?"

You don't remember much, not really.

You were playing in the forest with Frida earlier and she let you run ahead with Jordan a little bit, as long as you stayed in sight at all times.

There was a fork in the path. Usually, you swing right but Jordan got distracted by a butterfly and went left.

You followed after him, distracted by the butterfly too.

You'd tripped on something. You're not sure what it was, maybe an upturned root or tree branch. You'd tripped though and went tumbling down into the ditch.

You must have hit your head on that rock because your head is all sticky with blood.

"J-Jordi," You say, shivering," 'm cold. Mummy an' Mama be here soon?"

Jordan doesn't answer you, patting his front paws on the ground as you lean more heavily into him.

"'m tired too," You say," Havin' a little nap."

Your fingertips are freezing. You can barely move them as they go from their usual colour to a little purple. Your lips are the same colour but you can't see them.

"Jus' a little nap. A little one, Jordi."

Your eyes slip closed again as you lean your head against Jordan's body.

He whines a little, shifting around before he's curled fully around you.

Jordan's nice and warm like your blankets at home, when you're wedged between Mama and Mummy in front of the fire with a little mug of hot chocolate that Mummy makes special for you with whipped cream, chocolate shavings and marshmallows.

You don't know how long you nap for or even if you nap at all.

It's like one long blink as Jordan shifts away from you, barking and snarling.

You've never heard Jordan snarl before so you try to wrench your eyes open. It's hard going though, frozen shut by all your tears, but eventually, you get them open.

There's another dog shaped blur in front of Jordan, lying down on the ground nonplussed.

There's a human shape too and you puff out a big breath.

"Mama?"

"No, sweetie," The blob says," I'm not your Mama. But I'm here to take you to her. Can you come a bit closer?"

You try to get closer but you don't have much strength to get to your feet, all shaky and weak.

Jordan whines when you fall over and snaps as the strange woman comes closer.

"Easy," She says to your dog," I'm here to help her. That's a nasty cut you've got there. Can you tell me how it happened?"

"I...I hurted myself when I fell. Big ouchie."

"Yeah, it is. I've got a little bandage here, can I put it on you?"

"Bandage? Like-Like a plaster?"

"Like a big plaster."

You lean forward and the woman gently presses the gauze over your bleeding head.

"And what about your eyesight? Can you see me properly?"

"Like-Like a blob," You answer," Saw two Jordi's earlier but now only one."

"Okay, sweetheart, thanks for telling me." She reaches for her radio. "I've got her here. Skipper tracked her and her dog down. I've got a serious head wound and a likely grade three concussion. Complaints of blurry vision. Likely loss of consciousness. Difficulties with balance and speech. I've got early symptoms of hypothermia but it seemed her dog helped stave the worst of that off."

You reach out for Jordan again, who presses into your body.

"Got it, boss. Bringing her in now."

The woman reaches for you and you go willingly.

She'll take you to Mama and Mummy.

Jordan pads after you, still wary.

Emma sits at the entrance of the forest next to the ambulance. Frida sobs at her side, both of them wrapped in a blanket as they wait.

They know the paramedic has found you now, her and her dog Skipper have tracked you and Jordan down but it doesn't quell Emma's worry for you.

Not until the high-vis jacket pokes out from the forest and the search and rescue team swarm.

A blanket is wrapped around you tightly and the gauze is gently pulled away from your face to see the extent of the injury.

"Squish?" Frida calls, trying to fight through the crowd," Is she okay? Will she be alright?"

You're loaded into the ambulance, awake and talking as Emma and Frida crowd around you.

"Mama. Mummy," You say," Found me."

"Yeah," Emma says, blinking away tears," Of course we found you, squish."

You shiver. "Stayed put like you told me if I got lost. Stayed with Jordi."

Emma glances down at her feet. Jordan's covered in snow, streaks of blood drying on his fur.

"Jordi, good boy."

"The best boy."

Frida takes Emma's place talking to you, cupping your cheek as Emma reaches down for Jordan.

"You're such a good boy, Jordi," She tells him," For looking after her. The best big brother in the world."

"He almost attacked Skipper for trying to get to her," The search and rescue paramedic that found you says," He was very worried on the walk back. You've got a good one there. Both of them. She didn't run off. She stayed exactly where she fell."

"Thank you, for finding her."

"It's my job. We've got a hospital nearby that will take care of you all. They'll take her for a scan, sew up her head and put her on concussion watch. She'll be fine."

Emma can't help but repeat it again. "Thank you."

"Go," The woman says," Be with your kid."

You won't remember much of this experience. You'll never really remember the fall or the crack of your skull against the rock. You'll never really remember the nearly three hours you spent missing, huddled under the ledge with Jordan, who was desperately trying to keep you awake as your breathing got shallower and shallower and your got colder and colder.

You'll never remember the trip to the hospital but you will remember the paramedic that found you and her dog Skipper.

You will always remember her high-vis jacket and her body against yours as she carried you out of the forest back to your mothers.

You will always carry that memory with you, even when you're out in your own high-vis jacket with your own tracking dog and your own emergency medicine kit.

#woso x reader #emma lennartsson x reader #emma lennartsson #frida maanum x reader #frida maanum #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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dilf-docs · 5 months ago

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X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

cr: divider by @kodaswrld / gif @scottxlogan

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grimdarling69 · 7 months ago

Text

Another Dan and ellie deaged p2

Dick wasn't unaccustomed to getting calls at five a.m., but he wished it had happened less. He reached his hand out from the haphazardly placed blanket and fumbled for his ringing phone. Finally finding it, he quickly answered to the call. I swear if this is an arkham breakout, it better be the goddamn joker. He will be very upset if Tim just calls him in for condiment king.

"Hello?" He says sleepily. He winces and rubs his eyes away from the bright light of the phone.

"Dick. I need your help, Damian got spooked somehow and ran away. I'm pursuing him but i can't get him to stop."

His heart drops. Immediately awake, he jumps up from the bed and tries to find the suit pieces he threw around when he crashed last night.

"What happened?" I found myself asking, hoping this was just a misunderstanding. "I don't really know. We were down in the cave, and I guess he knocked a tool off and woke me up. I asked him what he was doing, but he didn't answer me and just ran to the bikes."

He could hear the slight panic in Tim's voice. "I'll call him."Wait -" I hang up.

I quickly dialed Babs number. If Damian left as fast as tim says he did, he probably didn't have his phone. I glance at the windows, one of my gloves is placed on the seal. Rain is still coming down hard. Thunder rumbling distantly.

"This better be goddamn joker." Me and Babs always thinking the same thing, I think fondly.

"Damian ran away, and I need you to connect me to his comms."On it now. I'm calling in the others just in case."

A click is heard, and I can hear slight wind and heavy breathing through my own comms. I hang up the call.

"Dami?" I ask hesitantly. His baby brother son was out there alone in the rain.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, but he doesn't speak. I quickly throw open the windows after grabbing my last glove. Skillfully and methodically climbing down. Throwing myself on my bike. Come on, Dami, answer me.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me, okay? I'll help you no matter what. I promise." He meant every word.

The bike starts, and I race down the streets in chase of the tracker. I just need to make it to Gotham in time.

__________

Bruce was no stranger from his kids running away. They'd all done it at least once. It never got any better whether they were running from him or others didn't change it. He just had to remember they always came back.

Alfred watches off to the side. Making sure if i start to go down, he could catch me. I won't. A few broken ribs and a sprained ankle won't stop me. He had gotten the call in his bedroom. Alfred had finally wrangled him into sleeping when the call came through.

"Bruce. Damian fled the nest. Dick and Tim are in pursuit, but i don't think he's stopping anytime soon." Her tone heavy but focused.

He had quickly made his way down to the cave. Alfred had stopped momentarily to wake up his other son. He would be down soon.

I start to make my way to my suit, but I'm quickly thwarted.

"Master Bruce. You will be no help with might i remind you of five broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and a stab wound." Alfred told him stepping in front.

"My son is out there. i need to find him."he said with a deep voice heavy with memories. He knew Alfred was right he would only be a hindrance. He could walk off his injuries they were barely flesh wounds, but he wasn't good with emotions. He had plenty of arguments with his kids about it before. Whatever scared Damian into running, he couldn't help him.

Duke's footsteps sounded out behind him. He walked past, gancing at him concerned but determination on his face. He turned around and limped back to the batcomputer. He just had to trust his sons to bring their brother home.

‐---------

Jason was no stranger to long nights. He hadn't even made it to his safe house anyway, too busy with the storm, making sure all the alley kids had a warm and dry place to sleep for the night.

Stormy nights were the worst for alley kids. He hated them when he ws on the streets. The cold rain freezing your clothes to you, the cold rain soaking your shelters, the cold rain ruining any halfway edible food. He's seen a lot of kids get sick from the rain and die. If you were sick, you had to hide. If others found out you were sick, they'd leave you in a heartbeat. It caused a lot of fights with Bruce in the early days. He hid his injuries or sick days in case Bruce finally saw how weak he was and threw him out.

"Damian fled the nest. The rest of the batboys are already heading out after him." Oracle spoke into his comms.

The Batboys. What O had recently started calling Dickhead, Timbo, Duke, Demon brat and him ever since the batgirls left to Hong Kong together.

Demon brat, his obligation in the league. When he left, he'd assumed he'd never see him again, or if he did, it'd be from opposite sides. Sometimes, it felt a lot like opposite sides regardless.

Jason revved up his bike again he was mostly done with his people anyway. He would have to have some of his trustworthy men on the lookout for stragglers.

He pulled up his tracker to Damian. He winded through the streets following it.

---------

Crack

Thunder sounded out. Dick had hated the rain ever since... He just hated it. It was worse, so with Dami out there all alone. He didn't even know what had scared him enough to run. Damian would never run just cause what he knocked a tool over? That didn't sound like his brother son. Something else must have happened. He just had to figure out what.

"Nightwing. Report." Bruce growled into the comms suddenly. His throat felt dry. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak.

"SHIT!" A crashing sound loud enough to echo on the comms could be heard. Tim, dami, please be alright. He was just now reaching the Gotham border. Just hold on, I think desperately.

"Red Robin, what's happening on your end." Bruce demanded.

"Red Robin is fine. Damian deployed the bike sludge. He had to grapple backward to avoid the sludge. I think his leg is broken."

"Be careful, Signal, one wrong move with your powers, and you could light that right on up." Jason attempted to banter. Jason and his bad habit of deflecting by using humor. Something he's gotten in trouble because of before.

"We are on the warehouse that we busted yesterday with that drug deal across from Gotham Bridge. We lost sight of him." Duke ignored Jason's comment and carried on.

"Damian has stopped near gotham bridge hurry. Cameras aren't looking good."

"Oracle. Report, what do you see?" He can hear Bruce's gravelly voice tinged with desperation. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

"I think he might jump."

The silence was suffocating.

Click.

Damians comms came back online.

"Damian?" Bruce's voice sounded distorted and echoes to his ears.

"Dami, can you hear me?" He knew he could.

"Yes."

"Master Damian, please come home." Alfred didn't beg, but he swore he could hear it in his voice.

"We can help you. Damian, don't do whatever you're planning. Please." Jason's voice was desperate.

" Please, Damian, listen to us. Let us help you."he was begging at this point, but he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry Richard, but I don't think you can."

Click.

Crack

Lightning broke the illusion of quiet peace. The rain thundering just as loud against the ground.

-------

Jason drove as fast as he could, but by the time he and dick made it, the bike was the only thing left of his brother.

"Damian!" Dick tried jump off after him. "Dick! Stop!" "Let me go! I have to save him. Please..." His voice was thick and course. His brother's mask was starting to peel from the wetness.

"I know. I know..." He collapsed to the ground, taking his brother with him.

The headlight flickered ominously in the heavy rain.

#dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #barbara gordon #batfamily #batbros #danny fenton #danny phantom #damian al ghul #damian wayne #bruce wayne #vlad plasmius #lex luthor #jason todd #dick grayson

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artbiter · 6 months ago

Text

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers smut #challengers x reader

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