#it’s so subtle but it’s there and it’s intentional
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𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary_ when you declined to play Ddakji with a man, the least you expected was him stalking you, even less expected when you oblige him to lick your bleeding wound after seeing him kill a man and escaping him.
warnings_ MDNI, age gap (not specified but legal) reader is a foreigner (implied American but not specified again), stalking, blood play, dom!salesman, switch!reader, toxic till the end, sexual innuendos, manipulation, questionable morals, do not romanticize this irl pls, NO PROOFREAD YET
notes_ I’ll just drop this fic and leave it there bc why am i feeling so horny for an Asian sociopath? me la estoy pasando bien raro (i like it)
♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 this man
✰ Index (+ fics here)
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Everything was irritating. The class you had was canceled last minute, the crowd at the train station was loud, the tapping of a kid in a window was constant, and the message you received asking for your campus ID to keep using your student account was sudden and required immediate action. Your cramps and migraine only aggravate everything.
You were steps away from the stairs when you stopped to take the damn picture of your ID and be done with that. But of course, you couldn’t find your wallet at first glance, so you moved aside to take a better look.
You worried about kneeling and ruining your black coat with the dirtiness of the floor at the station, but at the same time, you thought it was just stupid.
A trail of curses flooded your mind as you tried to find your wallet, making you oblivious to a random man walking in your direction.
“Excuse me, Miss… Would you like to play Ddakji?” Said the man asked you in Korean. You were occupied with a hand inside your thrifted designer tote, and your mind unconsciously prepared an answer in English.
“Sorry, I don’t have time” When you realized your mid-answer you sighed, just as you fished out your wallet. “For every win of yours, you’ll earn a great sum of cash”
Once you stood up, you met the face of the man who now answered in English as well. Very tall, handsome, innocent smile and in a suit; a businessman. You knew it was wrong to judge but there was something behind the smile he offered you that resulted eerie.
Like behind that seemingly blameless expression, the man was hiding his true intentions.
Might’ve been your eyes or hair that caught his attention. You weren’t native, and he didn’t want to think he could take advantage, yet his feet dragged him to you.
Placing your bag over your shoulder again, you grab your glasses and phone with tangled EarPods. You give the man one last look. You are not having a good day and you don’t have time to deal with this.
“What do you say?” He asks feigning kindness, eyeing you subtly without your knowledge.
“No, thank you. I don’t even know how the game works”
“You look like you are a natural. You might be surprised if you try. You just have to pick a color and try to flip the opposing tile”
The rich always trying to fuck the one who isn’t. This was just a new way. The urge to roll your eyes grew but you remained still.
“Look, I’m sorry. But I bet you do this just to see how desperate people who need money can go. I won’t be one of them. If not, sorry for misjudging you” you harshly say before putting on your EarPods and leaving the station. You leave him perplexed, huffing in disbelief and igniting a fire of curiosity inside him.
And you completely forgot about the Ddakji man as you made it to your little apartment, not knowing he would turn upside down your upcoming days.
…
Warm days in winter were exciting for you. They boosted your energy and made you want to be out all day.
You had the luck of living in a beautiful complex because it was once from a friend of your mother who married years ago and now had her single apartment for rent.
It had long warm hallways that hosted at least eight apartments by floor. With orange and pink subtle lights and uneven edges. It was truly a sight despite how little the apartments were. One bedroom with closet and bathroom, a tiny studio, small kitchen, enough space for a dining table, another small bathroom, and a half sized living room with balcony.
Your loneliness was well-balanced because you loved your home. But even on warm days, you wanted to be out.
Your red shoes contrasted with everything you stepped on. You carried a bag with a bunch of books and another one with thrifted clothes you bought.
At the park you always walked by, there was a fair amount of people as usual. You don’t care much to look around but someone makes you stare longer than needed.
The same man who asked if you wanted to play a game at the station was in the park. Another impeccable suit dressing him, looking attractive like the first time and already looking at you.
He offered you a smile, to which you didn’t reply. You looked at the ground, feeling like you had frozen.
What a weirdo, he offered bread and a random paper to a lonely man.
Simultaneously, you wondered if the man found you attractive enough to stare like that. With your mind that often became nihilistic, you thought you were delusional and that you should just keep walking.
His eyes remained glued to you. As his prey was thinking about what was better to choose, he contemplated you walking again.
The salesman realized he had made you nervous and that made him feel eager to end his job and follow you again.
Once he realized you lived in a good neighborhood, where his elegant suits matched the vibe, he got even more excited to see you again.
So now, was like it was meant to be.
How sweet, sophisticated, and innocent you looked.
Something shifted, as you passed by his side, only having a view of his back, you assumed he was worked out, his hair looked perfectly fine, and his big hands offered two things. Perhaps you had misjudged him and he really wanted to help. But your inner voice said otherwise. In a sudden change of events, you decided to look back once you were almost at the exit of the park.
With his deep gaze still set on you, your lips formed a smile.
And he took it as a first win in the games that had begun between you two.
…
Once again, you find yourself in the library. Inside one of the biggest malls you’ve been to, you are leaning at a counter, asking if they have an English translation of a book you were interested in.
Your Korean isn’t good enough yet, so as the nice librarian disappeared to find your request, you are working on your next reply, with a translation app.
“Do you recommend me this one?” your back arched as a startled reflex. You quickly stand straight and turn around to see the person you grew anxious to avoid and see again. The salesman is there, looking down at you with a perfectly orchestrated smile.
“Huh?” you ask disconcertingly, he shows you a book, his face looking like he had found a wounded little bird. But it was only you, startled and nervous by his strong presence.
The book is The Divine Comedy. Dante Alighieri.
“Certainly is a good one. A lot of heavenly justice…” you say trying to sound confident, looking at the cover of the book. Displaying the layers that separated heaven from hell. “Do you believe in heavenly justice?”
“I don’t know. We can’t call someone a sinner without a proper trial beforehand” he chuckles, which makes you frown for a second. He truly was unpredictable and you didn’t like that. “Ah, sinners. Always misjudged and harshly punished for being the ones who have the guts to make things…” his deep voice and tone made you wonder if he was self-perceived as a sinner, which made you feel worse.
“You sound like an ethnocentric…”
“I don’t think I’m far into that type of thinking, y/n” Your eyes almost popped out, leaving your hands in an anxious tremble.
“How is it possible that you know my name?” Before he can even answer, you add more. “You are stalking me”
His demonic smile makes your heart stop. The smile you once thought had innocence can’t blind you anymore. He isn’t innocent. He literally confirmed he was stalking you and you didn’t know how to feel.
“I don’t like the idea that conveys the word ‘stalking’. We can call it predestination…” you huff in disbelief. “What do you want with me?”
“I would like to get to know the woman who rejected my Ddakji offer. And ask for one more game” Your lips form a line, and quietly you are hating how much you are enjoying the conversation.
“Hmm, I’m bad at most games, so I’m afraid I will reject you once again” You turned back again to see if the librarian was coming when you felt him stepping closer, which made you feel nervous again.
“I might believe you. I always win…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers through your spine and creating a lot of tension.
Your psycho mode almost made you lean forward again, daring to see if some friction was possible. But you didn’t, trying to be prudent and acting sane.
“I would’ve wanted a normal first interaction and this time you should’ve asked me out on a date. That’s how it works where I come from but… here, I guess not” he stepped aside as the librarian handed you the book. And as you thanked her and turned to leave and pay somewhere else, he took out a card and handed it to you.
“I’m sure we can work on some sort of arrangement. Here, you may call me…” slightly irritated that he didn’t say much about your inquiry, you snatched the card and walked away.
The cathartic feelings of wanting to keep talking to him and running away from him at the same time resulted in excruciating. It didn’t make sense, the point of him was to nowhere. Being clueless about his age, name, and everything made it feel wrong. Yet, curiosity was starting to burn you.
…
Like a miracle, the heavens moved and sprinkled some luck above you. You found some friends on campus, they spoke English like you and were foreigners as well. One of them was a friend of the owner of a club and invited you for the night.
The invitation made you forgetful about your salesman, whom you hadn’t talked with since the encounter in the library. The card he handed the last time rested between the book you bought the same day, making you unable to read more because it reminded you of the encounter with him.
It resulted unknown to you when was that your life had turned over the edge of becoming twisted. Your feelings for a mysterious man who seemed more accusable than appeared remained undecided.
He made you feel like a wildfire and a caged bird at the same time. Delicate but menacing.
He seemed older than you, professional in a field, mature and imposing. Which you didn’t mind when he appeared to ask you about The Divine Comedy. Either way, you were playing but couldn’t risk anything. Especially in a country where you didn’t know how everything worked.
After getting out of the shower, your thoughts on the salesman are completely faded. You slip on a sequin dress and paint your eyes with glitter and a smokey style.
Thereafter, at the club you let yourself go and have a wild night. Between classes, essays, and the issue with the salesman, you needed a time out.
Everything feels nice when you take a bathroom break and you smile at your reflection. You know you are close to being drunk, it’s the most enjoyable stage of ingesting alcohol.
“Hey, let’s go dancing, I couldn’t find you before!” Yells one of your friends after you reunite with the little group. You nod excitedly, taking her hand and letting her take you to the dance floor.
The music reminded you of that time when spinnin records were a trend and everyone played their mixes at parties back at home. As you move along the track, you don’t look at anything in particular, you just feel interesting and sexy. But your eyes end up giving a quick glance at one table, almost making you stop your euphoric moment.
You swore you saw your salesman.
Looking around you don’t see him, so you return dancing but the odd sensation in your chest doesn’t let you rest.
“What happens?” Asks another friend, looking worried.
“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone. Never mind…” you shake your head, smiling and convincing them that everything is fine.
But once they got more drunk, you walked out, despite curiosity, you wanted to confirm if the tall gorgeous man was near you.
Rarely you bring up to question your life decisions. Not because you thought you were perfect, but because you easily accepted your errors.
And it wasn’t hard to accept you completely messed up by getting out of the club. Where the night was colder, and some steps away from the main entrance, the crowd was loud. A man could be heard pleading and sobbing, which made you fearful but eager to see what was happening.
You peeked at the alley beside the club. A wave of shock flooded you once you noticed another man was punching the one who yelped and sobbed for forgiveness.
Your salesman was the attacker.
“Please! I’ll pay everything back!” Your mind raced back to the moment you spotted your salesman inside the club minutes ago.
His dark grey suit didn’t fit the aura of the place, but he seemed to be talking with the same man he was now punching.
It was obvious at that point that he wasn’t a good man. He made fun of making people play his seemingly innocent games to later laugh in the face whenever they lost. He was never flirting with you, the odd feeling of uncertainty you felt with him was right.
You had to go. You had to burn the card he gave you, avoid the station where you met him, and forget about his face.
There’s panic in your system, your heart beats fast and nausea starts coming up your throat.
You want to get immediately drunk and forget everything you saw with a hangover. You need it.
But you don’t get very far. Midway through the stairs that conduct to the club, a hand holds your forearm with extreme pressure and drags you inside a private room.
Your salesman finally found you.
…
“You just killed a man!” you almost yelled as soon as he pushed you inside and closed the door.
The room was very fancy like the club. It had a big desk near a window, flower-shaped hanging lamps, black sparkly floor tiles, and a sage velvet couch.
Your salesman slides his fingers through his hair and looks at the ceiling before turning to you. One hand still carrying the murder weapon.
“He deserved it” was all he answered and you take a breath. In need of an alibi, you opened a random fridge in the room and grabbed a beer. Your salesman watched how you sipped at the can. He knew you were feeling a mix of curiosity and disgust for him.
Once you drink at least half of the content, you sigh, brushing aside some hair and walking towards him.
“Who are you?” you ask pleadingly, desperate to know how far you’ve gone for him.
“Eventually you’ll know” he sounds cold, calculating, and menacing. “You didn’t call…”
He was taking advantage of your vulnerability.
“I met you a week ago, I don’t even know your name” you admit with shame and dissatisfaction.
For the first time, he genuinely touches you. Hands straight to your waist, making gasp in surprise.
“You’re smart and will eventually understand. You’re my good girl”
His good girl….
What was left to do when you have a sociopath holding your waist with the same hands he had used to kill a man? Play along, even if you are terrified.
What had been your horrified face, slowly ends up in a smirk, tilting your head, squandering cheekiness. “I’m not your good girl, sir”
He slowly leaned back, taking a seat on the sage couch, one of his hands going straight to rest behind his head, against the wall. He twirled the knife against his knee, making you uneasy, but confident about your upcoming words.
“If I walk away, you can’t do much with me, I’m a foreigner. Sure the authorities would dismantle whatever dirty job you’re into and that’s a big no-no” you explain, and feeling a little too bold, you step between his legs.
“Your lack of ignorance amazes me” he admits, offering you a cocky smile. “It makes me even more infatuated”
Your left knee pushed aside his hand twirling the knife. He remained still but sure seemed slightly surprised when you ended up straddling him. With your hands glued to his dark tie, putting it into place.
“Hmm, well, be careful. I am no threat, I barely have valuable skills to get rid of you but I know I could be a problem. So I guess I won, sir…” you allow yourself to smile, following a path with your fingers, from his tie to his cheeks and nose, softly tracing his pale skin.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart” You knew he was trying to be in control, and the best part was that you weren’t fighting for it.
“There’s a lot I might not understand. I’m just a girl who happened to be in this city for a temporary academic project” When your lips brushed his, you couldn’t deny he was so fucking hot, you wished he wasn’t so weird and probably part of a mafia or cult or whatever. “You are the grown-ass man who got obsessed with me”
“I just find you an odd but interesting player, sweet girl” he tried to use his innocent smile but it was useless when you grabbed him by the shoulders and finally dared to kiss him.
He controlled it the moment he touched you again. His hands had a possessive sting and firmly grabbed you by the hips. One of them still holding the knife.
Feeling bold, with adrenaline flowing freely, you softly bit his lower lip. You knew it was over when he almost let out a moan, and after checking he had his eyes closed, you literally jumped away from him.
Without looking back, you started running. Your clumsy steps turn frantic, knowing damn well he would start following you soon. As you literally start pushing people to get out, your heart beats faster than ever and you have a growing anxiety, begging you to stop and breathe.
Once the cold air hit you, as you took a cab and saw no sign of your salesman, confusion struck you and you saw the blood in your chest and arm.
“Are you alright, girl?” The driver asked, also watching your bleeding state.
“Yes, just an accident, I’m okay” he nods unsure, but starts driving after you give him your destination.
His knife must’ve sliced your skin when you stood up from his lap. When he moved one of his big hands to caress your chin.
It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of your salesman. Although you should be; but you weren’t. Could it be that the worst part was that you were attracted to him? Even after watching him kill a man? You were screwed.
You realize the reason why you always ran away from him is because you don’t know how to face his unpredictable demeanor.
At that point, you didn’t know what he wanted. Only that he was obsessed with you. But his intentions remained a mystery unsolved.
Before getting out of the cab, you pay and send your friends a message that you left early because you got a headache after vomiting. This didn’t happen, but would’ve been better to experience it as a young woman in her twenties.
…
When you opened the door, he was already inside. The worst part is that you weren’t surprised anymore. You only stood at the feet of the door, looking at him with uneasiness.
“You got me worried,” he says, stopping his movements around your table. “You left some blood stains and I thought it was serious”
“You accidentally showed me your true nature. A little bit of blood shouldn’t scare you” his shirt indeed had some bloody spots, his blazer was gone, and the sleeves of his messy shirt were rolled up. You hated that your first thought was that he looked very hot.
He moved and took a seat at one of your tables. He sighed and you realized that perhaps he was also screwed up. For letting himself go too far for you.
“I don’t regret any encounter we’ve had,” he says. “Me neither”
He can’t stop staring at your bloodstained dress and you notice.
Fuck everything, you thought.
I’m attracted to him, he’s attracted to me, What’s the worst thing that could happen? (I don’t want to know).
“Silly boy, look what you did to me,” you say looking at the soaked fabric.
Something possessed you at that moment. Your hands went straight to lift your dress. His eyes trailed your sparkly underwear, your lower belly, and your ribs that rose and fell as you breathed.
Your hands twirl behind your back to unhook your bra; also soaked, throwing it to the floor.
Your salesman is quiet, his innocent smile about to fall because you know you have taken him by surprise.
Likely you’ll get a scar. The would-be slightly deep, an uneven line that passed from your neck to your shoulder.
You step forward, confidently eyeing him.
“Clean it” he tried to stand up, probably to grab a med kit but you stopped him with your heel. “With your mouth. Lick it clean…”
He gulped.
His manspread became the only thing you could care about. How he eyed you with lust and possession for some seconds, and then to lean forwards.
Once again his hands landed on the curves of your hips and he made you step up, leaving him inches away from you.
Your sudden surgation grew and his hot tongue finally made contact with your skin.
You savored the feeling of his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t clean anything but the semi-dry blood over your breast. He was only making a mess.
Then, he lifts his head and catches your lips in a sullied kiss. The way he held you, made you understand how he always wanted control. Above anything.
“I will be gone within time. You can ruin me while it lasts…” you blurt out, panting for air.
“I’ll ruin you. But I don’t want to rip you apart. That’s pointless…” he admits in your lips, blood near your chin that he wipes out. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in years. My little toy…”
“Alright, I’ll be your toy” he nods, kissing you again. “Know that my lips are sealed when it comes to you”
“And you won’t have to worry about anything again…” you moan on his lips when he pulls your hair and finally makes you lay on your once new carpet, now displaying some splotches of blood.
“I don’t need your money”
“Don’t you want to make your mother proud and relieved from student debts? From rent?” You can’t think straight. “It’s not correct…”
“None of this is, y/n. Now shut your mouth and spread your legs, toy”
It’s wrong, immoral, a complete madness. You know everything will change once the night dies and the morning comes. But as much as you tried to communicate to him that you weren’t scared, you knew it was over, you’ve gotten too deep into his shit.
“Farewell to my purity” you whisper in his ear and it’s enough to make his eyes turn darker, full of lust.
Everything that consoles purity would be gone from you. And the fact that you were ready scared you. But once his hands started meeting places across your body, you welcomed the sin.
As well as your mind seized thinking. Not caring about the consequences.
_______________________________________________
If you ask for more I will provide
Quién me manda a escribir estas mamadas? I’m just ovulating.
#gong yoo x reader#the salesman x reader#squid game x reader#squid game x y/n#squid game x you#gong yoo
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"Oh Alex, you look gorgeous you do." "Oooh Miles, I fancy you a bit."
The Last Shadow Puppets at BBC Radio 1 Weekend, 2016
#the way they're so giggly and in tune and so totally *aware* of their proximity to each other#it's absolutely PEAK help-i'm-sitting-right-next-to-my-crush-and-i-don't-know-what-to-do body language#like alex's intent and lingering looks#the flirty humour#the way miles keeps fidgeting with his clothes#and do not even speak to me about alex doing that not-so-subtle little leg spread in the last one or i may die#ughhhh#i absolutely LOATHE them 😩😭#(and miss them 🥺)#milex#tlsp#the last shadow puppets#alex turner#miles kane#eycte era#my gifs#lulu posts
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—close call.
in which : crammed in a maintenance closet with boothill, his audacious plan saves you both from the ipc —but not without leaving your heart racing for reasons far beyond fear.
pairing : boothill x gn!reader
wc 1.4k, "enemies" with tension, forced proximity, banter banter banter, reader implied to be a galaxy ranger + shorter than him, flirting (re: dialogue. he's a tease), reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3
from event req: here ; art by @/kiu30750
the rain hammers down on the tin roof above, its rhythmic pounding the only sound aside from your ragged breaths and the distant shouts of the ipc agents scouring the area. you barely managed to wedge yourself into the maintenance closet with boothill; and now, here you are —cramped, drenched, and undeniably screwed.
pressed chest-to-chest with him, the infamous galaxy ranger whose charm is as notorious as his tendency to get into trouble, you can’t decide which is worse: the likelihood of getting caught or the suffocating proximity.
“just wonderful,” you mutter under your breath, voice dripping with sarcasm. you shift, trying to create even an inch of breathing room. though it’s hopeless; the movement only presses you tighter against his chest, and the slight tilt of his wide-brimmed hat brushes your ear, sending an uninvited shiver down your spine.
boothill, as infuriating as ever, doesn’t seem the least bit shaken by the situation. if anything, his composure is maddeningly relaxed, a sharp contrast to the rapid thuds of your heart and the faint shuffling of ipc agents just beyond the door; as though you aren’t currently hiding from people who would gladly haul you both in —or worse.
“things would’ve gone better if you hadn’t tripped the alarm back there,” you hiss.
he lifts an eyebrow, eyes narrow slightly as he glances down at you. “me? yer the one who—”
before he can finish, you press your hand over his mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. his words die against your palm, leaving only the thrum of his breath against your skin. but even that is drowned out by the frantic beating of your hearts, the air thick and suffocating as you both listen intently to the shuffling sounds just outside the door.
you can hear footsteps drawing nearer, the unmistakable clink of weapons being adjusted, the subtle scrape of boots on metal. your pulse quickens, the pressure in your chest building with each passing second. you instinctively press your hand harder over boothill’s mouth, a desperate attempt to suppress even the smallest sound.
his skin is surprisingly warm pressed against you —a sharp contrast to the coolness of his metal body, making the entire sensation feel disturbingly real.
"ya gonna fudgin' suffocate me if yer press so hard," he mutters, the words barely audible under your hand. his fingers wrap around your wrist, firm but careful, and he gently pulls your hand away from his mouth.
before you can retort, the sharp sound of the lock breaking pierces the tension between you. both of you snap your heads toward the door just as it starts to creak open. without hesitation, boothill reaches out and kicks a broom across the floor, jamming it under the handle to hold the door shut —for now.
the door rattles violently as the ipc agents push against it, the muffled voices on the other side growing louder. each thud against the flimsy barricade reverberates through the cramped closet; the handle straining under the pressure, threatening to give out at any moment.
"seems like it ain’t gonna hold for long,” his drawl thick with that familiar, unbothered tone. his eyes flick to the door, then back to you, his stance relaxed despite the impending danger. “ya better start thinkin’ quick, 'cause i ain't exactly got a plan here."
the words barely register before your mind starts to race as panic crawls up your spine. your thoughts begin to spiral —there’s no escape route, no backups, and little to no time left. you’re running through options, half of them nonsensical, as the door rattles louder with each passing second.
“heh, adorable.” his infuriating grin is more felt than seen, a slight tilt of his head as he takes in your flustered state. “wreckin’ yer pretty head over this an’ sacrificin’ yerself f’me?”
your heart stutters in your chest, a mix of frustration and embarrassment flooding your system as you snap a glare up at him, your words coming out sharp and defensive, "you wish!"
boothill chuckles, his irksome grin still in place. “d'worry, i was just kiddin’. i have a plan.”
“what is it?” you ask, your voice betraying the flicker of nervousness you feel.
instead of answering, he takes off his wide-brimmed hat and places it on your head, tilting it slightly so the brim is low enough to cover the side of your face, shadowing your features.
you shift under his touch, an odd shiver running through you. “stay still, will ya?” his voice is surprisingly soft as he adjusts the hat, his movements so gentle it catches you off guard. though you still can’t help but be curious.
you blink up at him, still trying to piece things together. “what... what’s this supposed to do?”
his eyes meet yours again, “just trust me, darlin’.”
before you can ask any further, his hand cups your jaw, tilting your head upward. thumb brushing over your lips as he leans in, and for one heart-stopping moment, you find yourself holding your breath, your pulse quickening in anticipation.
but the contact doesn’t land —not entirely. instead, his thumb slips between your lips, a barrier that keeps the distance just shy of crossing the line. your breath hitches in your throat, the aching proximity making everything feel too intense, as his presence fills every inch of the space around you.
heat prickles across your face, a flush creeping up your neck as you feel the tension in the air thicken. his mouth hovers, almost brushing against yours; instead, brushing against a small barrier —the press of his thumb between your lips, just enough to keep you both from closing the gap.
before you can fully process what's happening, the closet door swings open with a sharp metallic clang, flooding the cramped space with light.
“whoa,” one of the ipc agents blurts, freezing mid-step as their eyes flicker between two figures; whose faces are far too close, and posture far too intimate for any doubt to remain.
“oh,” another grunt stammered, a hint of awkwardness in their modulated tone. “apologies. we, uh… didn’t mean to intrude —carry on!”
the words tumble out in a rush, and they hastily pull the door shut, leaving you both in the dim, suffocating silence once again.
boothill doesn’t immediately pull away. his lips curl into a smug grin as he eyes you with a hint of amusement. “that wide-eyed stare of yer just now? kinda pathetic, ya know,” his voice dripping with a taunting, teasing tone.
you can almost feel the heat of his smirk against your skin; his next words come softer, “but, i reckon it’s also kinda cute, i’ll give ya that.”
flustered and irritated all at once, you reach up, grabbing his ear and tugging it, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment flooding through you. “cut it out, you idiot.” your face burns with frustration and a whole lot of confusion about why his teasing is driving you crazy.
thank aeons the closet is dim, because you have no idea what more he’ll tease you about if he sees the heat flooding your cheeks, or worse, if he knows it’s his words —or rather, his actions —that’s causing it.
you hear shouts from outside, the voices muffled but unmistakable. “nothing here, move on! we’ll scout the next area!” one of them calls out, the sound gradually fading as they move further away.
you let out a soft exhale, your posture relaxing as you shift slightly. “looks like we’re clear."
“we are, so how 'bout ya let go of my ear now, sugarplum?”
rolling your eyes, you do your best to ignore the way your pulse is still quickening. “fine, let’s just get out of here before they come back.”
curse that damnable, cocky grin that makes your heart race in ways you wish it didn’t.
boothill seems to know exactly what you're thinking as he leans in, patting his hat down onto your head. "whaddya blushin’ for? can't handle a lil’ close quarters?" he hums.
"shut up, boothill," you mutter, trying to sound annoyed, but even you can tell it’s less convincing than you'd like.
“alright, alright, ain't no time to be standin' round lookin' pretty.” he drawls, backing away slightly, but his eyes never leave yours. “let's get movin', before them ipc shirtbags change their minds and come back lookin’ for us.”
MASTERLIST ; EVENT M.LIST
#✧renwrites!#VEILEDFANTASIA!#—stellaronhvnters.#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill x y/n#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai starrail x reader#star rail x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail x you#hsr x y/n#honkai star rail x y/n#honkai star rail fanfic#hsr fanfic#hsr scenarios#hsr fluff#hsr imagines#honkai starrail#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr boothill#boothill hsr#boothill honkai star rail#honkai star rail boothill#boothill fluff
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Can you make a blurb focusing on the second baby? I don't know something like her needing a moment with Harry or her getting sick
IN SICKNESS & IN HEALTH
——
"Open your mouth, honey."
You obeyed, and Harry gently slid an oral thermometer under your tongue. When you closed your lips around it, the metal tip provided a coolness that briefly offset the fever blazing through your immune system. Frankly, you didn't need an official temperature check to recognize you were fighting a viral infection, but Harry had insisted every aspect of you be monitored closely. He was currently whisking around the bedroom, ensuring you were being doted on like a princess. In your febrile state, where surreal thoughts flowed freely, you wondered if he'd been a doctor in one of his past lives. Those large, veined hands in skin-tight exam gloves. Manspreading on a swivel stool while listening intently to a patient's concerns. Diligent, respectful touches during routine checkups. Was it deranged to be jealous of the faceless people in your fever-induced fantasy? Maybe. All you knew was that it heated your body even more.
A bout of rigors had roused you in the middle of the night, which left you violently shivering in Harry's embrace. While semi-conscious, you had thought nothing of it. Hours later, after miraculously falling asleep in a cocoon of two thick blankets plus a heated one, you had awoken in a pool of sweat with a fever on the horizon. Now, in the early morning darkness, there was no choice but to try to break it. You had plenty of fluids nearby, comfy pillows for your heavy limbs, and a husband who was at your beck and call. And best of all, the sleep-aid medication you had taken earlier was working wonderfully.
After a silent minute of Harry staring at you sympathetically with his knuckles pressed against your unusually warm forehead, the thermometer beeped. He took it out, and when he read the result, a frown appeared on his lips.
"Am I dying?" you asked hoarsely, your eyelids drooping shut. Every part of you felt weak with exhaustion. The sinus pressure was a sucker punch whenever you moved your head.
"One hundred point seven degrees. Not good." Harry sighed and quickly left the bedroom on a mission to cure your symptoms. You laughed a little, which turned into a wheezy cough. The only real cure was rest and hydration, so you were curious what his magical remedy could consist of.
Distantly, you heard sounds in the kitchen. Cupboards shutting and utensils clinking. Was he making something? Your illness diminished any appetite for breakfast. Granted, it was five in the morning, not the typical time you ate.
The girls were still sleeping, and in the intimate shadows before dawn, when only you and Harry were awake, it felt like the old days. Back when you'd kiss him goodbye in his one-room apartment before he left for work earlier than any man had a right to do. Young, scraping by, and smitten with each other. He'd shown you what infatuation felt like. In those otherwise minor moments, you'd seen glimpses of the promising years ahead. A man who'd be devoted to healing your wounds during every tribulation life presented. A gentle presence, full of pure intentions, tender love, and perceptiveness. And all of it had translated beautifully into marriage and fatherhood.
You drifted off with sweet thoughts prancing around your mind. An hour later, Harry returned. The subtle scent of ginger and garlic lured you back into consciousness. By the foot of the bed, he held a bowl of soup, and you sniffled while sitting up. A dizzying rush of blood pulsed against your skull.
"I want you to eat this and drink an entire glass of water before sleeping," Harry ordered, rounding the bed to your side. He set the bowl on the nightstand, steam wispily wafting up toward the amber lamplight. You decided not to tell him you already indulged in a snooze.
"Copy that, Dr. Styles," you said. Soup for breakfast? Sure, why not?
He met your gaze, unhumored. "I'm serious. The ginger will hopefully soothe your throat. There's lemon juice in it for some vitamin C. Red lentils for a protein boost. Let me know if it isn't savory enough."
You smiled to yourself, knowing he thrived off refining his culinary creations until they were nothing short of excellence. "I'm sure it's perfect. Thank you."
"It might be too hot to eat yet," he said, fluffing the pillow beside you and pulling the comforter further up your legs. "Can I get you anything else? Where's your cold compress?"
"Why are you so worried?" you asked. "You've seen me sick dozens of times."
He placed his hands on his hips, maybe as a way to stop himself from fidgeting. "Doesn't mean I like it. In fact, I hate it."
"It could be worse." You shrugged, thinking of all the times you had held a puke bucket. If you had one thing to feel good about right now, it was that you didn't have food poisoning. Hallelujah.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, the curly ends sticking up among his natural bedhead. "I'm wondering if one of the girls passed it on to you."
"Probably," you murmured. "All kids are germ magnets." Your eldest was currently getting over a cold. No fever, thankfully, just the sniffles and a wet cough that made you wince every time you heard it.
"I should check on them," he said, seeming hesitant to leave you. He gestured to the nightstand. "By the time I get back, I want half that water gone and three spoonfuls of soup in your belly. Okay?"
"Wow, you're a no-nonsense doctor." You picked up the bowl of soup, its warmth spreading across your palms. It smelled deliciously herby. "Mmm, and a very talented chef. Have you ever thought about becoming one?"
Fondly, Harry shook his head with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're strangely vivacious for a woman bedridden with a fever."
"Maybe I just like it when you dote on me," you said candidly. It was often outwardly shown through his actions, like today when he cooked soup from scratch for you and kept track of your symptoms, but his subtle attentiveness was your favorite. As a husband, it was how he would lead you through a crowded room, his hand tightly grasping yours to ensure you never strayed far. How he would carve out time for conversations together, whether they were ones of reminiscence, ones revolving around the future, or ones of harmless banter. How he would touch you with purpose, making you feel safe, adored, and most of all, like the most important person in the world. In public and at home with no one watching. He had chosen you in this life, and you reaped the benefits of his devotion every day.
"Just fulfilling my marriage vows," Harry replied, grabbing the baby monitor and turning to leave. You smiled, set the soup back in its place, and sunk into the mattress, feeling the strong urge to sleep the day away. It would take too much energy to lift a spoon or glass to your mouth, so you disregarded Harry's sensible advice and closed your eyes against the rising sun.
——
Harry took slow steps down the hallway while typing a note on his phone that reminded him what time he had checked your temperature and the unfortunate result of 100.7 degrees. You'd been right about him witnessing you under the weather on many occasions before—from the flu to hangovers to stomach bugs to pregnancy nausea—but it still pained him to see you weak and lethargic. He was doing everything he could to nurse you back to health as soon as possible.
A sound coming from the baby monitor wedged under his armpit stopped him dead in his tracks. He heard a couple of coos, followed by the buildup to a piercing cry that made his heart drop. They weren't the usual cries that his six-month-old baby girl woke him up with. And considering it was still before six a.m., the time she commonly needed a feeding, something was amiss.
Rushing to her nursery, Harry's mind went to the worst-case scenario. Had she escaped her crib? Was there a chance she had hurt herself? It had been nerve-wracking enough transitioning her from sleeping in a bedside bassinet to her own room. Harry feared not being right next to her during the night, but the positive was that it allowed for a smoother bedtime routine—both girls in their separate rooms, away from noise and other distractions. His mantra to help him sleep at night was, They're safe, they're safe, they're safe.
When Harry reached her crib after turning on the ceiling light, he was relieved to see her still there, looking mostly the same as the last instance he checked on her a few hours ago. This time, though, her face was screwed up as she wailed at full volume. She was communicating a need he wasn't sure of yet, and while he prided himself immensely on being able to translate her cries and swoop in with a remedy within seconds, this one was foreign. It alarmed him.
"What's the matter, my love?" He picked her up, and instantly, the answer became clear. The damp spot on her sheets. Her skin warm and clammy to the touch. Her refusal to breastfeed at her usual schedule yesterday. "Oh, no."
He had hoped the infection wouldn't be contagious and spread to everyone in the family. But, like you'd said, kids attracted germs from just about anywhere and anything.
"Please don't tell me you have a fever," Harry whispered, cupping her head and pacing around the room helplessly. "I can't handle all of my girls being sick."
She continued crying, and Harry pinched his eyes shut as he mentally went through a list of how to reliably bring her fever down. The first step was to take her pajamas off—the precious fleece onesie with snowflakes that he'd bought for the winter season. He set her on the changing table and undid the snap fasteners until she was left in only her diaper. The fever was apparent in the way she was flushed from head to toe.
"Let's ask Mommy what to do," Harry murmured to himself. He didn't want to proceed with any remedies without your consent, so he placed his daughter back in his arms and walked out to the hallway. "We'll make it better, I promise."
Unsurprisingly, you were already halfway to where he was, no doubt having heard her crying lasting longer than normal. You looked dog-tired, but the motherly instinct you possessed always overpowered it. "What's going on?" you rasped.
"I think she might have what you have. She sweat through the sheets and is burning up."
Your expression transformed into guilt as you slumped against the wall. "Great."
Harry came closer, bending to meet your eyes. "Hey," he said softly, "don't blame yourself. It's hard to avoid."
"I know, but... I really tried to be careful." You sighed, stroking his daughter's back. "I washed my hands before I touched her. Bathed her twice a day."
"You did everything right, baby," he assured. "She has a tiny immune system that's still developing, so it doesn't take much to catch a bug."
When you didn't respond, he said, "Let me take care of her. You should be in bed resting. Did you do what I asked?"
"No, I fell asleep," you muttered with a rueful wince.
Harry couldn't bear to be disappointed when you looked so miserable. "It's okay." His baby girl released another cry, and he pivoted to the serious matter at hand. "I was going to take her temperature."
You sniffled and rubbed at your forehead, which was probably aching with pressure. "If her temperature is higher than one hundred, we need to call the doctor. For now, open a window and feed her a bottle. If that doesn't cool her down, let me know and we'll try giving her some Tylenol."
Harry nodded. A part of him knew all of this information by heart, but he always sought your advice in these urgent moments. As the old saying went—mother knows best.
He kissed your cheek while gently squeezing your wrist in gratitude, not caring if he got sick—it was inevitable at this point. "Water and soup, please. Then rest."
"I promise."
Heading to the kitchen with a fussy, feverish baby wriggling in his arms, Harry opened the patio door to let the crisp January breeze in. The first streaks of light were brightening the space little by little. He got to work by taking a bottle of breast milk out of the refrigerator. He took her outside on the porch, positioning her in the crook of his arm to feed. To his relief, she latched onto the nipple and began drinking. She recently learned how to hold the bottle by herself, so Harry used the opportunity to get the ear thermometer from the bathroom.
Back outside, he took her temperature on the wicker patio chair. After a few seconds, it gave him a reading of 99.3, which thankfully meant no doctor visit today. Harry could breathe a little easier as he slowly rocked her in his arms, observing her behavior. The milk seemed to help hydrate her and alleviate her distressed cries. Her skin was still warm, and he felt like natural remedies only worked to a certain degree. He planned to give her a dose of medicine before her next nap. It would cure what he couldn't.
Once the bottle was half empty, Harry stepped back inside and closed the door behind him. He was working up a sweat with all this running around the house, but he enjoyed tending to everyone's needs.
He returned to the bedroom. The sunrise's soft glow shed over your frame curled up under the comforter, and he could see that you were awake. Looking at the nightstand, he smiled when he noticed a good portion of your soup and water gone.
"I think she'll be all right," he said quietly, setting the empty baby bottle on the dresser and sitting beside you on the mattress. His daughter whined, but for now, her shrieks were no more. "Just a low-grade fever. We'll keep an eye on it."
You nodded and whispered, "Thank you for everything."
Harry didn't say anything in response. He didn't have to, because this was what a family did—take care of each other in sickness and in health. And he had vowed to do it for a lifetime.
——
#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#dad!harry#dadrry#harry styles au#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#adore-laur#i wrote this while sick 🤧
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When the Finch Tries to Shout
poly!marauders x fem!reader
note ⌇ the Marauders’ playful teasing about your quietness makes you insecure, leading you to try becoming more extroverted and loud. warnings ⌇word count 3.2k, established relationship, misunderstanding, shy/introverted!reader, hurt/comfort, r feels insecure, r’s Hogwarts house is unstated
You sit in the dining hall alongside them. It’s the weekend, a time when the dining hall was a place to hangout, study, or wait a few hours until you had to leave for your train ride. They’re chatting amongst themselves while you listen and observe, occasionally adding a comment or two. All was well, this was how the dynamic between the four of you played out.
It was a good dynamic. With James being the most extroverted, then Sirius, then Remus–and then you. You all respected each other’s personalities, learning how to shift your day around one another’s social battery. You all also tend to comment on each other’s personalities, making jokes and teasing one another. It’s lighthearted, laced with an intent to bring a smile to your face.
But today? It felt different.
As they continued to joke around, something in the air seemed to shift. The teasing, which usually made you smile, felt sharper than usual, like a little poke at your ribs that didn’t feel playful anymore. Sirius was in the middle of a story, gesturing wildly with his hands as he talked, and then his eyes flicked over to you with a mischievous grin.
“Oi, Finch,” he said with a wink, “You know, if you smiled more often, you wouldn’t look like you’ve got your own personal mystery going on. You’re like a bloody riddle wrapped in a frown.”
The words were meant to be playful, but they stung more than they should have. You blinked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite feel genuine. The teasing used to make you laugh, but now it just made you feel... small. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly aware of how your quietness seemed to fill the space in a way that wasn’t as welcome as it used to be.
James, picking up on the slight shift in your mood–though not fully understanding it– leaned forward with a grin. “What’s the matter, love? You’ve gone all quiet on us. Don’t tell me you’ve gone shy again.”
You swallowed, the lump in your throat feeling heavier than usual. The comment was meant to lighten the mood, but instead, it felt like an expectation. Like your silence wasn’t something they were used to anymore—like it was something they were beginning to outgrow.
You didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang in the air. The silence stretched between you all, but it felt different this time. You weren’t sure if it was your own insecurities talking, or if their teasing really had changed, but it left you with a sense of unease. Maybe they didn’t mean to hurt you, but... maybe they were tired of you being quiet.
Nevertheless you gave them a smile and the night went on.
The words lingered in your mind long after you’d returned to your dorm. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every little moment. Have they outgrown your quietness? Did they secretly wish you were louder, more energetic, more like them? A knot twisted in your stomach, your heart growing heavier the more you thought about it.
Your quietness had never bothered you before. It was simply who you were. But now? Now it felt like it was something you had to change, something you had to fix. You rolled over onto your side, pulling the blanket closer around you, but the ache in your chest didn’t go away. You could almost hear their voices in your head again, the teasing that used to be so playful now feeling like a subtle jab at your identity. Maybe they didn’t mean it, but maybe that didn’t matter. It hurt all the same.
By the time the morning light filtered through the windows, you’d made up your mind. You didn’t want to disappoint them. You didn’t want to be the quiet one anymore.
The next morning, when you greeted them, you were all smiles. You waved enthusiastically, laughing at jokes that didn’t quite land as hard as they used to. You talked—a lot. Far more than you usually would, your words tumbling out, faster than you could stop them. You were cheerful, a little too cheerful, acting like everything was just fine. But inside, your heart was burning. You were doing it. You were being louder. You were being more open.
You noticed James raise an eyebrow at your sudden burst of energy, and Sirius gave you a curious glance. But Remus? Remus was the one who watched you closely, his gaze a little too gentle, a little too knowing.
You kept talking, though. You had to. The more you talked, the less time you had to think about it. And the more you smiled, the more you could pretend everything was fine. You could, you could try to pretend it was all fine.
You all wandered through Hogsmeade, the chilly winter air nipping at your cheeks as you led the way. Your steps were light, your voice a little too loud, a little too eager, but you couldn’t stop. You had to keep the act up. You had to keep the energy high, even if it felt like it was slowly draining you from the inside out.
James and Sirius were leading the pack, as usual, their laughter echoing through the streets as they spotted a new magical gadget in one of the nearby shops. They’d be distracted for a while, no doubt. Meanwhile, you found yourself pulling Remus along, a wide grin plastered on your face.
"Oh, look at that!" You pointed to a shop window, bouncing on your toes. "We should go in here, I heard their chocolate frogs have a special edition!" You kept the chatter going, trying to fill the space with noise, hoping the others wouldn’t notice how loud you were talking.
Remus, however, was quiet, his usual calm presence hovering at your side as the others got farther ahead. You could feel his gaze on you, the gentle pressure of his quiet observation weighing on you. After a beat, he leaned toward you, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bustling village.
"You know, you don’t have to do this. We love you as you are, dove." His tone was soft, concerned, his words carrying a quiet weight you weren’t ready to hear.
You laughed a little too loudly, trying to mask the sudden rush of nervous energy that had flooded your chest. "Whatever do you mean?" You flashed him a smile that felt like a mask, wide and bright but not quite reaching your eyes. "I’m just excited, that’s all! Isn’t it a great day?"
You kept walking, forcing the words to tumble out, your gaze darting from one shop to the next, looking anywhere but at him. Remus didn’t move, though. He kept pace beside you, his hand casually brushing against yours as if offering comfort, but you weren’t sure if you could let him in just yet. Not with the way your heart was pounding, the way you were desperately trying to fill the space with something—anything—to make it seem like you were okay.
Remus sighed quietly, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything more. "I’ve been here before, you know," you added, forcing a playful tone, "Hogsmeade’s not exactly new to me." You laughed again, the sound coming out more hollow than you intended. "I think I’m getting pretty good at this tour guide thing, don’t you?"
Remus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, soft and knowing. He wasn’t fooled by your act. But still, he didn’t push, just walked silently by your side, letting the others enjoy their candy-filled distractions.
You could hear James and Sirius in the distance, their voices rising as they discovered some new magical candy that they were already arguing over. But despite the noise around you, it felt like there was a quiet tension between you and Remus that hadn’t been there before. The pressure of trying to be something you weren’t... trying to be someone else.
You told yourself you could handle it. You could keep the smile up, but you’re not sure how much longer. How long could you keep it up? How long should you? Until they’ve accepted you as being ‘one of them?’
The Gryffindor common room was full of life, laughter spilling out from every corner. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, and students were sprawled out on couches, some chatting about the latest gossip, others buried in their books or playing games. You, of course, were doing your best to engage, even though your social battery was drained beyond belief. The effort of keeping up with everything was wearing on you, but you didn’t want to seem like the odd one out. You didn’t want to be the quiet one in the corner, especially with your partners—James, Sirius, and Remus—sitting nearby.
They were laughing and teasing each other, as usual, their energy contagious. James and Sirius were as loud and energetic as always, while Remus sat back, watching, offering quiet commentary here and there. You found comfort in their presence, even if it made you more acutely aware of your own lack of energy.
Your attempts to match their enthusiasm were wearing thin. Every time you laughed a little too loudly or tried to jump into the conversation, it felt forced. You could feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, but you shoved it aside, determined to keep up the appearance of being just as talkative, just as carefree. You didn’t want them to think you were being distant or boring.
As you sat with the group, chatting with a couple of Gryffindor girls you had started to bond with, the conversation turned to teasing—just lighthearted fun, nothing new. But when one of the girls, Iris, leaned in with a mischievous grin, you had no idea that it was about to spiral.
“Alright, Finch,” Iris said, nudging you with her elbow, “I dare you to ask one of your boyfriends a question. Something... interesting.”
Your eyes widened as the attention of the group immediately shifted to you. You knew she meant well, but your heart raced at the thought. James, Sirius, and Remus were right there, their attention now on you, waiting for your response. You didn’t want to be shy or boring in front of them—especially when they were all so full of life. You had to keep up the act.
“Come on, you’ve been so chatty tonight,” Iris pressed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Ask something… interesting.”
You glanced at the Marauders. James and Sirius were grinning, egging you on, clearly amused by the dare-like request. Remus, always the more reserved one, watched you with a small smile, but there was an unreadable expression in his eyes.
You had to do this. You couldn’t back down now. If you did, it would look like you were too quiet, too shy, too... boring. You had to show them that you were capable of this, that you could play along.
Without thinking too much, you stood up, trying to look casual as you walked over to where James was lounging on the couch, his usual grin plastered on his face. Sirius leaned against the wall nearby, watching you curiously.
“Alright,” you said, the words coming out a little louder than intended. You tried to smile, but it felt tight. “James, if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
James blinked, clearly surprised by the question. He looked at you for a moment, then broke into laughter.
“What kind of question is that?” He chuckled, leaning back against the armrest. “I don’t know, I’d probably go with butterbeer or something stupid like that.”
The group laughed along with him, but there was an awkwardness in the air. You forced a chuckle, hoping it didn’t show that you were feeling a little embarrassed by the whole thing. It wasn’t a bad question—it just wasn’t the one you had intended to ask. You were trying to be funny, trying to fit in, but it felt like the whole room was watching, and you could feel every eye on you, waiting for the punchline, waiting for you to get it right.
You smiled again, though it didn’t feel as genuine this time. The laughter faded quickly, and you could sense the shift in the atmosphere. It wasn’t that they were laughing at you, but the attention felt uncomfortable now. You had forced the moment, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d made it weird.
You glanced at Remus, hoping for a familiar, comforting smile—but all you saw was a concerned look on his face. He wasn’t laughing like James and Sirius were. He was watching you, his brow furrowed just slightly, as though he was trying to figure something out.
“You okay, love?” he asked softly, but the words felt too loud, too much in the quiet that had fallen around you.
You cleared your throat and nodded quickly, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine..” You laughed, but it was full of exhaustion. You could feel the walls of the common room closing in on you, the weight of everyone’s attention suddenly too much to bear.
Before anyone could say anything else, you turned away and walked briskly toward the door, your pulse racing. The chatter around you faded into background noise as your mind spiraled.
James called after you, but you didn’t stop. Sirius’s voice followed, but it was distant now, as you pushed through the door and into the hallway. You needed air. You needed to be alone. You had to escape the eyes, the whispers. The room had been too much, everything was too much.
You didn’t hear Remus’s footsteps behind you until they were just a few paces away. You could feel him catching up, but you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t face him now—not when your chest felt like it was going to burst.
“Finch, wait.” His voice was soft, but firm.
You didn’t look back, your eyes fixed ahead as you continued walking, your breath shaky. You tried to ignore the burn in your throat, the tightness in your chest. You couldn’t hold up the act anymore. You couldn’t pretend to be someone you weren’t.
But you heard him behind you, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
“You don’t have to keep pretending,” Remus said quietly, his voice full of concern. “You don’t have to act extroverted if it’s not you. We love you the way you are.”
You froze. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart ache. You didn’t want them to see you this way—weak, insecure, struggling to fit into a mold that didn’t suit you.
But Remus was right. You didn’t need to prove anything.
You turned to face him, your smile forced once more. “I know. I’m fine.”
But the words didn’t sound convincing, even to yourself. Remus didn’t buy it. He took a step closer, placing a gentle hand on your arm.
“But you’re not. Finch, it’s okay to be quiet. It’s okay to not always be the loud one. We love you just the way you are.”
You bit your lip, and a tear threatened to spill, but you quickly blinked it away. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear that until now. You were trying so hard to keep up, but they loved you quiet, too.
You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Remus offered a small, reassuring smile.
“Let’s get you back to the dorm,” he said softly. “You don’t need to keep up the silly little act anymore.”
You nodded, allowing him to lead you back toward the warmth of the common room, hoping that you could start to relax, even if just a little bit. As you walked side by side, the exhaustion of the night started to catch up with you, the effort to be someone you weren’t suddenly feeling pointless. You had been trying to be louder, more outgoing, all because you thought the teasing about being quiet and shy meant you weren’t enough. You had overthought it, convinced yourself that your quietness was something to change. Then Remus’s words, his understanding, grounded you yet again.
When you reached the door to the dorm, James and Sirius appeared in the hallway, glancing between the two of you. They didn’t need to say anything right away—just their presence made you feel a little lighter.
James broke the silence, his usual grin replaced by something more serious, softer. “Everything okay?”
Sirius, too, was watching you, his arms crossed but his expression warm, full of concern. You offered them both a small, honest smile.
“I’m fine,” you replied. “Just needed a minute.” You didn’t want to hide it, the fact that you’d been struggling all night, trying to act like someone you weren’t. You couldn’t hold the facade anymore.
James’s eyes softened, and he gave you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “You know you don’t have to act different around us, right? We love you as you are. Quiet or loud, doesn’t matter.”
Sirius nodded, his voice carrying the usual teasing edge but with sincerity underneath. “Exactly. We’re not expecting you to be loud to make us like you. You don’t have to be anything other than you.”
Your chest tightened, but it was in a good way, like a weight was lifting. The insecurity that had been gnawing at you all night, the thought that you had to be louder to belong—finally started to fade. You hadn’t realized how deeply it had affected you until now. The teasing, the joking about your quietness... it made you feel like you weren’t enough. You’d overthought it, thinking your silence was something to fix, something that would push them away.
But standing here with the three of them, their words washing over you, you knew they meant it. You didn’t need to pretend to be anything else.
You looked up at them, the weight on your shoulders finally easing.
“I know,” you said softly, your voice steady now. “I just... I kept thinking that because I was quieter, I wasn’t enough.”
Remus gave you a soft smile, one full of understanding. James grinned at you, ruffling your hair in that familiar, affectionate way. Sirius, ever the mischief-maker, leaned in with a wink.
“Well, we love you the way you are, Finch,” Sirius said, teasing but gentle. “You’re not boring, not by a long shot. You don’t need to be loud to make us like you.”
James nodded in agreement. “You’re perfect just as you are. So no more pretending. We’ve got you, yeah love?”You felt your chest finally release the breath it had been holding. You didn’t need to prove anything. You didn’t need to be louder, or more outgoing. The way you were—quiet, thoughtful, and you—was enough. They loved you exactly as you were, and that was all that mattered.
#marauders#marauders fanfic#marauders fic#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders x fem!reader#marauders x you#harry potter#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fic#harry potter marauders#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly marauders x fem!reader#poly marauders x you#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x you#sirus x reader#sirius x reader#sirius x fem!reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you
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Sell-out
Pairing: QZ!Joel x f!reader
Summary: After a smuggler Joel and Tess were working with didn’t pay for his end of the deal, Joel captures his girlfriend, you. Tired of your boyfriend’s scheming ways, you decide to use the situation to your advantage.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, captivity, mentions of m!oc, cheating, darkish!Joel, dubcon (power imbalance, eventual consent), oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics
A/N: Happy New Year! Decided to do something different for this one-shot and I'm excited to put it out there because I personally love reading these types of stories and I've been writing this for a while. I appreciate any feedback and enjoy these messy characters! :)
masterlist
The first thing you feel waking up is sharp pain coming from the back of your head. You move your arm to inspect it, but the weight of chains stops you, clanging against the hard floor. You quickly open your eyes to see where you are.
The room you’re in is wide, brick walls of it covered with graffiti, holding a network of pipes. You... You know this place. You’ve seen it from outside of the abandoned warehouse near the QZ, waiting for your boyfriend Lucien to finish up meeting with his smuggling crew. You always hated the types of guys coming here and the way he’d try to fit in with them, mimicking them without noticing. Most of the time, though, you’d bear with it because his line of work brought in the resources. To him and to you. This has to be the shadiest place in a wide perimeter, and it smells like it; of sweat, dried blood and rusted metal.
You raise your arms slightly and turn to look at them. There’s a pull of the heavy metal again. You see chains tied around your wrists, locked around a metal pipe. You don’t remember any of this happening, much less getting here. Your mind runs a mile an hour, trying to find an answer to the burning question – why the hell are you here tied up?
Heavy and intent footsteps grow louder until you see a big wooden door open. Your eyes widen as you see who comes out, his bearded face and stern expression unmistakable. He leans on a small metal table, staring you down. Joel fucking Miller.
Of course you know who Joel Miller is. Along with Tess, he’s one of the most notorious smugglers in the Boston QZ, feared by even the toughest of brutes. Tess is the brains, Joel is the muscle. They worked with Lucien on his most recent deal and... Oh, shit. You know why you’re here.
His expression is nonchalant, except for a subtle scowl. “Finally. You’re awake.”
You look him straight in the eye, trying not to show the fear bubbling in your stomach. You curse yourself as a tremble in your voice betrays it. “Why am I here?”
He grins darkly at the tremble in your voice, satisfied with his plan to intimidate you. “You know why you’re here.”
Of course you do. This isn’t the first time Lucien’s sleazy tactics backfired on him, yet he always thought he knew better than you. Didn’t want to listen to your advice and did as he pleased. Now you’re the one captured for it.
You decide in a split second you’ll pretend you have no idea. “No, I don’t.”
“Liar.” He says menacingly.
“What do you want?” You get annoyed and struggle against the chains.
“No use strugglin’. You’ll just hurt yourself. And I want my share.” He walks around as he speaks, heavy boots stomping on the concrete floor. You have to resist the urge to flinch at every one of his steps. “Thought you were so smart, double-crossing me and Tess.”
You glare at him, determined not to let him sense your fear. “Me? I’m not a smuggler.”
He smirks. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re Lucien’s arm candy.”
You know what he’s doing. Trying to coax an answer out of you by implying your only use is standing still and looking pretty. You won’t fall for it. You tilt your head. “Forgot you’re Tess’s muscle.”
You see a flicker of annoyance pass him at the quip before he composes himself. “The muscle could snap you in half.”
You keep glaring up at him. “Good thing. Nothing else going for you.”
He comes closer and kneels in front of you, his shadow looming over your frame. “You’re makin’ this a whole lot harder on yourself.”
You keep eye contact as he comes closer to you, his breath hitting your face, your breath speeding up from adrenaline and... His proximity. He’s so close you can smell his musk mixed with gun powder. God, not him. Not right now. You swallow.
He smirks. “What? Cat ate your tongue?”
You struggle to think as your skin warms up slightly, making part of you not want to leave. Looking away from him towards the floor, you shake out of it. The chains are tied to the pipe with a lock. If you’re lucky and he hasn’t thought this through, he could be keeping the keys to the lock somewhere on him. Joel wouldn’t, but it’s worth a try. You could also convince him to let you go. You’ve talked your way out of worse, and Joel is a pragmatic man. If you figure out what he wants, you stand a chance.
After a few seconds of running through this in your head, you have a plan of action. “I can give you your share.”
He leans a bit away to check your facial expression, determine if you’re deceptive. “Yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah. It was a stupid idea, and I told him that. You should be made up for your struggle.” You try to keep your expression flat, playing up the “you deserve compensation” card.
He hums, smiling slyly. “You’re good. Can’t tell if you’re lyin’.”
“Well, I’m telling the truth.” You huff, genuinely annoyed this time at the predicament you’re in because of your boyfriend. “So how about we cut a deal and you get me out of these?” You raise your arms as much as the chains tying them on your back will allow.
He raises his eyebrow. “You’re takin’ this way better than I thought.”
You roll your eyes. “Not used to people coming in to save me.”
He shrugs and nods. “See...” He gets up slowly from his crouching position, walking around again. “I could cut you a deal.” He stops and looks you over, his eyes scanning your body slowly, like a predator deciding whether to play with its prey or finish the hunt. “Ain’t sure you’re gonna like it, though.”
Relief, intrigue and a bit of fear are swirling in your chest. Your voice cracks but you compose it quickly. “Go ahead. Shoot.”
He comes closer to you and crouches again, stroking your cheek with no emotion in his eyes, searching yours for any signs of discomfort. Chills prickle your skin and you’re not sure if you want to bite your lip to hold back your reactions or to spur him on. You refrain from it.
You should move to stop him. But it’s as if his gaze is keeping you in place, looking into your very soul.
“This is about sendin’ a message.” He strokes your cheek with his knuckles, the roughness of his calloused hand pleasant against your soft skin. “So you can tell me where you keep everythin’ you own, or...” He bites his lip, his eyes closing slightly with lust. “We can do somethin’ else.”
You’re breathing heavily, you heart beating quickly in your chest, leaning against the wall to get as much distance as you can from him in a desperate attempt to think clearly.
All of Lucien and your resources or... Whatever Joel’s up to? You don’t like this. You’re cornered. As much as you’re intrigued by the latter, you have a sinking feeling in your gut you’ll be forced to do it anyway. You frown in resignation.
You turn back to Joel, your tongue on your teeth in anger. “What else?” You spit out.
He smirks, aware of his position, taking his hand off your cheek. “You’re a smart girl. ’M sure you’ll figure it out.”
Thinking of your next move, you look at him frustrated. You lunge and bite the front of his shirt, keeping him in place as you try to will your chained hands to move to his jean pockets and look for the key.
He scoffs in frustration and shakes you off, pinning your shoulders against the wall. “Goddamnit-“
You slam against the wall, scowling at him.
He keeps you pinned and scoffs. “Oh, c’mon.” He smiles slyly, running his finger down the pulse point on your neck. “Afraid you’ll like it?” He leans in and whispers in your ear, his lips lightly grazing the shell of it. “You already do.”
You hate him with a fiery passion. You hate the invisible pull between you two and the way your breath is quickening.
He keeps whispering. “Smart girl. Sharp as a whip. Bet he doesn’t know how to handle ya.” He runs his hands down your sides, stoking the fire lit in you.
Your eyes shut slightly on their own accord, the sensation in your core pleasant. He’s flattering you, using your vanity against you as if he’s reading into your mind.
“I could make good use of you.” He whispers, his breath hitting your ear. “In a lotta ways.” His words are seductive, but you sense a deeper meaning. He sees tangible value in your calculating mind and survival instincts.
You should resist him. Use any tactic you can think of and try to run. But you’re curious about what he could do to you. You like the thought, and your body’s betraying you too, heat pooling low.
You’re also curious about the vision of Joel treating you like an equal. Tess is his partner in crime and you’re not sure how you’d fit in the picture. Yet, desperation for recognition Lucien never gave you lets you think wishfully for a fleeting moment. Does thinking like this make you a traitor? Weak willed? A sell-out? What devastates you is you’re not sure Lucien would care for this more than losing his supplies.
There’d likely be hell to pay either way. Hell with Joel seems like the lesser one.
So you entertain Joel. You bite your lip and turn to him slightly as you whisper. “Bet you could.”
He slowly pulls away from your ear and smiles slyly. “You’re comin’ around.”
You return his sly smile with your own. “Are you gonna make good on your promise?”
He leans in, his lips inches from yours, an invitation for you to close the distance. “You bet.”
You look down at his lips, corners of your mouth crooked into a smug smile. Temptation rises in you, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. And a flame will it be when Lucien finds out.
You lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back searingly, full of pent up aggression and desire, biting your lip softly. You moan at the slight sting, both getting lost in this desperate and carnal moment, mouth to mouth, no more space for thinking. His tongue finds your lower lip, asking for access. You grant it instantly, opening your mouth to let him explore it. You catch his tongue with yours and they glide against each other in a slow dance.
Moaning, you pull away. He grunts slightly at the loss of your lips on his. There’s a certain question in the way you look at him now that he can’t answer; how far is this going? He’s swept away in the tide of his arousal and letting it guide him.
He gets up and puts his hand on your chin, lifting it and tapping it as he speaks commandingly. “On your knees.”
You blink a few times in surprise and swallow your pride before you get up on your knees, tugging at the cold chains as you shift from your sitting position. Your core is fluttering even as you’re feeling like uncertainty is pressing down on your chest.
He smirks at your current position and tilts your head up, nudging you softly with his words. “Open wide. C’mon.”
You lick your lips as you look up at him with an expression juxtaposing what you’re feeling. Ready. In too deep, you’re seeing this through, letting him take you through the unknown. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
“Eager for me, huh?” He strokes your chin tenderly, like you’re something to be handled carefully. “Good girl.”
You smile smugly with your eyes, keeping your mouth open, the last shreds of your restraint keeping you from giving fully into him.
The sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes through the warehouse interior. He slides it off, pulling down his jeans. You get a good look at the bulge straining against his boxers. God, he seems big. A bit of worry of you’ll fit him in your mouth comes over you.
He just grins at your hesitant frown and reaches for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. His length is bobbing on his abdomen, red and angry, already leaking precum. You instinctively tilt your head and bite your lip at the sight. His bulge didn’t fool you about his size, and of course it’s as demanding and manly as the rest of him.
He looks at you sternly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”
He’s taunting your doubts, and you might agree with the sentiment. You want to be so full of him you can’t think. You lick up the drops leaking from his slit, looking up at him with wide, pliant eyes.
He strokes the back of your head, sucking in a breath. “There we go.” He grips your hair and pulls you in the direction of his cock. You wrap your mouth around his tip, swirling your tongue, before you push in deeper.
He grunts. He grips your hair, his eyes shutting slightly at the sensation of your warm mouth. “Just like that, baby. So good.” He pats your cheek with his other hand.
You bob your head, setting up a steady pace. You inhale his musk as you take him in deeper each time.
He’s a mess of grunts and low moans. He grips your hair with both hands and starts thrusting into you with abandon. He hits the back of your throat and even as you gag, you close your eyes and moan, the vibration pleasant on his cock. He lit up a wildfire inside you. At this point, you’re helpless to stop it.
Even in his haze, he’s making sure to hold your head securely to keep you from falling backwards. He lets out a groan as he bucks into you, struggling to speak. “Takin’ me so well. You like chokin’ on it?”
You moan in approval. You’re getting off on being tied up and used like this, the ache in your core becoming almost unbearable. So intent on doing whatever he wants, you don’t care if it gets eased.
“’M not sure how long I can last.” He pulls out of your mouth slowly, the saliva stream connecting your mouth with his cock as he does. You open your eyes, looking up at him half-lidded, close to being completely spent. He strokes your cheek, scared he’s hurt you. “You okay?” His voice is tinged with warmth you didn’t expect.
You nod as you look into his hazel eyes, still devoid of emotion but attentive in their own way, glimpses of the man he must have been before the world hardened him.
“Where d’you want me?” He keeps stroking your cheek with his thumb.
“I want you inside me.” There’s almost a desperation in the way you look up at him, not sure if it’s for him to slide into you or to keep him giving these small crumbs of attention.
He nods as his gaze skims over your body slowly. As if he just remembered something, he stops in consideration. He orders, slight irritation at this thought ruining his fun in his voice. “Turn around.”
You narrow your eyes questioningly and hesitantly turn around to face the wall. Gripping your arm, he unties the chains around your wrists. Relief and confusion come over you. Is he going to...?
He is. You recognize the sound of keys clinking behind you before he turns the key in the lock keeping the chains to the pipe. The chains fall to the floor with a loud clang. You finally move your arms, sore and chafed by them, rubbing the marks.
Why would he let you go before you get to the good part? Wait... Guess there are invisible lines Joel won’t cross. As much as he liked the power he had over you, he wants you to have a choice in this. To know you’re doing this on your own accord, not to escape, not fearing for your life. This is just his test of that. He stands behind you for a few moments, gauging your reaction, watching whether you’re preparing to flee.
As you stand with your arms free, all your instincts tell you to run. But where to? Back in the arms of the boyfriend who makes you fear his betrayal every single day? It’s only a matter of time before his backstabbing tendencies are turned on you, you think.
To be fair, Joel is not the most reliable man to turn to next, but you decide to explore what has transpired between you further.
You turn around and look at him, his bulge still straining against his pulled up jeans, tilting your head and smiling knowingly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”
“Good. Thought you’d try to run.” He grins and nods, and you can see relief clearly painted on his face. “Woulda been a shame.” His voice takes on a lower and more confident tone.
He grabs your arms and moves you to the patch of brick beside the pipe you were locked to, pinning you to it. Your faces are close together and now you’re both smiling like two teenagers sneaking off to do something forbidden. He slides his tongue into your mouth again as you open it eagerly. You kiss briefly before his fingers slip past the waistband of your jeans inside your panties. He hums. “Already wet for me, aren’t you?”
You nod as you exhale in pleasure. “So wet.”
He parts your folds with his finger, not pushing in, just teasing. “Let’s see how wet you can get...”
Your core is throbbing and his touch keeps making it worse. Leaning your head back against the wall, you sigh. “Oh God...”
He smiles slyly as his fingers find your clit, rubbing teasingly. “Lucky bastard, Lucien... Gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about him.”
You look at Joel in surprise at mentioning him, too worked up to care at this point, perhaps even tempered by the anger and resentment you harbor for Lucien. Too late to turn back anyway, you think you like the way this is sticking it to him. A subtle sly smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.
He takes his hand out of your jeans and begins undoing the button and zipper on them. As he does, your chest is rapidly rising and falling and you feel the heat spreading through your body, consuming you. You clutch onto his belt, undoing it once more along with his jeans and boxers. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down.
He taps the head of his cock to your clit, your arousal mixing. You move your hips instinctively for him to push in, but he makes sure to torment you for a moment longer, tapping it against you again.
“Joel...” You whine.
“You want it? I wanna hear you.” He pushes in just the head of his cock, closing his eyes in pleasure.
“Yes! Yes, I want it so badly. Please...” Before you’re even done begging, Joel can’t take it anymore and pushes all the way in. In one rough stroke, he’s fully inside you. Your breath’s almost knocked out and a slight sting from his size quickly turns into pleasure.
He stills for a moment, letting you adjust. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
He slides out of you a bit before he slams back in. He sets a ruthless pace, each thrust pushing your hips to the wall and hitting deep inside of you. You lean against the cold brick, your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded, moaning. It’s almost animalistic, the way you’re both losing your bearings in this dirty warehouse.
“Atta girl. Take all of me.” He picks up speed as he presses closer to you, taking your nipple between his fingers through your shirt and pinching it, his voice husky and low. “Who’s fucking you harder than he ever did?”
“You, Joel.” The words come out of you without even thinking about them.
He grins proudly. “Damn right.” His hand reaches for your thigh, raising it slightly so it’s wrapped around his waist. The angle he’s thrusting at changes and you feel him hitting that delicious spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Now you’re a mess of gasps and moans.
He pounds into you relentlessly. “’M close. Gonna fill you up full of me.”
Too deep into the blissed out haze, you moan and nod, only thinking about how good it will feel. And it does. He buries his face in your shoulder as he fills you, hot pulses of his thick release pumped deep inside you. His cock is throbbing inside you as he empties himself. The sensations send you over the edge, and you lean your head back and moan as waves of pleasure crash over you.
He stays like that for a while as you both catch your breath. Sated and wrapped up around him, you close your eyes, coming down from the high. The tension from your initial meeting has dissolved, leaving you both light and boneless. You wrap your fingers in his hair, stroking it as he tries to gather his bearings.
There is not much to say after what’s already said and done, besides the question making your chest tighten as you both put your clothes back on. Is Joel going to brag to Lucien about this, more so – was this kind of payback his plan all along?
Something in your stomach twists at the thought that you were a pawn Joel successfully used in his game, but you don’t regret the way this has forced you out of the convenience of being by Lucien’s side.
As you zip up your jeans, your gaze falls back on Joel’s questioning expression. He can tell you’re lost in thought.
“Will you tell Lucien about this?” You say it with more bite than you intended, angry at the thought of being used.
He considers your question then shakes his head. “Won’t if you don’t want me to.” He grins. “Reckon it’s not my style anyway.”
Exhaling in relief and amusement, you nod. “Alright.” Your legs are sore as you head for the steel doors of the warehouse.
He raises his eyebrow at your abrupt exit and calls out. “We gonna see each other again?” He wants to, you can tell by his tone.
You turn around on your way out and contemplate whether you want to see him again. You connected physically but you feel like connecting emotionally with Joel would be an endless chase of something never to be caught. You’re so drawn to him. You don’t want to go. But you tilt your head as you answer bluntly with a smile. “No.”
He shrugs indifferently as the steel sliding door grinds while you open it. “Probably for the best.”
#qz!joel#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#qz!joel miller#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#female reader#joel miller smut#tlou fic#tlou smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel the last of us
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pretty pet • nct 127
as the newest and youngest member of 127, it’s perfectly natural for them to want to take care of you. probably not like this, though.
requested by anon
pairing: johnny/jaehyun/mark/haechan/yuta x f!reader
word count: 4k
hate is deleted and blocked
warnings: oh boy um, a little dubcon, definitely questionable behaviour from the neos, dom!127 x sub!reader, corruption kink, virginity loss, unprotected sex, orgy, vaginal/oral sex, a few slaps, praise and degradation, innocence kink, corruption, implied LEGAL age gap (reader is around 20), sort of manipulation, size kink, power imbalance kind of, probably more but those are the big ones
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you’d been at SM since 2018, and it was starting to feel hopeless. you’d improved quickly, and by 2020 they were telling you you were ready to debut, but it just… didn’t happen. they’d let you get your hopes up that you’d debut with aespa— no dice. then there’d been talk of another girl group, which had quickly proved to be just that: talk. you were beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen, or if you’d be better off leaving instead of wasting another six years of your life, when you were summoned to the CEO’s office.
you couldn’t believe what you were hearing— they needed a new member for nct. they wanted something different. they wanted you.
you’d sat there with your jaw agape, unsure how to respond. you? in a… boy group? that boy group? you’d never even met the nct members; the closest you’d ever gotten was when mark had accidentally walked into your practice room instead of his— and his exclamation of “oh shit” before quickly shutting the door was the only time you’d heard any of their voices in real life. and now you were supposed to be in a group with them?
everything was arranged within the hour; gathering this was most likely your last chance to debut before they decided you were too old to bother with, you put your inhibitions aside and agreed. you signed the contract, shook their hands and were making to head back to the trainee dormitories when they’d stopped you— “all your things are in the 127 dormitory,” they told you. you almost laughed; you should’ve figured that they weren’t exactly asking.
you were beyond nervous to meet them; they’d been famous and, more importantly, best friends for eight years— how were you supposed to fit in with them? did they even want you there? not to mention how the fans would react— but that was a problem for a different day.
the first problem, though, quickly proved to be a non-issue; they were beyond welcoming, and quickly took you under their wing. it’s only natural, you supposed— the newest member, completely inexperienced and younger even than the dream members, it’s not surprising they took to you so easily, and were so gentle and nurturing while they showed you the ropes. it was only natural.
to a point.
the signs were there, really; the way they’d looked you up and down before looking at your face. the way their hands lingered on your waist just a few seconds too long when they hugged you for the first time. the affection they showed you that they swore was normal between all of them, but seemed to have… a little more intention behind it. and the way they praised you when you did something well— learning a dance move, hitting a note, remembering a line. “good girl,” they’d purr, cupping your face with a smile. “such a good listener.” perhaps somewhere, deep down, something in you told you this was beyond the caring, concerned members of a group welcoming their newest member. but it was far too deep to notice— buried beneath the heaps of praise and attention they showered you with. until it wasn’t. until it became too obvious to ignore.
yuta was the first one you really noticed. looking back, he was never really subtle; you saw the way he looked at you from the start— the intensity of his gaze, the way he’d swallow thickly, jaw tense when you walked through the living room in your thin summer pyjamas. he was friendly, like the others, but the way he’d find every excuse to touch you, to pull you into his arms, to snake his arm around your waist during practice and whisper in your ear about how good you’re being— was just over the line of excusable. yet you excused it.
maybe you were desperate to fit in with the group. maybe you wanted to prove yourself as an open, reliable member. maybe you loved the way their praises sounded; the warmth of their touches on your waist and thighs. whatever the reason, you never once protested— never once questioned it. even as the other members became increasingly obvious in their participation, and increasingly bold in their claim of you.
it was a few weeks in that it happened. mark had brought home a case of beer and a few bottles of soju— “we always do this, babe,” he’d said. “helps us bond when we drink together, you know?” and you’d nodded, of course; the last thing you wanted to do was question or upset the balance and routine of the group. you still felt very much like an outsider, an intruder, and you wanted to prove you could belong here— to yourself, as much as to them. it was just 6 of you tonight— johnny, jaehyun, mark, haechan and yuta, surrounding you like predators as much as protectors.
looking back, you should have realised then. you should have realised when they’d sat down in a circle, johnny shuffling next to you— “to make sure you don’t get too drunk,” he’d said. “oldest looking after the youngest.” you should have realised when he got closer and closer until, just when you were crossing the line between tipsy and drunk, he pulled you into his lap completely. you should have realised when the first game haechan suggested was ‘never have i ever’. and if not then, then you definitely should have realised when the first question they asked was never have i ever had sex.
you watched them all drink, grinning at each other as they downed the liquid. johnny adjusted you in his arms slightly to allow him to pick up his bottle and take a swig. when their expectant gazes turned to you, you could do nothing but blush. “i—”
if you’d been brave enough to look up, or sober enough to see clearly, you’d have seen the looks on their faces that were unlike anything you’d seen before— shocked, affected, protective. feral. they couldn’t believe it. no one had ever touched you. you were as pure and unsullied as you seemed— theirs for the taking.
“you’ve really,” jaehyun started, voice thick and catching in his throat, “never had sex?”
you shrugged, blushing deeper. “i was, like, 14 or 15 when i joined the company,” you mumbled. “they don’t really— i never had that sort of freedom, as a trainee. or the time.” you were beyond embarrassed, your face surely the reddest it’s ever been. you were certain they were judging you right now; laughing silently at you but too polite to show it. a room full of grown men and you, the only girl, the newest, youngest member, had proven yourself to be even less mature than you already knew they thought you were. you waited for someone to break; to laugh at you or mock you or finally admit that you didn’t belong here after all.
but they didn’t. no one said anything. johnny’s grip on your waist tightened.
“wow,” mark finally broke the silence. “that’s— fuck, that’s precious.”
you looked up in time to catch the glare yuta threw at him. “it is?” you asked. “it’s not— it’s not bad?”
“of course it’s not bad,” johnny breathed. his breath was hot on your neck, making you shiver. you felt his smile against your skin as he recognised your sensitivity. “you’re such a good girl, y/n. we always knew it.”
your mouth opened and closed, words lost on you. johnny’s hand found your thigh and gently squeezed the soft flesh. “we’ve been waiting to have someone like you in the group for a long, long time.”
“i—” your voice broke a little, cracking under the weight of their gazes on you. “really?” you squeaked.
a large, warm hand wrapped around your calf. you turned your head, making a noise of surprise, to see jaehyun staring at you with a look in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “really,” he said lowly. his gaze shifted, catching johnny’s for a moment, then returning to you. he squeezed your leg gently. “you’re really something,” he smiled. the tension in his neck as he swallowed thickly told you he wanted to say something else.
tentatively, you reached down to place your hand over jaehyun’s, still resting on your leg. for a moment he seemed surprised — you hadn’t yet been the one to initiate physical contact with them, after all — but his expression quickly morphed into something else. johnny’s fingers dug into your thigh. “whatcha doing, hm?” he whispered in your ear. the low hum of his voice lit fire on your skin. “you like it when we touch you?”
“i…”
“she does,” jaehyun purred. “eager little slut.”
you knew you should be offended— he just called you a slut, after all, a terrible thing to say to anyone. but instead you felt your stomach twist, and an intense, pulsing sensation a little lower. without meaning to, you let out a soft, mewling sound that seemed to affect all the men in the room. “fuck,” you heard someone, you thought haechan, groan.
slowly johnny’s hand began to move further and further up your leg, closer and closer, like he was testing the waters— seeing how far he could go before you’d push back against him. but you didn’t— you curled further into his hold, into his touch. his hands were soft and comforting. it felt good. you felt special. that was all it was.
when his fingers grazed over your shorts, a fleeting touch of your pussy, you squeaked, squirming slightly in his hold. jaehyun grinned and you watched as his hand moved from your lower leg to your chest. gently he grabbed one of your boobs and you felt your stomach drop. this was the boldest they’d ever been. he wasn’t even hiding it or disgusting it as an accident— he was owning it. he was touching you, you liked it, and he owned it.
“so tiny,” he muttered. you weren’t sure if he was talking about you or the tight little tank top he was running his hands across— when he curled his finger around one of the straps, pulling it back and letting it snap against your skin, you decided it was probably both.
the room was quiet, everyone’s focus on you and the way you were responding to every move they made. if you’d been a little more aware, you’d have noticed them inching closer and closer to you from the moment johnny took you into his arms; but only when yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to meet his gaze by force, did you realise what was happening. they’d surrounded you. you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.
he released your hair and you looked back to meet johnny’s eyes. he smiled down at you, arms wrapped around your torso, and only then did you realise that his grip was tighter, firmer than before; like he was holding you in place. keeping you still.
testing your theory, you tried to struggle; to squirm. but you couldn’t. johnny wouldn’t let you. his brow furrowed. “keep being good,” he said, tone warning. “or this is gonna go very differently.”
you didn’t want to think about what he was implying; a few times he and doyoung had threatened to punish you or take you over their knee, but you’d assumed they were joking or just trying to scare you into obedience. but maybe they were serious— maybe you really were one wrong move away from finding out just what they were capable of. you shuddered at the thought.
you watched as haechan’s hand reached towards you and finally slipped under your shorts to touch your bare skin. his eyebrows raised. “no panties?” he grinned.
you heard some mumbles of surprise and johnny’s dick twitched against your back. “slut,” he muttered. “you planned this.”
“no,” you protested, shaking your head. “i didn’t.”
“don’t lie.” haechan’s voice was firm, eyes dark. you whined again and he pinched your clit, making you squirm. “stop moving,” he said.
he may be the youngest and one of the smaller members, but haechan always intimidated you. you’d seen him angry on a few occasions; watched the rage simmer beneath the surface. he keeps his cool, but you always wondered what happens on the other side of the line. now, though, as he eased a finger into your tight hole, you’d rather not find out.
“is she tight?” yuta asked and haechan nodded, groaning slightly. “so fucking tight,” he affirmed. “fucking virgin pussy.”
“let me see,” mark said. “take her shorts off.”
“good idea,” jaehyun grinned. haechan moved his hand away for a moment, allowing the elder to slide the shorts down your legs, finally revealing what they’d been waiting so painfully long to see.
“jesus,” mark breathed.
“perfect little pussy.” jaehyun’s eyes never left your tight, dripping hole. he looked ready to devour you. “john,” he said. “can you spread her open for us?”
you’d honestly forgotten johnny was there; his hold was so warm and familiar that you hardly noticed it. he chuckled against your neck, breath tickling your skin. you knew he felt the way you shivered in response and you felt his smile widen before he lifted his head to peer down at your naked bottom half. “certainly,” he said. “be a good girl and stay still, baby.”
then his big hands were on your thighs, spreading them further apart to expose you properly. you jumped slightly when he touched your pussy, squirming and gasping until he shushed you softly; then with each hand he spread your lips apart, allowing them a full view of your hole.
yuta was the first to speak. “ok,” he breathed. “i’m fucking her first.”
there were mild protests from the others, but no one made any real move to stop him; clearly, you figured, they all knew they’d get their turn. he made quick work of his jeans; unzipping them and pulling out his dick before you registered what was happening. he caught your eye, smiling slyly. “you want it?” he asked.
at that point, you should have said no. you should have put a stop to all this and run to taeyong, or doyoung, or someone because this was all wrong and you knew that. they knew that. but this had gone too far already and right now, all you cared about, all you could think about, was the hard, dripping cock in yuta’s hand. “yes,” you whispered.
his smile widened as he approached you, situating himself between your spread legs. “hold her still for me, john,” he said. johnny made a noise of agreement, moving his hands to hold your thighs firmly open.
though not the largest in the group, yuta was by no means small; just the sight of his cock throbbing and pulsating in his palm made you twitch nervously. once the tip was resting against your entrance, he gently cupped your face, pulling you forward to press a kiss to your nose. it was tender and sweet and the complete opposite to what was about to happen.
it took him a while to push all the way inside you; his size and your lack of experience made it difficult to fit. but he managed, eventually, with the help of johnny’s finger on your clit, making you wetter for his band mate to fuck you; and the feeling of his dick inside you was beyond description. you felt used, full, objectified in the best way. you felt like a doll; spread open for his cock and ready to take whatever he decided to give you. slowly he started to move; his arms rested on your thighs, holding you down and giving him leverage to fuck you. you threw your head back when he finally hit against your cervix, completely overwhelmed, and johnny took the chance to grab your neck, holding you in position looking up at him. he tilted his head. “feel good?” he asked.
a weak ‘nngh’ was all you could manage in response, but none of them faulted you for it. johnny grinned and released your neck only to shove his fingers into your mouth. you choked at the surprise intrusion but quickly got used to it; soon the large, thick fingers were a comforting presence and you sucked at them desperately as yuta continued to stretch you open. you looked back to face the others, and saw that the three not touching you all had their dicks in their hands, stroking themselves to the scene in front of them.
“no one cum,” johnny ordered the watching men. “she’s gonna take all our loads. aren’t you?”
you nodded, but at that moment, pussy stuffed and mouth full while the others watched, you’d have agreed to anything johnny said just for the fact that it was him that said it— and to hear the deep, approving “good girl”, that came in response.
yuta came quickly and without warning; he moaned and shouted something in japanese as he made two or three hard, final thrusts before you felt him release inside you. it felt warm, strangely. it felt nice.
he stayed on top of you for moment, breathing heavily, before pulling out and retreating. you felt warm liquid slowly spilling out of you for a moment, before johnny’s long finger pushed it back in. “good girls don’t waste their owners’ cum,” he muttered and you blushed, nuzzling into his neck.
“alright,” johnny said, “who’s next?”
“us.” you looked up to see mark and haechan approaching you and johnny raised an eyebrow. “both of you?” he asked.
“pussy and mouth,” mark said, like it was obvious. “duh.”
johnny hummed, pressing his face against yours. “can you take that, baby? two cocks at once?”
“of course she can,” haechan rolled his eyes. “she doesn’t have a choice.”
“take it easy, man,” jaehyun muttered, but the look of sheer delirium on your face told him just how much you were loving this— being used without a say in what happened to your own body. you knew they’d stop if you told them; but why would you?
johnny helped you lie down, head in his lap as haechan climbed on top of your chest. his dick was hard and leaking and right in your face; he slapped it against your cheek a few times before forcing it in.
you choked, eyes watering, but took it into your mouth obediently. you’d never done this before, so you let haechan take the lead, which he probably would have done anyway; you let him slam his dick against the back of your throat, again and again, ignoring you whining and choking around his cock. it was painful and uncomfortable and degrading but at the same time it somehow felt so fucking good. maybe it was the way johnny whispered praises in your ear, telling you how well you’re taking your members, what a good teammate you are. or maybe it was the feeling of mark sliding into your pussy easily, finally filling you up again.
he wasn’t as big as yuta, but especially to someone who was a virgin a few minutes ago, he was the furthest thing from small. he fucked you slower and more tenderly than the elder, but he gripped your hips with the same firm, unquestioned ownership of you that they all exuded. somehow he and haechan fell into the same rhythm, their cocks hitting the deepest parts of you at the same time and it was completely overwhelming. through watering eyes you stared up at haechan, barely making out his face through your tears. you moaned around his cock, struggling with his size and you felt your teeth graze against his shaft. he stopped for a moment, cursing under his breath before his palm collided with your face. it wasn’t particularly painful, but it left a lingering sting that floated among the multitudes of different sensations you were experiencing.
“don’t fucking bite me,” he growled, before his thrusts started again.
you heard johnny click his tongue, running his hands through your hair. “bad girl,” he chuckled. “can’t handle a dick in your mouth, huh?”
you whined, sound muffled by haechan’s cock and you heard the men laugh. “we’ll train her up,” haechan grinned. suddenly he grabbed your hair, pulling your head further down onto his dick as his thrusts sped up. his moans got louder and louder, turning to shouts before he cried out painfully and liquid filled your mouth. it tasted strange; salty and strange at the same time. when he pulled out, you saw white liquid coating his cock. “hold on, haechan,” johnny said. “she’ll lick you clean.”
haechan grinned, and then his dick was at your mouth once again. you swallowed the liquid in your mouth so you could open it again, letting him feed his cock between your lips. you licked and suckled at it dutifully, and when he pulled out again, his cock was clean. “good girl,” he purred.
the sight of you licking his friend’s cock clean seemed to push mark over the edge too; he grunted, cursing loudly before you felt yourself filling up again as he released inside you. panting heavily, he sat limply for a moment before pulling out.
the sight was beyond anything they could have dreamed of; their sweet youngest member, lying naked with her head in johnny’s lap and cum leaking out of her holes, too tired and fucked out to even close her legs. they wished they could keep you like this forever; spread open, used, and ready for more.
you were barely conscious by the time jaehyun pushed into you; by now the intense waves of pleasure were a distant sensation; his voice as he spoke to you clouded by the overwhelming emotions overtaking you. you felt his hands on your face, looking up to meet his kind but dark eyes and you gave him a weak smile.
he didn’t take long to cum, perhaps more out of mercy for you than anything else; before he released he pushed two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck and gag yourself on them while he chased his orgasm. he came with a yell, his final, heavy thrust finally pushing you over the edge too.
you felt yourself release around his dick, body convulsing with pleasure. you were completely delirious, screaming though your orgasm and clawing desperately at johnny’s arms. he talked you through it, voice low, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying.
when you finally finished, it proved too much to you; you went limp, completely numb as you blacked out. pulling out of you slowly, jaehyun looked uncertainly at johnny. the elder just smiled, stroking your hair. “she’s fine,” he said. “baby can’t handle that much pleasure yet.”
jaehyun smiled, staring down at your sleeping form and running a large hand up and down your thigh. he looked up, suddenly seeming troubled. “john, you didn’t get to…”
johnny laughed, shaking his head. “doesn’t matter. she needed me with her.”
jaehyun hummed, still staring quizzically at the elder, who shrugged. “it’s no big deal, jae,” he grinned. “she belongs to all of us now. i’ll get my turn.”
you woke up in bed hours later, drenched in sweat and desperate for johnny; you cried out for him, reaching into the darkness and hoping you’d find him there. when he finally walked into the room, coming to sit next to you, you were nearly in tears from how needy and empty you felt.
“johnny,” you whimpered again. “please.”
and get his turn he did.
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thanks for the request! my first nct fic, hope it was good. i def got carried away lol. reblogs and comments appreciated, requests open! love🖤🖤🖤
#nct smut#nct 127 smut#johnny smut#johnny suh smut#jaehyun smut#yuta smut#yuta nakamoto smut#mark smut#mark lee smut#haechan smut#dom nct#sub reader#kpop smut#mulloey writes
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sfw alphabet | carlos sainz
୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for carlos sainz ୨ৎ : word count : 1311
୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ
(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!
a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)
very affectionate in his own way—he shows love through actions more than words.
small, consistent gestures like holding your hand, forehead kisses, or brushing your hair out of your face.
he’s affectionate daily, but it feels natural rather than overbearing.
b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)
as a best friend, he’d be the funny, charming guy who always makes you laugh.
your friendship would start with banter—he’d tease you a lot but in a way that makes you feel special.
he’d invite you to casual outings, and over time, you’d become one of his closest confidants.
c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)
loves to cuddle, especially after a long day or when he’s relaxed.
he’d be the type to wrap you up tightly, either spooning or with your head on his chest.
he’d stroke your back or play with your hair absentmindedly while you’re cuddling.
d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)
he definitely wants to settle down eventually, but he’s not in a rush—he prefers to focus on the present.
he’s decent at cooking, with a few spanish dishes he’s mastered, but cleaning isn’t his favorite thing.
he keeps his space tidy enough but would happily let you take the lead on organizing.
e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)
he’d be honest and straightforward, sitting you down for a heartfelt conversation.
carlos would ensure you understand his reasons and would never leave you with unresolved feelings.
he’d take the blame if necessary and try to leave things on as good terms as possible.
f ⤖ fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)
he’s serious about commitment and wouldn’t propose unless he was 100% sure.
carlos likes to take his time with big steps, so he wouldn’t rush into marriage, but once he’s ready, he’d be all in.
g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)
very gentle both emotionally and physically.
emotionally, he listens and respects your feelings without judgment.
physically, his touches are soft and caring, always ensuring you’re comfortable.
h ⤖ hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)
he loves hugs, especially spontaneous ones.
he’d hug you often—quick hugs throughout the day and longer ones when he misses you or needs comfort.
his hugs are warm, firm, and reassuring, like he’s anchoring you to him.
i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)
he takes his time to say it, wanting it to feel meaningful and special.
once he’s sure of his feelings, he’d say it in a quiet, heartfelt moment—he’s not one to rush something so important.
j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)
he doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, it’s subtle—he might get a bit quieter or extra protective.
he’d never start an argument about it but might pull you closer or ask for reassurance indirectly.
k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)
his kisses are slow, intentional, and full of emotion—he doesn’t rush them.
loves kissing your forehead, cheeks, and neck, but his favorite is your lips.
he likes being kissed on his jawline or the corner of his mouth—it makes him smile every time.
l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)
he’s amazing with kids—playful and patient.
he’d joke around and play games but also knows how to be responsible when needed.
he’d love the idea of being a dad someday, but only when he feels ready.
m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)
mornings with him are relaxed—he’s not in a rush to get out of bed.
he’d pull you closer for a cuddle before finally getting up, often sneaking in a quick kiss or two.
breakfast would either be something simple he made or an outing to his favorite café.
n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)
nights with him are cozy and quiet, often spent watching a movie, sharing a glass of wine, or talking about your day.
he’d be attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated before bed.
o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)
he takes time to open up, sharing pieces of himself little by little as trust builds.
he’d start with lighthearted stories but eventually share his deeper thoughts when he feels safe.
p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)
he’s incredibly patient and not easily angered.
even when frustrated, he prefers to talk things out calmly rather than letting emotions take over.
q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)
he remembers most things, especially the little quirks that make you happy or things you’ve mentioned in passing.
he’d surprise you by bringing up something you thought he’d forgotten.
r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)
his favorite moment is probably something simple yet meaningful,
like the first time you laughed at one of his silly jokes or a quiet sunset shared together.
s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)
he’s naturally protective, but it’s not overbearing—it’s in the way he holds your hand in a crowd or checks in on you during tough times.
he likes knowing you feel safe with him and would appreciate emotional support when he needs it, too.
t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
he puts a lot of effort into things that matter to you—he’s thoughtful and loves planning surprises.
dates are always creative, and he remembers important anniversaries without fail.
y ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)
he can be stubborn, especially when he thinks he’s right.
sometimes, he’s so focused on his career or hobbies that he might forget to check in as often as you’d like.
v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)
he’s definitely mindful of his appearance—he likes looking polished and put-together.
he spends time on his hair and style but isn’t overly vain about it.
w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)
he’d feel the absence deeply if you weren’t around—he values emotional connections and wouldn’t take your bond lightly.
x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)
he loves sharing his culture with you—whether it’s introducing you to spanish music, cooking his favorite childhood dishes, or teaching you spanish phrases.
y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)
he dislikes dishonesty or a lack of trust in a relationship.
he’s also not a fan of overly negative attitudes or people who don’t respect his love for family.
z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)
he sleeps deeply and usually sprawls out, taking up more space than he realizes.
he loves falling asleep while holding you or at least having some part of him touching you, like your hand or leg.
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#carlos sainz x gf!reader#carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz smau#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 x reader#x reader#formula one#formula one x reader#formula 1#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x you#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x reader#carlos sainz jr x you#carlos sainz jr x reader#carlos sainz smut#cs55 x y/n#cs55 imagine#cs55 x reader#cs55 x you#cs55 fic#cs55 smut#f1 fanfic#𐐪♡︎₊˚ ― jungwnies#jungwnies
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rereading fourth wing for the first time ever since reading it in may 2023 so it’s been a while but i think i’m going to have fun with this actually!! jury’s still out on iron flame though lmao
anyway chapter 1 thoughts here you go
“I don’t need the prohibited power of mind reading to know exactly what she sees.” If Violet ends up being an intinnsic so help me god I will turn this car around
I love getting to reread this first conversation with Lilith knowing what we know about her after Iron Flame. She talks about scribes being below riders—not in strength, but in safety. Violet would have no protection as a scribe. It’s fun seeing the true meaning behind her words compared to how Violet takes it—how Lilith wants her to take it, so Violet doesn’t catch onto the secrets she’s keeping
Also she never explicitly agrees or disagrees that Papa Sorrengail wouldn’t want Vi to be a rider. “I doubt he wants much these days” is cold as fuck but actually says nothing about how he’d feel about what she’s doing. For all we know he’d agree. He loved Lilith after all. He had to be as pragmatic and maybe even as ruthless as she was
Oh dear god I forgot the phrase “for the win” was in this damn book
Lilith sees Violet more clearly than anyone except for Xaden. She knows she can use her size to her advantage, and she knows that while her strength isn’t physical, it’s no less impressive
Anyway I love her and I miss her!!!
“Lightning quick” the foreshadowing in this book is not subtle
I forgot that the fables demonize the dragons?? I hope we dive into that more in OS
“…more vocal about her men than I have been…about all two of them.” Okay Halden and?? Or do we count Dain in this?
Rhiannon is here!!
Violet swooning over Dylan’s not-proposal is actually so cute. Baby’s a romantic!!!
She’s so horny 😭 one look at Xaden and she’s ready to climb the man like a fucking tree
“…as if he can hear me over the howl of wind…” not you baby just your thoug—intentions! Just your intentions!
Two seconds into meeting and that muscle in his jaw is already ticking god I love this man
“Seems like we’re even.” “Hardly.” It’s not her fucking fault her mom sucks Riorson??? Leave my girl alone. I don’t love you THAT much
Love that we can see him already rethinking his assumptions of Violet when he realizes she gave Rhiannon her boot
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Hiiiii! The first thing I wanted to say was that I LOVE your writing, it’s SO GOOD. I was wondering if you could write like a friends to lovers about Sirius where like they won’t admit their feeling for each other and then it ends with like LOWKEY rly dirty smut. Idk if that’s too much to ask but I would really love it!
Productivity boost - Sirius Black
thank you so much lovely, i hope you enjoy this! cw: SMUT, exhibitionism, semi-public sex? no protection wc: 2.6k+
A thoughtful hum. A subtle lick of your lips. A hand brushing your hair out of your face. Sirius swallowed up all of your movements like a hungry predator, and he rushed to offer you the hair tie around his wrist. At the realisation of what Sirius had offered you, you laughed joyously, deeply thanking him as you took it from his hands. Tying your hair back loosely, you felt your cheeks heat up, a smile on your face that you weakly tried hiding with a hand over your mouth. Sneaking a glance back at the boy, you found him still looking your way. You both averted your gazes away from each other at the same time, humiliated by the prospect of being caught.
From across the table, Remus and Lily shot each other an exasperated look, and when James joined the four of you, they sent him the same one. Immediately, the boy knew what was happening, dropping his bag down and rolling his eyes before slumping down on the floor with the rest of you, working on the low table in front of the fireplace. It had been weeks of you and Sirius exchanging flirtatious glances and teasing conversations, touchiness between you increasing as you commonly shared hugs, sneaky hands lingering on waists. Because you were the only two of the friend group taking potions as a NEWT, it meant you had six hours of fooling around together in lessons a week, and therefore, you’d become considerably closer.
Sirius placed a hand on the small of your back, leaning close to you to peak at your answers over your shoulder. His hot breath on your neck had you glancing his way, otherwise accustomed to his gentle touch in your skin. “Anything I can help you with Mr. Black?” You teased, looking at him over your shoulder. He leaned his chin on your shoulder, scanning through your homework. “Yeah,” he mumbled “Have you done question 6? The use of the stewed mandrake in the oculus potion?” You gasped Sirius’s name out, attracting the attention of the three students facing you. “We have to complete 50 questions for tomorrow and you’re only at question 6? Might as well choose to do the essay instead.” Sirius made a grumbled sound of annoyance, mumbling about ‘boring essays’, but he straightened his back, watching as you flicked through endless pages of your assignment until you found the right page. You handed it to him, explaining your writing process, and Sirius smiled, watching intently as you spoke.
Neither you, Lily, Remus nor James missed the way Sirius’s eyes dipped down to focus on your lips, but you didn’t acknowledge it, instead smiling softly at him as you finished your explanation. You brought your hand to Sirius’s flimsy assignment paper, tapping your finger on it, instantly grabbing Sirius’s attention as you said “Now eyes on here, Black.” Sirius groaned, letting himself fall against your side, his eyes trained on your face. You chuckled, ignoring Sirius’s pleading look, instead continuing to answer the questions due tomorrow. “Sweetheart, Slughorn’s going to give you a detention if you don’t finish this.” “S’fine.” Yo turned to face Sirius, pushing yourself up into a standing position and offering him both your hands. “How about we go on a walk? Get a short break and come back? Boost our productivity?” Sirius happily took your hands, barely putting his weight on you as he slid his legs under him, pushing himself onto his feet and giving you false belief that you helped him up. Sirius only lets go of one of your hands, the other one intertwining with your fingers as he led you away from the study table.
You furrowed your eyebrows as Sirius led you further down the common room. You pointed in the direction of the common room’s exit, mumbling a small “But-“, but Sirius ignored your word, pulling you up a a set of stairs that led to the boys dormitories. “I hope they just fuck and get it over with.” Remus grumbled, earning himself a slap on the back from James, who barked out a loud laugh, watching you both disappear behind the curve of the stairs.
“Sirius!” You gasped when the boy tugged you into the room, locking the door behind you and climbing over his bed to finally reach the balcony attached to his dorm. Throwing yourself onto the bed, you followed Sirius with your gaze, watching as his soft hair was pushed away from his face with the wind’s soft ripples. Suddenly, he turned his attention to you, pupils dilating at the sight if you draped over his sheets, your skirt dangerously high up, exposing your thighs. “Come out here!” Sirius called out, nodding his head in his direction, watching as you kicked your flats off, leaving you in white socks. You shook your head with a giggle, your laughs increasing when Sirius ran towards you, hands finding home in the dips of your waist, tickling you softly. “No!” You screeched with a smile, and Sirius’s tickles immediately subsided, instead gripping both your hands to try and pull you off the mattress. You tugged him in your direction, still giggling, and Sirius let you pull him onto his own bed, a wide smile on his face.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” He whispered, beginning to get up again. You followed him, arms snaking around his waist from the back, peeking around his torso to look at the view from the balcony. Sirius raised one of his arms, wrapping it around your shoulders as you released your hold on him, now standing by his side. “Look at the view.” He mumbled, and you smiled, your stare fixed onto him, his sharp jawline and soft hair. “Mhm, I am.” You replied, making Sirius turn his head towards you. He smiled teasingly, “You are, huh?” You hummed in agreement, biting your bottom lip and turning away from him.
Sirius’s free hand travelled to your hip, trying to turn you to face him. “Come on, look at me.” Obediently, you returned your gaze towards him, cocking your head to the side. The arm wrapped around your shoulder moved so Sirius’s hand could cup your face, one thumb softly caressing your skin. “I think you’re a thousand times more beautiful than this view could ever be.” “Oh Sirius.” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up as you dug your face in his chest. Sirius’s fingers were quick to pull your face out of hiding, a handsome smile gracing his features. Silently, you both stared at each other until finally, Sirius began leaning his face closer to yours.
Quickly, you pressed yourself onto your tip toes, immediately connecting your lips to his, Both your arms were instantly thrown over the tall boy’s shoulders, one of his hands cupping your cheek whilst the other wrapped tightly around your waist, dangerously low on your back. Sirius’s tongue pushed into your mouth, causing a low whimper to escape your lips, which he instantly swallowed up. He desperately licked into your mouth and you sighed into the kiss, tongue battling against his for dominance. Sirius pulled away from the kiss, grinning when you tried reconnecting your lips. Instead, he held you back, only leaning down to press his lips against yours in two short, chaste kisses. You pouted, a pleading look in your eyes telling Sirius you wanted more. Sirius held your chin between his thumb and index, pulling your lips apart before he finally kissed you again in an open mouthed kiss, easily gliding his tongue against yours.
You moaned into the kiss, pulling away sharply to drag Sirius back into the dorm, and push him onto his bed. He climbed up the mattress, and you quickly climbed over him, knees on either side of his thighs. Your chest brushed against Sirius’s as you leaned over him, desperately deepening the kiss, which you finally took control of. Sirius tightly gripped your hips, pushing them down onto his lap, where you grinned deliciously against his pelvis, feeling the ridge of his cock through his trousers. A moan ripped out of Sirius’s chest, his mouth opening in a breathless gasp. Your kisses trailed towards Sirius’s jaw and neck, biting on his skin before licking over the area, soothing the burn. He groaned, bucking his hips up into you, and you paused your kisses, sitting up on the boy’s lap to attempt to unbutton his shirt.
Sirius chuckled at your miserable attempt, pushing himself onto his elbows to watch you clumsily pull the buttons out of their little sockets, revealing inches of Sirius’s chest at a time, until finally, the entire shirt was unbuttoned. You wet your lips, gaping at his lean torso in admiration, and Sirius shuffled on the bed to toss the shirt on the floor. Your hands travelled down Sirius’s chest and down his abdomen, finally landing at the top of his trousers. Sirius clasped his hand over yours, chuckling quietly. “Calm down sweetheart.” And with a powerful buck of his hips and turn of his body, Sirius had rolled you over on the bed, trapping you underneath him.
You squealed, gripping Sirius’s biceps, and he immediately mimicked your movements, exposing your chest to him. Sirius groaned, lowering his face so he could press kisses all over your chest, focusing on your breasts. You sighed in satisfaction, tangling a hand in his hair as he left kisses on your skin. Sirius traced the edge of your bra with one finger before pulling the cup down to expose your tit. You gasped, watching as Sirius fluttered kisses around your nipple, waiting for it to harden before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard. You jolted upwards, gasping in shock, and Sirius grinned, letting go of your sensitive nub before he continued his exploration downwards.
Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers in the fabric of your panties underneath your skirt, tugging it down in one swoop. Sirius crawled back on the bed, laying down on his stomach and hooking his arms around your thighs. “Sirius, you don’t-“ “Shhh!” Sirius interrupted, closing his eyes as he pressed kisses down your slit before licking up your cunt, causing your eyes to shoot wide open. Sirius brought one of his hands up to parts your lips, fingers searching for your clit. Sirius grinned when he found the sensitive sub, putting pressure on it and watching how you squirmed.
Sirius dipped his head down, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. You moaned loudly, digging your head into the mattress behind you, fingers lacing in Sirius’s hair and tugging. Sirius used the same fingers to tease your entrance, dipping the tips of his winters into your hole. “Sirius,” You gasped, looking out to the side, where the balcony door was proudly open. “Sirius, the balcony is open!” You cried, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, and Sirius detached from your pussy with a loud ‘pop’.
“Oh, you into that?” “What?” But it was too late to change Sirius’s mind: he was already pulling you off his best. You stood on shaky feet, letting Sirius drag you outside onto the balcony. You rushed to button your shirt up again, making yourself somewhat decent as Sirius pushed you against the railing.
“Sirius?” You asked breathlessly, listening closely to the zipping of Sirius’s trousers. “If this is what you’re into, I don’t mind.” He teased jokingly, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. “Someone could see us.” You whispered, glancing at him over your shoulder. A serious look overtake the boy’s face and he asked “Does that bother you? We can go inside.” But with an eager shake of your head, a smile was easily breaking out onto his face again.
Sirius cursed behind you, guiding his cock underneath your skirt to hide himself from the world. At the same time, he drove his cock between your folds, dipping his tip into your entrance. You tightly gripped the railing to steady yourself, bracing for the impact of Sirius’s cock impaling through your folds. When it finally came, your whole body jolted forward at the force of his thrust, your moan so loud you barely heard Sirius’s groan, his fingers digging into your hips so hard it would definitely leave marks. Sirius cursed from behind you, internally saying a short prayer that he wouldn’t cum before you - that would leave a bad impression. Sirius’s hips began rocking slowly into you, as if apologising for the brutal first thrust he had given you, massaging your gummy walls. You unwillingly clenched around Sirius’s cock, shutting your eyes tightly to will yourself not to lose control over your moans. Oh, you wished Sirius would be nice on you. And he was, just not in the sense you were talking about.
Sirius’s pace quickly increased, his hips colliding into yours, balls making a sharp slapping sound against your ass. You whined loudly, biting your lip to suppress your sounds, but Sirius quickly held your face in one of his hands, turning you slightly to look at him, and he muttered in between harsh breaths “Let me hear you darling.” You gave him a pleading look, desperate not to get caught by anyone. Sirius chuckled, thrusting his hips into you with more power, but you didn’t relent, the only sound coming out of you being little gasps for breaths. Sirius let go of your hip with one hand, circling it to your front and letting his fingers delve between your folds to rub at your clit. He felt your leg twitch, and throwing your head back onto Sirius’s shoulder, you allowed him the view of your teeth freeing your boredom lip, mouth opening to let a high pitched moan disperse into the chilly afternoon air.
“Oh god!” You cried, letting go of the railing with one hand to reach back towards Sirius. Sirius let go of your hip, his free hand now reaching forward to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He caressed his thumb over your hand, pressing fluttering kisses on your neck as he continued steadily thrusting into you. “‘M so close!” You breathed out, your chest heaving as you tried catching your breath. Each intake was broke. up by new moans rippling to your surface, Sirius’s fingers making real work on your body.
“Come on, cum for me.” In your preoccupation over your own pleasure, you failed to realise that Sirius’s thrusts were being sloppier, prioritising power over speed as he reached his orgasm. You whined loudly as you came, your orgasm causing a violent shake in your thighs, legs barely holding you up. Sirius wrapped an arm around your waist to help steady you, biting your shoulder to muffle his own cries as he unloaded his load of cum into you, thrusts gently subsiding. “Fuck, fuck, I love you, I love you so much.” The cloud of pleasure cleared from your brain just as Sirius uttered those words, and your eyes widened, hands gripping the railing one more as Sirius finally pulled out of you.
You didn’t give the boy a moment to recover before you were spinning around to look at him with a wide grin on your face. “What was that?” You teased, watching as his face turned a deep shade of red in humiliation. “Nothing, I- nothing.” He mumbled, tucking himself back in his trousers.
You stalked closer to Sirius, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his chest. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you. “So if it’s nothing, then now isn’t a good time to confess my feelings for you?” Sirius’s eyes shot wide open at your question, and he immediately scanned your face as though trying to detect a sign that you were lying. “You like me?” But to answer his inquiry, you only pushed yourself up on your tippy toes, pressing your lips against his.
#rainydayathogwarts#harry potter#hogwarts#gryffindor#the marauders#sirius being sirius#sirius black fanart#sirius black smut#sirius black fluff#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#marauders#mauraders
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Reaper inadvertently hiding his wings from Geno (more by chance than intention) and when Geno finally gets to see them he secretly thinks they're so cool. He makes it his secret stealth mission to touch the fluff at the first opprotunity he gets. (He's not subtle. At all. Reaper can see him looking at his wings and he's definitely flattered by it. He lets it play out for a while for the amusement factor.)
#utmv#undertale au#ut au#ut aus#undertale sans#sans undertale#reaper sans#geno sans#geno x reaper#reaper x geno#reapertale sans#genocide sans#afterdeath#afterdeath ship#aftertale sans
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Your threads are very interesting.! Do you believe Sakura and suo will have conflict or rivalry? Or their dynamic will be kinda similar to killua and gon for example!
Hello! I’m very thankful you find my threads interesting, I put a lot of thought behind them, so this means a lot :)
To answer your question: I definitely think they will have some sort of conflict at a later point of the story. Specifically, one that will lead to a physical confrontation between the two.
As I’ve pointed out in my main Suo and Sakura analysis, the two are close; however their relationship feels disjointed compared to WBKs other dynamics since they cannot bring themselves to be properly vulnerable with people, much less with each other. It’s only in the unexpected moments where Suo reveals parts of his hidden self to Sakura (and the audience).
And whats the only way that they can properly learn to understand each other? Well, Umemiya says it himself during Shishitoren:
Heck, a potential fight between them has been hinted in that very same arc!
Sakura being the one to challenge a fight with Suo and the latter denying his request is very telling of their characters. Nii Satoru is a master at [subtle] foreshadowing through character dialogues and [visual] symbolism, so I believe this exchange was written with deliberate intent. After all, Sakura doesn’t go picking fights with people who haven’t done anything unjust. Though the extent of Suo’s mistreatment towards Kanuma can be debated…
I’m aware Nii sensei has stated in their interview given in Thailand that the trio wouldn’t get into a physical fight if they ever fell into conflict, but they never said anything about it’s individual dynamics >:)
About the possible Killua and Gon type dynamic: You’ll have to forgive me for any misinterpretations. It’s been a very long time since I’ve watched Hunter x Hunter (been due for a big catchup + rewatch), so I’m only basing my next thoughts from what I’ve seen so far.
From what I’ve understood and remember, Gon has a lack of self worth and Killua is a bit too eager to throw his life away (ie. they just dont have much self worth lol)—these two aspects of their characters interfere with their friendship even though their bond is very strong.
Their relationship is pretty different from Suo and Sakura’s, so I’m not sure who’d fit whom. I can see Suo being [somewhat] self-sacrificial as Sakura was in Noroshi. Or maybe Sakura (and Nirei too!) were Suo’s first real friends.
I can’t really say much right now because I’ve forgotten so many things that had happened in HxH (also im pretty behind on the story) . Sorry about that. Maybe when their relationship develops more, they’ll grow to be as close as Killua and Gon, just without the emotional angst :’)
#naoh’s soapbox#wbk analysis#which turned into a yapfest#sorry OP#its a good question tho#suo hayato#sakura haruka
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Checkmate in Silence
Summary: Jing Yuan, March 7th, Dan Heng, and You gather for a lighthearted game of chess aboard the Astral Express. While Dan Heng stays focused on the game, Jing Yuan and March work together in secret, stealing and eating his pieces when he isn’t looking. The playful conspiracy unfolds as Jing Yuan and March’s teamwork leads to a sneaky checkmate, leaving Dan Heng bewildered and amused. The game ends in laughter and camaraderie, capturing a moment of fun and lightheartedness among the group.
Tags: @novalicviper, Jing Yuan x Reader x March 7th x Dan Heng, Chess, Mischief, Humor, Lighthearted, Fluff, Playful Competition, Teamwork, can be read Romantically or Platonically.
Warnings: March eats Dan Heng's pieces, yeah.
A/N: don't ask, March is just hungry 🧍♀️
It was a peaceful afternoon on the Astral Express, the gentle hum of the train providing a calm backdrop to an unexpected gathering in the lounge. You, March, Dan Heng, and Jing Yuan had gathered around a small table, set up for an intense yet playful game of chess.
March was as lively as ever, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. Her fingers drummed against the edge of the table, eager for the game to begin. "I’m going to win this time, I just know it! No more losing to you guys!" she declared, looking at you with wide, determined eyes.
Jing Yuan sat with a serene smile, his eyes glinting as he surveyed the board. "Is that so? We’ll see," he mused, his voice as calm as always. Despite his lazy demeanor, he had a sharp mind for strategy—and chess was no exception.
Dan Heng sat across from you, his eyes flickering between the pieces. He wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of playing chess in the first place, but his sense of duty meant he couldn't refuse when everyone else seemed so eager. He adjusted his glasses, glancing over the pieces, clearly trying to maintain his focus.
You shuffled the pieces and set up the board, the quiet atmosphere only broken by March’s occasional giggles and Jing Yuan's soft chuckles. As the game began, it was clear who was the strategist here. Jing Yuan and March exchanged subtle glances, their teamwork already becoming apparent to you, though not to Dan Heng.
With a move, Jing Yuan casually shifted a knight, and in the blink of an eye, March's hand shot out to snatch the piece from the board. Without missing a beat, she popped it into her mouth, chewing with a mischievous grin. You stifled a laugh, trying to hide your amusement, but Dan Heng never looked up from the board, completely unaware of the sneak attack unfolding right under his nose.
Jing Yuan’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he glanced at you. "I believe that's check," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he moved his queen into place.
March, still chewing her stolen knight, gave him a thumbs-up before quickly wiping her mouth. "Thanks for the assist, Jing Yuan!" she whispered, her eyes bright with excitement.
Dan Heng, oblivious to the trickery, focused intently on the game. "Don’t get too cocky," he muttered, moving his bishop with precision. "I’m not going down that easily."
March leaned over to you, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin. "He never looks away, does he? We have to be fast!"
You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling the thrill of the game. "Alright, let's do it."
The next few moves passed in a flurry of calculated plays. As Dan Heng moved his pieces, his eyes never strayed far from the board, focused and sharp. However, it wasn’t enough to stop the pair of conspirators. Jing Yuan shifted his rook, and within seconds, March had seized another piece—this time, a pawn. With a wink, she popped it into her mouth, making sure to savor the moment.
"You two are ruthless," you said, grinning. "Dan Heng doesn’t even know what’s happening!"
Dan Heng, unaware of the growing pile of pieces that had mysteriously vanished, made another move. "I have you now," he muttered, unaware of the impending checkmate.
Jing Yuan glanced at March, who was now gleefully enjoying her stolen pieces. He smirked before making his final move, placing his queen on the board. "Checkmate," he declared, his voice low and satisfied.
Dan Heng blinked in surprise, finally looking up at the board. "Wait... How did—" His gaze shifted to the empty spots where his pieces used to be. A look of realization dawned on his face as he met March’s wide, innocent eyes. "You—"
March grinned sheepishly, wiping a small crumb from her lips. "Uh… I think I might’ve eaten a few of your pieces. Oops?"
Dan Heng let out a deep sigh, a mix of disbelief and resignation. "You two... were teaming up this whole time, weren’t you?"
Jing Yuan chuckled softly, his calm demeanor unchanged. "It was a fair strategy, Dan Heng. Sometimes, it's not just about the pieces you play... but the ones you don’t."
You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene before you, the playful rivalry and the easy camaraderie between all of you. Despite the underhanded tactics, there was no animosity—just the warmth of being together, sharing this lighthearted moment.
Dan Heng sighed again but couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. "You all are impossible," he muttered, but the hint of amusement in his voice was enough to show he didn’t mind too much.
Jing Yuan leaned back, stretching slightly and surveying the group with a contented smile. "Another victory for the team," he said, as if the game had been won by sheer strategy alone.
March raised her hand, eager to declare her own triumph. "Yep! We make a great team!" She gave you a wink and a playful thumbs-up, signaling her satisfaction.
As the laughter died down, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. It wasn't just the victory that mattered—it was the way you all made memories together, one mischievous move at a time.
#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#jing yuan honkai star rail#hsr jing yuan#jing yuan x you#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan#dan heng x you#dan heng honkai star rail#hsr dan heng#dan heng x reader#dan heng#hsr march 7th#march 7th#march hsr#march x reader#hsr jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x y/n#jing yuan x reader x march 7th x dan heng#chess#mischief#humor#lighthearted#fluff#playful competition#teamwork#can be read as platonic or romantic
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Minghao is THAT type of boyfriend !
This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.
Minghao is effortlessly cool, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his soft spots. He has this way of being so composed and graceful, yet when he’s with you, there’s a subtle shift in him—less polished, more human, in the best way possible. It’s in the way he smiles at you like you’re the most fascinating piece of art he’s ever seen.
He’s the kind of boyfriend who’ll randomly buy you books that remind him of you. Not in an obvious, cliché way—no romance novels here. It’ll be something thoughtful, like a poetry collection or a philosophy book, because of course he’s that deep. He’ll casually say, “I thought you’d like it,” but secretly he’s hoping it’ll spark a conversation. Oh, and he’ll definitely want to hear your interpretation of eveerrrrythingg.
Minghao would have a quiet but sharp sense of humor. It’s not loud or over-the-top; it’s the kind that sneaks up on you. He’ll make a quick-witted remark with that deadpan expression, and it’ll leave you laughing long after the moment has passed. And don’t even get me started on his teasing—it’s all in good fun, but he knows exactly how to press your buttons just enough to make you roll your eyes and laugh at the same time.
Minghao is all about the art of subtle seduction. The way he leans against the doorframe, casually smirking at you; the way he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze; or how he lingers just a little too long when helping you fix your clothes—it’s all calculated. And the way he whispers, his voice low and teasing, when he’s close enough for you to feel his breath? AH MINGHAO!
He’s incredibly attentive, like SCARILY ATTENTIVE. He notices every little thing about you—your habits, the way you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed, or how you always chew on your pen when you’re deep in thought. And he’ll use that information in the most thoughtful ways, it’s always the little things with him.
Minghao is tactile but in a very specific way. He’s not overly clingy or touchy, but when he does touch you, it’s so intentional that it leaves you reeling. A hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowded room, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, or tracing little patterns on your wrist when you’re sitting together. It’s not about quantity—it’s about the impact. And boy, does he know how to make an impact. (it makes me want to scream!)
Okay, let’s address it—Minghao probably has a bit of a possessive streak. Not in a toxic way, but he’ll give a subtle look if someone seems to be getting too close for comfort. He doesn’t need to say anything because his energy alone is enough to establish boundaries. Honestly, it’s kind of hot.
Oh, and he’s not shy about calling you out when you’re being unreasonable. Minghao has no patience for unnecessary drama, but he’ll do it in the calmest, most rational way possible, leaving you wondering why you even started the argument in the first place. But he’s also not afraid to admit when he’s wrong, and that’s where his maturity truly shines.
Minghao’s love language? Acts of service, hands down. He’s the type to take care of things without making a big fuss about it. Broken zipper? He’s got you. Need advice? He’ll give you the most insightful perspective. I think he’s secretly lived a thousand lives.
That man can absolutely DRESS. Dating Minghao means your couple outfits are always on point, whether you’re matching unintentionally or rocking complementary aesthetics. He’ll probably get you into his whole minimalist-chic vibe, and you won’t even be mad about it. Honestly, how does he make everything look good?
Minghao is lowkey a perfectionist when it comes to the things he’s passionate about, and that includes you. He’s always striving to be the best version of himself for you, but he also encourages you to do the same. He’ll push you just enough to help you see your potential. (and that’s so attractive of him.)
Minghao loves the stillness of being with you, whether it’s sitting in a park watching the clouds or lying in bed with your legs tangled together, neither of you saying much but understanding each other perfectly. That kind of intimacy? Yeah, he’s all about it.
Oh, and when he’s in the mood to be playful? Watch out. Minghao can be unexpectedly cheeky, throwing in sly comments or giving you a teasing smirk that leaves you flustered. And my guy knows exactly what he’s doing, too.
The thing about Minghao is that he’s not loud about his love. It’s not in grand declarations or over-the-top gestures. It’s in the way he quietly supports you, challenges you, and loves you in ways that make you feel seen and understood.
Honestly, Minghao being THAT boyfriend? Pls HELP—I’m not okay.
#seventeen scenarios#svt x reader#seventeen#seventeen drabbles#svt drabbles#seventeen headcanons#svt headcanons#minghao seventeen#seventeen minghao#minghao#xu minghao#the8#svt the8#minghao headcanons#scoups seventeen#jeonghan seventeen#joshua seventeen#jun seventeen#hoshi seventeen#wonwoo seventeen#woozi seventeen#mingyu seventeen#seungkwan seventeen#vernon seventeen#dino seventeen#dk seventeen#mylovesstuffs 2025#★— mylovesstuffs
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I Don’t Play Anymore
Series Masterlist
Hwang In-Ho / The Frontman x Fem!Reader
.03 The Control Room
As the morning sunlight gradually filtered through the windows, In-ho's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze meeting the ceiling as he slowly regained consciousness. At the same moment, you also stirred from your slumber, your eyes opening to greet the day. It was an unusual and almost eerie coincidence that both of you awakened at the same instant as if your internal clocks had somehow synched.
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reflected on the restful night's sleep you had experienced in the luxurious surroundings. It had been some time since you felt this peaceful and well-rested, a testament to the comfort and tranquility of the master bedroom. It was certainly a pleasant and unusual experience, and you couldn't help but find it slightly ironic, given the circumstances.
The Frontman, standing outside the master bedroom, had just raised his hand to knock when you opened the door, the timing almost impeccable. There was a moment of surprise as you both stood there, facing each other, the mask still concealing his features once again.
The sudden appearance of the Frontman behind the door gave you a slight fright, causing you to jump with surprise. You were still caught off guard by the unexpected encounter, and the curse slipped from your lips before you could catch yourself, “shit!” The moment hung in the air for a second, the tension palpable.
With a small smile, you spoke softly to the Frontman, addressing the mask on his face. "You don't have to wear that thing in here, you know?" you said gently, walking past him, your steps light and graceful. The words were a subtle invitation, a hint that he could let down his defenses in the privacy of the room. As you continued, the words lingered in the air and you couldn't help but comment, "Your bed is so comfortable." The compliment was genuine, and the memory of the luxurious master bed is still vivid in your mind.
The Frontman's tone was even and composed, his words carrying a subtle sense of sincerity. "I'm glad you slept well," he responded calmly, the mask concealing his facial expressions but not the sincerity in his voice. There was a subtle flicker of warmth behind the mask, a hint of genuine concern for your well-being, despite the cold exterior that he expertly maintained.
You walked over to the large window. The view beyond was a sight to behold, the ocean stretched out before you. With a bottle of water in hand, you took a sip and leaned against the wall, gazing out the window, enjoying the moment of tranquility.
You couldn't help but notice the Frontman still standing at the bedroom door, his presence unwavering. You turned your head towards him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you caught his eye. With a small smirk, you raised an eyebrow, raising a silent question.
In-Ho quickly regained his composure, straightening his stance and masking any emotions that might have been creeping through his stoic exterior. With a brief statement, he announced his intentions, "I am going to get ready." He then walked into the bedroom, his steps purposeful and resolute, disappearing from view behind the closed door.
The sudden sound of your phone ringing shattered the tranquility of the moment, pulling you out of your thoughts. Frowning at the interruption, you pulled out your phone and checked the caller ID, a flicker of annoyance crossing your face as you saw it was your father calling.
You begrudgingly answered the call, the tone of your voice betraying your irritation. "Good morning, Father," you responded curtly, your annoyance evident in your voice. Despite your attempt to maintain your composure, the tension was palpable in your words, a reminder of the strained relationship you shared with your father.
Your father's voice was stern and demanding, leaving no room for argument. He informed you, "I want you up here in 15 minutes. We have to go to breakfast." The command rang in your ears, and you felt a surge of frustration, knowing that you had no choice but to obey his order.
Your response was terse, a mix of resignation and frustration. "Okay," you replied curtly, the word sounding more like a muttered complaint than an acknowledgment. The thought of having to attend breakfast with your father and likely dealing with whatever agenda he had in mind made your stomach churn.
You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you considered your options. All your bags were still in the bedroom, and you needed to get dressed and prepare for breakfast with your father. Glancing back at the closed bedroom door, you weighed the options, torn between the need for your belongings and invading the Frontman's personal space.
You knocked on the door but received no response, only the sound of the shower running inside. It was clear that the Frontman was in the shower, leaving you in a state of uncertainty. You stood there, contemplating whether to wait or try again later, aware that you needed to get ready to attend breakfast with your father soon.
You muttered to yourself, "Fuck it," knowing the consequences of defying your father's orders. With a sense of urgency, you quietly opened the door, attempting to enter without drawing attention or disturbing the Frontman. The sound of the shower still echoed through the room, providing some cover for your quiet intrusion.
With a sense of urgency, you quickly unzipped your suitcase and rummaged through the contents. You grabbed the first outfit you could find, not concerned with its appearance, as long as it wasn't blatantly inappropriate. The thought of angering your father further urged you on, and your movements were rushed but determined.
As you stood in the bedroom, clutching your shoes and dress, you noticed a sliver of the shower from the end of the hallway leading to the master bathroom. You couldn't help but glance at the sight, feeling a mix of curiosity.
The sight of his silhouette, dark hair, and well-built physique, was oddly mesmerizing. The shower glass blurred the details, but it was enough to spark a mix of curiosity and attraction. However, you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look away, feeling a pang of guilt for the intrusion.
You slipped out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you, feeling a mix of guilt and curiosity after glancing at the Frontman in the shower. Across the hall, you found another bathroom and quickly changed into the outfit you had grabbed from your suitcase. The process was hasty, driven by your need to get ready for the impending breakfast with your father, leaving no room for hesitation.
You slipped out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you, feeling a mix of guilt and curiosity after glancing at the Frontman in the shower. Across the hall, you found another bathroom and quickly changed into the outfit you had grabbed from your suitcase. The process was hasty, driven by your need to get ready for the impending breakfast with your father, leaving no room for hesitation.
From inside the elevator, you waved your hand at the camera, calling out, "Hey, hello! I need to go to the dining hall. My father is waiting." Your tone was a mix of urgency and irritation as you addressed the surveillance camera, hoping for guidance or assistance. It felt like a strange way of asking for directions, but you knew the unseen presence on the other side could hear you.
The elevator silently travels down and the doors slide open silently, revealing a large dining room with an elegant and opulent atmosphere. The dimly lit space was adorned with crystal chandeliers and grand arched windows, creating an elegant and refined ambiance. A long table stretched across the center of the expansive room, elegantly set with fine china and silver cutlery. It was clear that this room was designed for grandeur and sophistication, ready to host the expected meal.
Your father's voice broke the silence, his words directed at you as you entered the dining room. "There she is," he stated with a mix of authority and expectation in his tone, his gaze locking onto you as you approached the table. There seemed to be a hint of relief and perhaps a touch of impatience in his voice, likely expecting your tardiness.
You took a seat beside your father, mustering a small smile despite the mix of emotions churning inside. "Good morning," you replied politely, your tone measured and somewhat guarded. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the weight of your father's expectation and possible disapproval hanging in the air.
Your father's gaze remained on you as you took your seat, his expression impassive but his eyes studying you, likely evaluating your choice of attire amid this opulent setting. The silence lingered for a moment, the room filled with an undercurrent of tension until the sound of footsteps approached. One of the staff members appeared, carrying a tray with drinks and offering a selection of beverages.
The staff member set the tray on the table, offering various beverages, including freshly brewed coffee, tea, and orange juice. Your father gestured for you to choose, "Tea, coffee, or orange juice, darling?" he asked, his tone cordial, but there was an undertone of control in his words.
You responded to your father's question with a simple request, "Coffee." The staff member nodded and picked up the coffee pot, pouring a cup of the dark, aromatic liquid for you. The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, adding an enticing fragrance to the atmosphere. The staff member placed the coffee cup in front of you, along with a small bowl of sugar and a creamer, allowing you to sweeten it to your taste.
As you reached for the creamer, your father's disapproving voice cut through the air, his words a reminder of your oversight. "Where's your mask?" he asked, his tone dripping with displeasure. You froze, realizing your mistake of forgetting to wear a mask in this setting. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a sudden pang of anxiety as the tension in the room thickened.
With a sigh, you realized exactly where your mask was - in the Frontman's room on the dresser. You stood up swiftly, feeling a mix of frustration and urgency in your movements. "I'm going to get it right now," you stated, your voice tinged with resignation, knowing you couldn't avoid the reprimand awaiting you.
As you walked away, your father's words rang in your ears, a tinge of disappointment in his tone. "Can't follow simple rules in such a fine establishment. Rude," he muttered, his words a reminder of your failure to adhere to the rules of decorum. The weight of his censure lingered in the air, making you feel a mix of shame and frustration.
As you rushed toward the elevator, your frustration and sense of urgency propelled your steps. Just as you approached, the elevator doors opened, revealing the Frontman standing there. You almost ran into him, but he reacted swiftly, placing his hand on your waist to steady you. The sudden touch sent a jolt through your body, and you froze for a moment, taken aback by the unexpected contact.
"I need to go get my-," but your words trailed off as he held up your mask in his hand, cutting you off. The sight of the mask in his grasp left you momentarily speechless. "Your mask," he stated simply, his voice calm and composed, holding the item you had mistakenly left behind.
Your smirk revealed a faint hint of gratitude as you took the mask from his grasp. Your words, filled with a touch of sarcasm and appreciation, conveyed a mix of gratitude and teasing. "Well, look at you, saving me again," you quipped, holding the mask tightly between your fingers, a small smile playing on your lips.
With the mask in place, you walked confidently towards the dining hall, followed closely by the Frontman. As you walked, he couldn't help but appreciate the sight of you walking ahead of him, his gaze subtly tracing your movements. The mask concealed his expression, but the subtle tilt of his head and the slight increase in his step indicated his attention and enjoyment of the view.
You returned to your seat next to your father, now feeling a sense of reassurance with the mask safely in place. Taking a sip of your coffee, you let the rich flavor wash over your tongue, finding some solace in this small pleasure. The tension between you and your father was still palpable in the air, but for now, you focused on enjoying your coffee and trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.
The Frontman, having followed you back to the dining hall, joined you both at the table. Turning his attention to your father, he addressed him with a polite and respectful tone. "I hope your night was enjoyable," he said calmly, his words carrying a subtle hint of formality. The mask obscured his expression, but his politeness was evident, attempting to bridge any existing rift between them.
Your father looked up from his plate as the Frontman addressed him. Despite the mask, the Frontman radiated an air of authority and command that was difficult to ignore. Your father's response came, "It was delightful."
Your father continued the conversation, trying to maintain a friendly and professional tone, "So, what does the day look like?" he asked, making an attempt to engage in small talk despite the underlying tension. The Frontman, ever composed and guarded, responded calmly, "The day will involve finalizing preparations for the next game if the players choose to stay." The Frontman's voice remained measured, the mask concealing his expressions, making it difficult to gauge his true thoughts or emotions.
Your father expressed his desire for you to be by the Frontman's side, learning from the experience and taking notes on new ideas. "I want her by your side, learning. We could take a lot from this place. I'm already jotting down new things just after a day," he stated assertively, emphasizing the importance of your involvement and learning. The Frontman listened attentively, his mask concealing his reaction, but his focus remained on your father's words.
The Frontman maintained his composure as your father spoke, considering the proposal and its implications. His expression was hidden behind the mask, but his stance was relaxed, suggesting he was receptive to the idea. There was a hint of intrigue in his demeanor, as if he was genuinely interested in the potential benefits of your father's proposition, even if his mask concealed his true emotions. "She will shadow me, at your request," he responded, his tone conveying a mix of authority and respect. There was a subtle undertone of acceptance and agreement, as if he was willing to accept your presence and involvement, in accordance with your father's wishes.
Your father's smile widened as you expressed your gratitude, "Aren't you grateful for this opportunity?" he asked, his voice tinged with a tone of satisfaction. "Very thankful," you replied, forcing a polite smile, trying to appease your father's demand for gratitude. The tension between you and your father was evident beneath the surface.
Your father's spoke, coupled with his laugh, carried a mix of dark humor, mockery, and a hint of cruelty. "I bet your brother is rolling in his grave," he said, the words laced with bitter amusement. The mention of your deceased older brother's name brought a pang of sadness and frustration to the surface, and you struggled to maintain your composure, trying to keep your emotions in check.
You responded with a nod, "He would be...shocked," your words carrying a bitter undertone of resentment. Despite the mask covering the Frontman's face, there was a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, almost imperceptible to others, but evident to you. He remained silent, the mask concealing any signs of distress he might feel, but his attention was focused on you.
The Frontman, taking a slightly different approach, decided to address your father about your brother indirectly. "Your son," he began with a calm yet deliberate tone, "did he not agree with the games?" His words seemed calculated, subtly probing for information or insights about your brother.
Your father's laughter filled the air, his tone filled with both pride and mockery. "Oh, hell! He LOVED them!" he stated, the words tinged with a mix of amusement and mockery. He then continued, "He wanted to take over once I retired. So I said why not! I sent him in to see if he had what it took." The Frontman listened attentively, absorbing the information about your brother's aspirations and how your father used the games as a test for him.
Your father's mockery continued, his words dripping with a cruel edge as he continued to speak. "And let's just say he found out he didn't have it in him." He laughed again, the sound carrying a hint of disdain and disappointment. The Frontman listened intently, his expression unreadable behind the mask, but his eyes seemed to focus on your father with a quiet intensity.
"I see," the Frontman responded calmly, his tone remaining stoic and his expression concealed behind the mask. There was a subtle hint of agreement in his response, as if he understood where your father was coming from, even if he might not necessarily share the same viewpoint. Your father followed up with a statement, "I just have high expectations. If you can't win it, you can't run it." The Frontman listened carefully, taking in your father's philosophy.
The Frontman's gaze shifted momentarily towards you, and his voice carried a tone of genuine curiosity as he asked, "You play?" There was a hint of intrigue and a subtle implication in his question as if he was subtly fishing for information about your involvement, or lack thereof, in the games.
You responded with a hint of bitterness, your tone carrying the weight of painful memories. "I did. I don't play anymore." The words held a mix of sadness and resentment, as your father had forcefully pushed you into the games against your will. The Frontman's gaze softened momentarily as if he sensed the pain and conflict within your words, but his mask concealed any obvious expression of sympathy or understanding.
The Frontman's eyes conveyed a mix of surprise and sympathy as he listened to your words, realizing that you had been forced to participate in such a harsh and brutal game. Though his expression remained guarded behind the mask, his eyes betrayed a sense of regret and compassion upon hearing that you had won, understanding the sacrifices you had to make to achieve that success.
Your father's laughter grew louder, his words filled with a warped sense of amusement. "You pushed everyone right into the pit!" he exclaimed, relishing in the memory of your ruthless action during the game. The Frontman's eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the cruelty and ruthlessness of the situation described. A mix of concern and curiosity danced in his gaze, still observing your reaction to your father's unsettling glee.
Your simple statement, "I needed to win," carried a mix of determination and resignation. It was a blunt admission of the ruthless mindset you had to adopt during the games to survive and succeed, a mindset likely enforced by your father's expectations.
Despite the differences in their circumstances and backgrounds, there were definite parallels between you and the Frontman. Both of you had been pushed into a world of brutality and competition, where winning at any cost was often seen as the only way to survive. The Frontman, observing you closely, couldn't help but find a familiar resolve within you, a reflection of his own.
“Ha! Or when you killed that little-“ Your sudden movement cut off your father's words, stopping him before he could finish his sentence, “Stop. Please.” The Frontman watched as you stood up abruptly, attempting to cut off the conversation before it went any further. There was a tension in the air, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words and unspoken memories. The Frontman's eyes followed you, silently observing your actions.
Your father's tone turned harsh as he scolded you, "Don't be rude!" His gaze was fixed on you, his glare filled with disapproval. The Frontman remained silent, his eyes switching from you to your father and back, observing the tension that had arisen between you both. The room felt heavy with the weight of the unresolved issues, but the Frontman remained composed, the mask concealing his true thoughts and feelings.
The Frontman's voice cut through the tension, bringing the conversation to an end. "The players will be awoken soon," he stated calmly, his tone matter-of-fact. His gaze then shifted towards you, his voice softer as he gave you a subtle command, "You may follow me." The Frontman began to stand, his movements measured and composed, waiting for you to follow his lead. The moment hung in the air, the room still tense but with a new sense of purpose as he directed you to accompany him.
The Frontman spoke politely to your father as he passed by, masking the subtle tension that lingered beneath his courteous words. "I hope you enjoy your day, sir. I shall see you for the next game," he said with a hint of formality, acknowledging your father's presence but subtly conveying that he had other matters to attend to. At that moment, the Frontman seemed to be subtly asserting some level of control, leaving your father behind as he made his way out of the dining hall, expectantly waiting for you to follow.
Your father smiled widely, as you walked off he offered the Frontman some advice, “Oh, and if she doesn’t listen don’t be afraid to get stern with her.”
The Frontman remained calm and composed, but his jaw clenched slightly at your father's instruction. Though he kept his expression hidden behind the mask, there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes at your father's words. The Frontman nodded in acknowledgment, "Understood," he replied, his voice cool and controlled. The moment stretched on for a beat as the implications of your father's words lingered in the air, but the Frontman kept walking, his steps confident and measured, waiting for you to catch up and follow him.
You followed the Frontman into the elevator, silently joining him as the doors slid shut, closing off the tense atmosphere of the dining hall. Inside the elevator, the space felt somewhat claustrophobic, the silence between the two of you charged with unspoken tension. As the elevator began to ascend, you and the Frontman stood side by side, your thoughts likely churning with a mix of emotions and questions.
The Frontman, as if sensing the weight of your thoughts, remained silent for a moment, allowing the tension to hang heavy in the air. The quiet in the elevator only seemed to amplify the memories and emotions that were churning within you. It was as if he could sense the weight of your past, the haunting memories of the games, and the actions you had been forced to take. The mask obscured his expression, but his eyes seemed to convey a mix of understanding and empathy.
The Frontman's voice suddenly cut through the silence, his words resonating deeply. "It was not your fault," he said, his tone soft but firm. For the briefest moment, the mask seemed to slip, revealing a hint of compassion and understanding in his eyes. The words were simple, but they carried a weight that seemed to touch upon the very core of your internal turmoil.
The sadness in your tone was palpable as you spoke, revealing a hint of remorse and self-blame. "Yeah, it is," you said with a tinge of sorrow, "I could've given up." A moment of self-admonishment hung in the air, followed by a scoff as you admitted, "But I kept thinking, if I won, maybe he'd be proud of me." It was as if the weight of your father's expectations weighed heavy on your shoulders, pushing you to endure and even win in the games despite the trauma it caused.
As the elevator doors slid open, they revealed a large, black room that seemed to be the heart of the operation - the control room. The space was lined with monitors and cubicles, filled with staff members diligently working, monitoring various feeds and screens. The scale and scope of the room, coupled with the dim lighting, gave it an almost eerie aura, a reminder of the high-stakes nature of the games.
The Frontman's voice echoed through the control room, his words direct and authoritative, addressing the staff members. "Soldiers, this is an ally from the US Games," he announced, his tone firm yet composed. "She will be shadowing our location and learning about how we operate. Be respectful, or there will be consequences." His words were clear and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. The staff members quickly acknowledged the directive with nods or murmured responses, their focus remaining on their tasks with a hint of wariness towards the new presence in their midst.
You followed closely behind the Frontman, stepping up onto the black pedestal that perched above the control room floor. Standing beside him, you surveyed the array of screens that displayed real-time footage from various cameras, capturing the players' movements within their room. It was as if you were witnessing a macabre dance of life and death, each screen a window into the tense world the players inhabited.
“What’s on the walls behind the beds?” You question as you view the simply drawn figures on the walls. The Frontman briefly glanced at the screen your eyes were on, before answering your question. "Those are illustrations of the games the players will be participating in," he explained, his tone measured but not without a touch of dry humor.
As you viewed the screen, you couldn't help but smirk, pointing out a crucial detail. "And not one of them has noticed," you commented in a mix of amusement and anticipation. The players, engrossed in their desperate struggles, had failed to recognize the subtle details that hinted at the larger machinations at play. The Frontman glanced at you, appreciating your perceptiveness.
Your smirk elicited a small smile from the Frontman, as he acknowledged your sharp observation. "Indeed," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "It seems their focus on survival has blinded them to the subtleties around them." He observed the players' cluelessness with a mix of admiration and detachment, his thoughts hidden behind the mask.
Your gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching as the guards made their entrance into the players' room. The numbers flashed on the screen, "Out of 456 players, 255 were eliminated, and 201 successfully completed the first game," the announcement boomed. The players in the room reacted with an understandable level of panic, crying and pleading to be allowed to go home. The Frontman stood beside you, watching the chaotic scene unfold, his eyes scanning the monitors with cool observation.
Your gaze was drawn to the screen where a woman was desperately pleading for mercy, getting down on her knees and sobbing. "Mister, please," she pleaded, her voice filled with despair. "I'm sorry. I swear I'll pay what I owe. I'll do it, I'll pay it all!" Her desperate pleas hung in the air, the weight of her guilt and fear evident in her voice. The Frontman watched with an almost detached air, observing the players' reactions with a flicker of emotion hidden behind his mask.
As you watched the scene unfold on the screen, another woman, in a state of desperation, joined the plea. "Please, sir," she cried out, her voice quivering. "I have a child. So young, I need to register, and I need to name my child, sir." The woman's words resonated with sorrow and vulnerability, her love and concern for her child evident in her plea. The Frontman stayed silent, observing the unfolding events with a mix of cool composure and hidden emotions.
Your words carried a hint of disbelief and mockery. "Mother of the year," you remarked, a sarcastic edge to your tone. The irony of the woman's circumstances, with her child not even having a name, was not lost on you. The Frontman glanced at you, his expression obscured, but there was a subtle twitch of his lips as if he agreed with your sentiment.
The guard's words rang out, addressing the players in a firm and authoritative tone. "If you just follow the rules," he stated, "you can leave this place safely with the prize money we promised." The Frontman listened attentively, his gaze shifting between the players on the screen and you, his expression still unreadable.
As you continued to observe the interactions on the screen, you couldn't help but express your admiration. "This is so much better than ours," you muttered, the words carrying a hint of appreciation. The Frontman listened to your comment, his eyes flickering towards you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Your observation reflected the stark contrast between the two games, a subtle commentary on the differences in management and execution.
The Frontman's response was matter-of-fact, yet tinged with a hint of pride in the organization's efficiency. "Everyone here follows a very strict schedule to ensure every goal is met with satisfaction for the VIPs," he stated, his words carrying a certain level of satisfaction. The mention of VIPs added a sense of exclusivity to the games, suggesting the involvement of high-profile individuals or sponsors.
Your sarcastic comment carried a hint of disdain for the VIPs. "Gotta love those VIPs," you said, a touch of sarcasm evident in your tone, suggesting your own thoughts on their involvement in the games.
One of the guards, momentarily distracted by your presence, turned to look at you, only to be met with your direct gaze. Your words, "I'm not your screen," carried a mix of humor and assertiveness, reminding him that he has a job to do. With a subtle gesture of your index finger, you playfully indicated for him to turn back around and focus on the task at hand. The Frontman observed the interaction with a hint of amusement, his gaze shifting between you and the guard, silently appreciating your quick wit.
The guard in the players' room spoke up, reciting the clauses from memory, "Consent form clause 1. A player is not allowed to stop playing." Your eyes remained glued to the screen, absorbing the harsh reality of the rule. The tension in the room escalated as the players continued to argue against the rules. The guard replied with an ominous tone, stating, "Consent form clause 2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated."
The player with number 218 stepped forward, challenging the rules. "Consent form clause 3. If all the players agree to stop playing, the games are allowed to end. Or am I wrong?" His words hung in the air, challenging the perceived rules and seeking a possible loophole.
The Frontman, observing the player's attempt to challenge the rules, couldn't help but acknowledge your silent praise. "Smart guy," you muttered, a hint of admiration evident in your tone. The Frontman glanced at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, revealing a hint of amusement. He, too, noticed the intelligence of the player's question, appreciating the cleverness of his attempt to find a way out.
The Frontman continued to provide further background on Cho Sang-woo, reading from his file. "Cho Sang-woo is a graduate of Seoul National University," he explained, his eyes scanning the details of the file. "He was employed at Joy Investments, where he led an investment team and embezzled his clients' money." Your eyes widened upon hearing the extent of Sang-woo's background.
Your chuckle conveyed a mix of amusement and disdain as you commented, "Of course, he did." The Frontman, listening to your comment, couldn't help but share a brief moment of subtle humor amid the tense situation. There was a hint of shared recognition in his eyes, acknowledging the irony of Sang-woo's background.
The guards in the players' room rolled out a large panel with two buttons, one red and the other green, "Leave" or "Stay," respectively. The players, having reduced in number, now had to make a collective decision. The guard's voice echoed through the room, "Before we vote, let me announce the prize money for the game, as promised." The mention of prize money reminded the players of the reason they had been lured into the games in the first place.
A large, whimsical piggy bank descended from the ceiling, adding a dramatic touch to the already tense atmosphere. You couldn't help but scoff at the extravagance, muttering, "All the dramatics here." The Frontman, sensing your reaction, playfully asked, "Do you not like it?"
Your response, "Oh, I love it," carried a tone of dry amusement and sarcasm, hinting at your appreciation for the over-the-top presentation.
The players' attention was captured by the sight of cash money pouring into the clear piggy bank, each note adding to the growing pile. The players watched with a mix of anticipation and disbelief, their eyes locking onto the escalating amount. The Frontman, observing their reactions, remained composed and silent beside you.
The guard's words echoed in the room as he addressed the players, "A total of 255 players were eliminated during the first game. A hundred million won is at stake per player. Therefore, 25.5 billion won of prize money has been accumulated so far." The mention of the potential prize money had a significant impact on the players but with a hint of hesitation. The Frontman glanced at the players, observing their reactions and the tension in the room, as the implications of the guard's words sunk in.
The guard's instructions were clear and steady, guiding the players to make their decisions. "If you wish to stop playing, then please press the red button with the X instead," he instructed. "After you finish voting, move to the other side of the white line and wait until all players have voted." The guards in the players' room moved through the remaining players, guiding them to vote in reverse order based on the numbers on their chests. The tension in the room grew palpable, as the players were faced with a crucial decision to make. The guard's voice was steady and unemotional as he instructed the players to cast their vote
The tension in the room grew as each player cast their vote, with the decision remaining neck and neck. The moment of truth came as it was time for the final player, number 1, to make the call. The Frontman and you watched in anticipation, waiting to see which option the player would choose.
The elderly man moved with a deliberate and contemplative pace as he approached the buttons, his eyes darting between the player's numbers and the choices before him. This was the critical moment where all eyes were on the elderly man, the decisive vote hanging in the air. The Frontman watched intently, his demeanor maintaining the stoic composure he was known for, while you held your breath in anticipation.
As the elderly man stared at the buttons and the players' numbers, the weight of the decision hung heavily in the air. Your hand instinctively moved to grasp the Frontman's arm, seeking a moment of support and reassurance. The tension in your grip was palpable, betraying your own nervous anticipation. The Frontman glanced at you briefly, feeling your grasp on his arm, but his attention remained fixed on the unfolding scene.
The number to leave went up by one, and the relief among the players was palpable. Cheers erupted in the room, as they celebrated knowing that they would be able to return home. The Frontman observed the players' reaction, their cheers echoing in the tense atmosphere. He could sense the mix of joy, relief, and gratitude they felt at the thought of going back to their regular lives.
You quickly realized you had been clutching the Frontman's arm, your grip tight with anticipation. Blushing slightly, you pulled your hand away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of connection. The Frontman, though seemingly unfazed, glanced at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly as if he was amused by your instinctive reaction.
As the tension in the room dissipated with the players' celebration, you turned to the Frontman and asked, "So, it's over?" Your tone carried a hint of confusion, as you hadn't experienced such a democratic process in the games before. The Frontman looked at you, picking up on your question and the implications of your father's control over your previous game.
Your eyes met the Frontman's as he responded, his tone carrying a sense of gravity. "Not entirely," he stated, his words echoing in the air, leaving you with a sense of unease. The implication was clear that there were still unexpected elements at play. The celebration and relief among the players masked the lingering tension that remained, and you braced yourself for the next twist that awaited.
The guard's words carried a blend of regret and a subtle hint of manipulation, his tone tinged with a mix of sadness and anticipation.
"It truly is a pity that we must say goodbye to you like this," he began, his voice dripping with a faux sense of sympathy. "However, we will not completely seal the door of opportunity for all of you." The players listened attentively to his words, their emotions a jumbled mix of hope and uncertainty.
"If the majority of you wish to participate again, then we will resume the game. Goodbye for now," he continued.
“How do you know they’ll come back?” The Frontman calmly looked at you, "Because human nature is predictable," he stated matter-of-factly. There was a hint of certainty in his gaze, and his words carried a sense of knowledge and awareness of the human psyche. "People have a need for money, and often, their greed and desperation overpower reason." He continued, his tone tinged with a mix of analysis and detachment.
The Frontman's analysis hit the nail on the head, and you couldn't help but acknowledge the underlying truth to his words. The players' desperation and debt-ridden lives presented the perfect environment for exploitation and manipulation. It was a harsh reality, but a predictable one.
“So, what do you do until then?”
The Frontman's gaze met yours, his eyes revealing a hint of amusement at your curiosity. "We wait for the majority of them to call the number back," he replied thoughtfully, "we continue monitoring and observing their behavior. There are surveillance systems, psychological analysis, and data collection to be done." His words carried a tone of professionalism, but there was also a subtle hint of curiosity as if he found your questions intriguing.
You nod, “it’s a real exact science, isn’t it? These games. They root directly to their needs. Greedy ones always come back.”
The Frontman nodded in agreement, appreciating your understanding. "The games are designed to appeal directly to people's needs and desires, tapping into their most primal instincts. Greed is a powerful motivator, and we rely on it to ensure their return." There was a blend of scientific precision and calculated manipulation in his words, showcasing the extent of the organization's orchestration.
The Frontman's voice carried a sense of authority as he announced, "We must go meet with your father. There is someone who would like to meet you both." With those words, the Frontman began walking towards the elevator, expecting you to follow him. The mention of meeting someone new piqued your curiosity, stirring an anticipation of what was to come.
As the Frontman mentioned your father and the need to meet with him, you couldn't help but sigh, a mix of resignation and anticipation evident in your reaction. It was clear that the thought of another encounter with your father stirred a range of emotions within you, adding an additional layer of complexity to the situation.
The Frontman observed your reaction carefully, picking up on the subtle tension in your voice. "I do not like your father," he stated simply, his voice carrying a hint of restrained disdain. There was a mix of resentment and guarded anger that lingered beneath his words, his dislike for your father evident yet controlled.
The Frontman chuckled at your response, recognizing your shared sentiment, "Welcome to the club." There was a fleeting moment of understanding and dark humor shared between the two of you, a brief but genuine connection over a mutual dislike for your father.
The Frontman smiled, his normally stoic demeanor cracking for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly under his mask. "You seem to actually be enjoying yourself, despite the circumstances," he replied, a faint hint of amusement in his tone.
As the elevator doors opened, you stepped out, a smirk playing on your lips. "Yeah. I’m full of surprises.” The Frontman followed, his eyes observing you with a mix of intrigue and amusement, clearly taken aback by your directness and sass.
~
Tagged:
@jspidey5, @angelsukiipls, @mrsyixingunicorn10 , @calistrialynna, @gagaga167, @urlocalsabito @starkeyszn
#hwang in ho fanfic#in ho fanfic#hwang in ho#hwang in ho x reader#in ho x reader#squid game fanfic#squid game#squid game x reader#player 001 x reader
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Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5
Day 6: Parallels with Rovickie
Other than the obvious one--being that Vickie has a boyfriend and Robin is jealous/ put between them--there are actually way more parallels to Rockie than I originally thought, which is why I decided to make a whole post about them!
Again, I'm gonna be stating how intentional I think each parallel is. Even if it's not intentional, it's still a proof because it's the fact they are using the same tropes for two pairings shows that they are both supposed to be seen as romantic.
1. Being Between Them
Very very intentional. The framing is the exact same except Robin is not blurred while Will is blurred. AND the fact that it's a queer character between a straight relationship as well what the actuallllll freak. The difference is the fact that Wills blurred but Robin isn't. Robin is shown to be miserable in this scene, while Will is actually happy in this scene because he is seeing El again.
2. Basically the same conversation
I also think this is kind of intentional, it's tooooo similar not to kind of be inspired by Mike's speech. Obviously, Mike is more of a main character than Vickie so I think that they decided to make her do the same thing as him because the writers see this situation as similar. It's also interesting that she, in this conversation, is talking about how much she should have broken up with her boyfriend earlier. Maybe that gives us a little insight into what Mike is feeling too :)))
ALSO ALSO the bit at the end where Vickie goes "sorry I am rambling while there are people suffering" is literally THE SAME as what Mike says when he goes "it's so stupid given everything that's going on", basically showing they both don't view their relationships as important.
3. The Gay Food Jokes
The 'try before you deny' joke is already kindofsus, but it can easily be argued against as just a little throw away line that is just meant to be a lil bit of banter. Then you see the way that Vickie says "I've made a peanut butter on peanut butter monstrosity" while both queer women are talking to each other. You see the way this kind of sounds similar to Mike going "That's blasphemous, putting fruit on pizza" before the people around him go "Try before you deny" like HAJHDGAJHSGD..... So they have the potential to make queer jokes do they??? Ones that are kind of subtle enough that only queer people pick up on them?? Yessir
4. The Same Look
I don't know if this is totally intentional but it's so perfect <3 Just two gays giving a little smile before looking away quickly teehee giggling kicking my feet.
(im not even adding analysis at this point lmao)
5. 'Cool'.
(also couldnt get a caption for this one but u know what they're saying)
Oh my god I literally yelled when I came across this while watching the scene, not expecting anything else to come up ADGAHJSDG
This is intentional to me. I think the way that the camera is right on Robin's face, the way she says the words, she just seems so IN LOVE and you can definitely see the same (if not more) in love look on Byler's faces when they say the same words. If you can see Robin saying this to Vickie as romantic and as evidence for reciprocated love, then you should definitely see the same for when Mike and Will both say it to each other.
Now that we have gotten confirmation that Robin, Vickie, Will and Mike will all be in the same scenes during season 5, I am even more excited for more parallels between two different flavours of queer couple living their best lives <3 thankyew
GUYS IVE DONE SO MUCH BYLER ANALYSIS TODAY HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY BRAIN IS FULLLL EVERYONE CLAP ME ON THE BACK AHDGAHSJGDHA
#byler#byler nation#byler endgame#mike wheeler#will byers#stranger things#stranger things 5#byler evidence#byler proof#miwiheroes daily byler#rockie
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