#like I want to get closer to it. but not in the way I’m supposed to

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

might do a part 2 where a club is chosen

[okwonyo]

INTO YOU, 或 𓈒𓈒 navigating a secret relationship.

❛𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇’ 𝗎𝗌. 𝗌𝗈, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𓈒𓈒 ❜

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 16OO fluff ── non idol au skinship kissing ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i miss summer and i desperately need winter to come huhu >< idea from my favorite oomf @soov 🎀 enjoy !

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

the cold air brushes your face as you step outside. you wrap your arms around your body, trying to get warmth by hugging yourself. 

you walk to the usual corner where your boyfriend organizes your little meeting. the weather gets colder as you walk to it, you swear it. 

it puts you in a bad mood, you can feel your eyebrow furrowing and a frown forming on your lips. 

there is a fire that lights in your freezing heart when you finally see his face. he leaning on the wall next to him, and he seems to be smiling at your misery. 

“what?” you say, harsher than you initially attended to— it doesn’t seem to bother him. not in the slightest, his smile grows wider. you smile as well, “what?” 

standing straight, he steps closer to you. so close that you have to tilt your head up to see him properly. “nothing,” he shrugs, “jus’ wanted to see you.” 

you don’t answer, just staring at him blankly. although the warmth of his words touches you, you sniff, “‘m cold, hee,” you state. 

the said ‘hee’ laughs, loudly. in a way that makes his adam apple move, in a way that makes you flush, in a way that keeps your eyes on him. 

he steps even closer, your chest gets pressed against his. he wraps his arms around you putting his face in the crook of your neck: 

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, you don’t hug him back. even though you close your eyes. “is it better now?”

you only hum before adding, “i hope no one catches us.”

JAY

the first thing you feel on your skin is the sunlight peeking through the windows’ blinds. it kisses you slowly out of sleep, welcoming you warmly in the new day. 

the second thing you feel is the gentle pressure around you and the circle of warmth— that is not yours—swallowing you whole. you hide your face further into the body in front of you. 

the arm holds you closer as you hug the body tighter. 

all your senses slowly awoke and you can progressively recognize the scent enveloping your nose. 

it smells like cologne, like a real man, like home, like home, like—

“jay!” you exclaim, jolting awake. the man groans next to you, his arm sliding on your thighs. you tap him, “jay, wake up!”

his deep, sleepy voice emerges from him, “what?” he almost whines. 

“we fell asleep,” you whisper loudly, looking at your barely conscious boyfriend. that should also definitely be anywhere but in your bed. “you are not supposed to be there!”

it looks like it takes a while for him to register, but when he finally does, he almost falls on the floor. 

he gets his shirt back on himself, kisses you quickly and escapes from the window.

JAKE

he loves when you kiss him. he loves when your soft lips brush his skin and when your mouth rests on his ever so softly. 

and you know it. he tells you always, how much he loves it, hushed and hurriedly between two kisses in the corner— hiding from the public eye. 

this is why you already know, from the look in his eyes weighing on you from right across you, that he wants to kiss you. 

he watches you amongst the crowd of all your mutual friends together and when they all leave, back turned toward you, he stays. 

he holds your waist and, in a sort of instinct, you cup his face. 

you aim for his pretty nose first, then you peck his cheek two times in a row before finally kissing him on the mouth.

“i got to go,” he whispers against your mouth before kissing one more time. 

when you look one last time on his face, you giggle— seeing lipstick strains about everywhere you kissed him. he wears them like tattoos and leaves before you can even tell him anything. 

(he is cheeks blossom with a red hue when his friends tell him about it.) 

SUNGHOON

you barely survive the entire day with someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in the tiniest room possible.

surprise doesn’t over take you anymore. you already know why you are here and who you are with. 

your boyfriend’s hand cups your jaw, gently and carefully. he tilts your head up, just a little to be able to lean in a bit and kiss you as your fingers slide in his black thick hair. 

“hi,” he says when he pulls away a tad to tilt his head to the other side. 

he kisses you senseless. loving and passionate like he usually does. his tongue slides in your mouth. you let him lick the inside of it instead of greeting him back.

his free hand hugs your waist, pulling you closer to his body, impossibly so.

your boyfriend is all over you. he takes over your senses and swallows whole. you cannot think of anything else but his hot tongue teasing yours. 

until someone tries to unlock the door and you jump, breaking the kiss and pulling a weird sound out of your lover’s throat.

“did you just bite me?” he hushes and you apologize, eyes still worriedly looking over the door. he chuckles, “i liked that.”

you beat his chest with your fist playfully.

SUNOO

he swears to you—brags even— whenever he has the chance that he is not a jealous man. 

you almost started to believe it, if it wasn’t for how often he brings it up. almost as if he is trying to gaslight you or desperately trying to convince himself, or rather manifest it. 

and you could even consider it, rethink it when you are on your own. but you can always feel it, see it in his face. 

the heaviness of his gaze whispers the truth to you. whenever you are talking to another man a few feet ahead of him. 

in your peripheral vision, his arms are crossed under his chest. and his teeth are pressed so tight against one another, that his jaw is more defined than ever.

he comes to you as soon as the stranger leaves, “who was that?” he asks, nodding his head towards the leaving man.

you study his frustrated face with an amused look. his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is frowned— he looks cute, if you were to be honest. 

you opt for something funnier, “are you jealous?”

he instantly opens his mouth, to defend himself and closes it immediately. 

his sighs, “yes,” he states. shock explodes in your stomach. “i don’t like seeing guys flirt with you,” he leans to whisper the rest in your ear: “when they don’t know you are already taken.” 

JUGWON

this entire situation seems to be very funny to your—secret—boyfriend.

it is no surprise that he is annoying in private. his fingertips melting in your sides, him tickling you, your skin getting pinched and getting a yelp out of you each time. just because he can.

and just because he can, he does his best to get a reaction out of you in public. 

sometimes, he stares at you from across the room, tilting his head to the side with a grin when your eyes lock. you ignore him each time. 

sometimes, his knuckles brush smoothly and ever so softly against your skin as he passes by you. his touch stings all day long.

today, he aims for a mixture of it. 

“look,” your friend whispers to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. her finger is pointed to his direction when you look at her, “he is doing it again.”

your boyfriend is staring at you from across the end of the hall you are walking down. he is walking towards your direction, but you tell your friend to ignore him.

he takes a step to the side as he approaches, exchanging places with his friend to walk next to you. his fingers quickly wrap around yours as your shoulder brushes. 

he holds onto it enough to make your heart skip a beat, but not enough for anyone to see.

RIKI

his hoodies are way too soft and comfortable for you to not steal. 

he always manages to find the sweetest material. the kind of tissue that his scent soaks into perfectly. a tissue that keeps his warmth days after he wears it. 

you love to be enveloped into that said material. so big and perfectly cozy like the embarrassed he locks you in.

“you want it?” he once asked you. seeing the way you buried your face in his hoodie. you shook your head against his torso, “i insist, sweetheart.”

you didn’t fight against his own wants and you find yourself in it a few days later. the cold wind doesn’t go through it when your coat gives up for a mere second and you hold onto it for dear life.

you bury your nose in it when you miss your lovely boyfriend. his cologne is still impregnated in it— it makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

when you meet each other at his, he comments: “isn’t that my hoodie you are wearing?” your cheeks get pink. “were you really walking around with that on your back?” 

you study his own outfit before answering, “and isn’t that my shirt you are wearing?” you pinch his cheek and he laughs. “i thought you hated pink, mh?”

you taught him well.

ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[strnilolover]

player!chris notices ditsy!reader being hit on uninvitedly …

Thursdays were a particularly slow day for you — your lectures were spaced out and you had lots of free time between them. Normally you’d opt for going back to your dorm, maybe take a nap or read a book to your favorite series you were reading — or work on some of the class work for some of your courses with Chris.

But, today you had chosen differently. It was bright and sunny outside, the kind of warmth that was just right to sit in and enjoy without getting too overheated.

Your body weaved through people, holding your books close to your chest as you made your way to the fountain that sat in the middle of the campus grounds. Accidentally bumping into a few people when you got too lost in thought about different subjects — muttering a quick apology before continuing your route.

As you continued to walk across campus, you pulled out your phone from your bag to text Chris. You were supposed to meet up with him soon, but he hadn’t told you where he was yet, so you decided to let him know your plans.

You: Heading to the fountain. Meet me there when you’re free!

You tucked your phone back into your bag swiftly as you finally made it to the fountain. It’s gentle bubbling and colorful flowers surrounding it — it was the perfect place to lose yourself in a book. It wasn’t long before you found a seat on the stone ledge, setting your books down and opening the dog-eared paperback you always carried.

You hadn’t been reading long when a shadow had suddenly fell across your page. Looking up, you thought it was Chris, having finally made his way to where you were — but instead you saw a group of guys standing around you, their expressions cocky and intrusive.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” one of them said, grinning. Your brows furrowed, an uneasy feeling fluttering in your chest. “Hi,” you said softly, your grip tightening on your book.

“You waitin’ for someone?” another asked, stepping closer. “’Cause it looks like you’ve got some time to kill.” his voice had this undertone to it that you couldn’t place…they didn’t seem like they were wanting to be friendly.

“I’m just reading,” you replied, your voice small as you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Reading? What’s so interesting in there?” the first guy said, leaning down to get a better look. “Bet it’s some cheesy romance novel, huh?” he teased mockingly.

You shook your head, trying to focus back on your book. “It’s not cheesy.” you muttered, trying to take your focus off of them the best you could.

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing. “You don’t need to sit here reading by yourself. We could keep you company.” he cooed, a cocky grin being placed on his lips. “That’s okay,” you murmured, hoping they’d take the hint. But instead, one of them plopped down beside you, way too close for comfort.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he said, flashing a grin. “We’re just trying to be friendly.” — yeah a little too friendly. “Yeah,” another chimed in, crouching in front of you. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, “Um…” shrinking back slightly. “I’m fine, really. I just want to read.” The guy beside you chuckled, draping an arm across the back of the ledge. “Aw, don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to sit here all by yourself. We’re just trying to get to know you.”

Before you could respond, the one in front of you reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “She’s shy,” he said, smirking. “That’s adorable.”

You leaned back away from his touch, clutching your book to your chest. “Please don’t—” but before your sentence could fully leave your lips, a sharp voice cut through the tension between you and the guys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice made you jump, and all four of the guys froze, their heads snapping toward the source. Chris was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. His blue eyes flicked to you for a moment, softening briefly before narrowing on the group of guys.

“Oh, hey, Chris,” one of them said, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t know this was your girl.”

Chris stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Doesn’t matter if she’s mine or not. What the fuck gives you the right to corner her like that?” he bit out, his teeth gritting together so hard you thought he might break them.

“Relax, man,” the guy sitting beside you said, holding up his hands. “We were just talking.”

Chris’ brow raised. “Talking?” his voice was icy, his glare cutting. “This is what you call talking? Surrounding her, getting in her face, touching her without permission? You think that’s okay?” he spat out, his body coming closer until he was standing directly in front of them.

“Come on, Chris,” one of them said, rolling his eyes. “You’re one to talk. We’ve all seen you with girls. You’re with a different one every week.” he tried to argue.

Chris’s jaw tightened more, his fists clenching at his sides. “Yeah, I’ve been with girls. But you know what I don’t do? Corner them, harass them, or make them feel uncomfortable. Don’t even try to put me in the same category as you.” he said coldly, like it was the most dumbest statement someone had tried to ever make toward him.

The guys exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado faltering. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Chris continued, his voice rising. “She was sitting here reading, minding her own business. You don’t get to pull this crap and call it flirting.” and as he said that, the guy sitting next to you stood up — the others backing up slightly.

“Chill, man. It’s not that serious,” one of them mumbled, but he wouldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “It’s serious to me,” Chris snapped. “Now get the fuck outta here before I make you.”

The group hesitated, but one look at Chris’s furious expression was enough to send them retreating with muttered apologies. Chris waited until they were out of sight before turning to you, his expression softening instantly. “You okay angel?”

You nodded shakily, clutching your book to your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” you muttered. Chris crouched down in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. “They didn’t touch you, did they?” he whispered, bringing a hand up to gently touch your cheek,

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m okay. You got here just in time.” And Chris let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good. Because if they had…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. What were they even thinking?” he muttered — more to himself than you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “They just wouldn’t leave me alone.” you said, feeling the unease in your stomach pooling more at the thought, but lessening slightly. Chris frowned, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me walk you somewhere. I don’t trust those idiots not to come back.”

And you hesitated before slowly placing your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Chris,” you whispered, looking up at him, his hands reaching for your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

His smirk returned, though it was tinged with protectiveness. “Always angel. Nobody’s allowed to do that and just get away with it. They’re lucky i didn’t break their fucking jaws. fuckin’ assholes.” he muttered as he placed his arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the building with the food court.

As the two of you walked away together, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race — partly from the lingering nerves, but mostly from the way Chris looked at you — the way he protected you.

What was this feeling?

© strnilolover

[yamumsyadadd]

Las Blancas v Barca

teresa abelleira x barca!leon reader

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

It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, or to come crashing down in the way it did. 

Tere wasn’t that much older than you, just four years. It was less than AMC and Mapi’s age gap but to your big sister, Tere was ancient. 

You officially met Tere when you were called up to the Spanish squad after the Las 15, at barely 18 years old it felt like a huge responsibility, and it was. Mapi had resigned from the team, as had fourteen other players. It look a lot of difficult conversations with Mapi, your parents, and Irene before you accepted. Even though Mapi had she she didn’t want to hold you back or hinder your career in anyway, you could tell there was a part of her that was disappointed. Not in you, but in the RFEF. 

It was the beginning of the rift between the two of you and that’s why your relationship with the Las Blancas player was kept a secret. From everyone. 

“Hi! I’m Tere, you’re Mapi’s little sister right?” 

“Yeah, y/n. Nice to officially meet you.” We shook hands in the lobby of the RFEF accommodation quarters. 

“Vilda asked me to show you around.” You walked around for a while, Tere showing you the lounge area, the cafeteria and the kitchen room. “It’ll be good to get to know you when we aren’t battling against each other on the field!” She laughed and you knew then you were in trouble. 

Ever since that first day at camp, you were in deep. The curly haired, freckled face girl forced her way into your heart. No matter how hard you tried, she was always in your head, even when you were back in Barcelona and she was in Madrid. 

It was in Australia after the World Cup final when all the feelings came out. 

“Tere! We are world champions! World fucking champions!” The alcohol was coursing through your veins at the point, slightly aware of what you were thinking but the ability to stop yourself wasn’t there. 

“We are! And there’s no one else I’d rather do it with.” The skin under her hands made you tingle.

“You’re so beautiful.” It was meant to be a whisper but it was the complete opposite. 

Her lips came crashing down onto yours. It took a few seconds for your mind to register that this was a real thing and not just one of your many frequent dreams. Those few seconds was all it took for Tere to pull back, looking slightly horrified. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sor-“ it was your lips that shut her up. The only way you could describe the feeling of kissing her was like coming home. You both got carried away before she gently stopped. 

“Go on a date with me?” You agreed embarrassing fast. 

The dates were hard to navigate once you were back in Spain but you made it work and now, almost a year later, you were happy in your relationship even if it was a secret. 

It was the first camp back after the disappointing loss that followed the Olympics. Spains first, and potentially last. Finishing fourth and losing the bronze medal game was heartbreaking, for all those involved. There were photos that showed you and Tere looking a little more than teammates but not enough for anyone to truly say anything. But that didn’t apply to Jenni. 

As much as you loved her, she irritated you more than anyone else. Her reasoning was that she was just as much your sister as Mapi was and since Mapi wasn’t there to give you shit, she did it on her behalf. 

It was meant to be just gentle teasing, all in good nature. But after a while it got to you. Instead of being mature and actually discussing it with your girlfriend, you just completely ignored her. 

“Y/n!” Her footsteps were getting closer so you started walking faster, “amor!” She caught up to you easily, grabbing your wrist to spin you around, “why are you ignoring me? What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t deal with it anymore!” 

“With what?” 

“The-the teasing, the jokes, everything! At first it was whatever but now? Now they kept saying how much Mapi would hate it, ‘Barça v Real on the field but lovers in the bedroom’, not everything is about fucking sex.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can ask Jenni to stop?”

“No, god no. Then she’ll know it’s true.” Tere dropped your hand, a look of hurt flashing across her face. 

“Is that really so bad? People knowing that you’re my girlfriend?” 

“Tere we both agreed, we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that it? I know that Barça and Real have a huge rivalry but I didn’t realise you would be so ashamed to be seen with me.” 

“Tere wait!” It was no use, she was already gone, “that wasn’t even what I meant.” 

Begrudgingly, you decided to join the dinosaurs in the rec room. Jenni and Misa were playing pool and Alexia and Irene were on the couch. You forced yourself between your two captains, head following onto Alexia’s shoulder. 

“You okay nena?” Irene poked your cheek. 

“No I messed things up.” Both girls gave you a curious look, encouraging you to carry on, “I may have said something that I shouldn’t have to someone and it hurt their feelings but my feelings were hurt first and now they are mad at me.” 

“Is this person someone who is important to you?” 

“Very. I love her, so much and I want everyone to know how much but it’s hard.” 

“There’s a difference between private and a secret. Which one does this girl fall under?” 

“A secret.” You mumbled out, knowing that chastising you were going to receive. 

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and say that you and this mystery girl agreed to keep your relationship a secret during the World Cup but now she wants to tell people?” Irene gave you a knowing smile, all you could do is nod your head. 

“I think you’re overdue for a proper conversation with Tere.” Your head shot up at Alexia’s words, eyes wide as if you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, “she’s a good person. I would say great but she plays for Real. Go talk to her.” 

You shot up on your feet, quickly hugging and kissing both their cheeks and then you were off. It took a lot of grovelling and the promise to slowly start telling people. 

There was a plan in place, it had been throughly discussed and agreed upon but that all turned to shit as soon as you entered the locker room after the first El Classico game of the season. 

Everyone was extremely happy, as usual. Standing there, at the door way, you just blurted it out. 

“I’m in love with Teresa Abelleria and we have been dating for a year.” The entire room fell silent, everyone slowly turning to look at you, but all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. That was definitely not the plan. 

“What?” It was your sister’s voice that cut through the silence. 

“I, um-“ 

“A year? An entire fucking year and you kept this from me?” Mapi had started to make her way towards you, fury filled her face. 

“I was planning on telling you. I was. But I needed time to figure it out myself and not have anyone butt in with their unwanted opinions.” 

“My opinion doesn’t matter to you? That’s a bit rough. Your opinion matters to me, y/n.”

“Mapi that’s not what I meant and you know that!” 

“Then what did you mean! Use your fucking words!” She yelled. Everyone in the locker room was just watching it unfold. 

“Ever since I got called up to the senior team you’ve been disappointed in me! After every single game you always tell me what I need to do better, never once have you said ‘you played well today’ it’s always critical! So I’m sorry that I didn’t want to give you something else to criticise me for.” You turned and slammed the door open. 

After mindless walking, you found the Real Madrid locker room, you knocked before you entered, not wanting to walk in on anyone naked or worse, a useless pep talk. Tere noticed the dry tears straight away, pulling you into her chest and whispering reassurances in your ear. It took a while before you calmed down. 

“Talk to her amor. Listen to her and talk to her. I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” She kissed your cheek and squeezed your hand before leaving. 

The bus ride was tense. Mapi and Ingrid were talking in hushed voices, occasionally glancing over towards you but you never noticed, too far in your own head. 

“Y/n can we please talk?” Mapi asked nervously after you’d all gotten off the bus. 

“I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, following her line of sight to see Alexia and Ingrid looking over. 

“I was mad at you for keeping a secret but that wasn’t fair of me. You have every right to keep your relationships private and not tell me.” 

“Okay, good night.” 

“No! Wait! You said, you said I have been disappointed in you since you were called up but that’s not true. Absolutely not true, I am so proud. I’m just scared, scared that they will treat you like they treated me and the others.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “you have always been the biggest light. You are so pure, so full of sunshine and I didn’t want them to take it away from you but in being scared, I didn’t realise I would be the reason that you lost your light. So I’m sorry, so incredibly sorry and I’ll spend everyday making it up to you.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah. Tomorrow Tere and I are going out for breakfast. Do you and Ingrid want to come?” 

“YES!” Mapi shouted, jumping onto you and wrapping her limbs around. 

Breakfast the following morning was tense. Mapi looked angry, Ingrid just ignored her and continued to ask Tere questions to get to know her, actually caring about her answers. 

“Mapi, I need to apologise to you.” Tere said nervously. 

“What?” Mapi looked taken aback. 

“Throughout the whole Las 15 issues I didn’t stand by you. I did things and said things that I regret. I am so sorry for that, if I could I would go back and change everything. Stand by all of you from day one. The club- they wouldn’t let us. It was them or you and I didn’t want to lose my position on the team.” You gave her hand a squeeze for reassurance. It was a conversation that you had both many times. 

“Thanks for apologising. It hurt to know that my own national teammates didn’t have my back. Truly, I wish you all the best but I will never return. I hope you’re looking after my little sister when she’s there.” 

“Of course!” 

“Good because if you hurt her, I will ruin you.” She said it with a big smile on her face and Tere audibly gulped. 

“Maria!” 

It definitely took some time for Mapi to see you as a grown up in a relationship and there were some arguments about the age difference but all in all everything went smoothly. On camp, Mapi made the dinosaurs watch over the both of you. Never allowed to have time alone with Tere. The dinosaurs took her under their wing, just like they had with you. 

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 8

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Jon barely shifted the Mustang into park before jumping out and sprinting toward the house's front door. “Dom!” he called, frowning as the house was deathly quiet. Glancing back, he noticed her car was not parked out front, and his heart sank further. He then walked over to the garage door, his frown deepening as he noticed it empty too. 

Sighing. Jon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dom’s number, cursing as it went straight to voicemail “Fuck” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “So fucking stupid.” 

He tried calling Dom two more times before calling her sister. 

“Hello?” 

“Muf–” 

“You fucked up.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jon replied, trying to keep his temper in check. “I need to talk to her, she with you?” 

“Mmhm,” Desiree, replied as she looked over at her sister who was sitting on the couch, staring off into space. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you, Jon.” 

“Look, just put her on the pho–” 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Desiree stood from her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen. “Going back to your ex is crazy Jon! What were you thinking?!” 

“I didn’t go back to my damn ex! I just–” 

“You just what? Went over there to chill?” She scoffed  “Just give her time. She’ll come  to you when she’s ready.” Desiree didn’t give him a chance to respond before she hung up the phone. 

“FUCK!” Jon yelled out and threw his phone down on the table. 

DominiqueWalkerr_

liked by jonathanfatu, uceyjucey and 800,000 others

DominiqueWalkerr_: felt cute, definitely gonna delete later 💋

view all comments

jonathanfatu: 😘 😮‍💨❤️

user: i miss jimmy with naomi!

↪user: YESS! was just talking about that on twitter! THEY complemented each other!

↪ jonathanfatu: don't do that! Take this shit outta my fiance's comments.

Friday Afternoon

Dominique stayed with her sister for the rest of the week. In her mind, she and Jon were over. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He ran back to his ex again ain't no way she was just going back to him. While she was in the wrong for not being honest about her stance on marriage he was even more wrong. 

Dominque let out an audible groan as she made her way into the arena that was hosting Friday Night Smackdown. She had tried every excuse in the book to get the day off, but it was short notice and they would have nobody to fill in for her. 

“Now whose ass do I have to beat for putting a frown on that pretty face.” Dominque stopped walking at the sound of a very familiar voice. She had a wide smile on her face as she made eye contact with Dave and walked closer to him. 

“Dave?! What are you doing here?” She said, giggling as he pulled her into a hug and lifted her off her feet.”

Dave Bautista looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Before Jon, Dave was the one Dominique thought she was going to marry. But after he left the WWE in 2014, their relationship couldn’t handle the distance. Their split was amicable,  with both of them being extremely civil with each other.  But as Dominique stood there in front of the first man she ever loved, she couldn’t help but think this was a sign. Maybe Dave was the one she was supposed to be with. 

“Y’all in my neck of the woods. Of course, I had to come by and see Hunter.” He said answering her question. “And you.” He muttered the last part, as his eyes did a sweep over her, she didn’t miss the way his stare locked on her bare ring ringer before meeting her eyes again. They stood there staring at each other before they both burst into laughter. 

“Whatever Dave.” She said as she rolled her eyes. 

“I had to try, I mean imagine my surprise when I found out you were engaged to little Jonathan Fatu. You know I used to hang out with his pops and uncles back in the day.” 

“You make it seem like you’re so old Dave,” Dominique said, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

“I'm 53 years old Dee. I think that's pretty old.” They both laughed. 

“Oh fuck” Josh whispered, his eyes bugging out his head and she saw Dominique and Dave fucking Bautista talking. “Oh shit Uce… this ain’t good.” He said looking over to Joe who seemed very disinterested.  “Go interrupt them” 

“What?” Joe snorted, raising an eyebrow at Josh  Why me?” 

Josh sucked his teeth. “Cause ain’t you like friends with him or something.”  Joe let out a huff and began to walk towards Dave and Dominique but Jon stepped in front of him. 

“Um hello, you two don’t know how to answer a phone?” 

“Oh, uh..” Josh trailed off as his eyes flickered behind Jon. Jon frowned and turned around to see what Josh was looking at and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered as he watched Dave lean down and hug Dominique. his voice thick with disbelief as he watched Dominique respond to Dave's hug. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dominique’s face. The way she looked at Dave—it wasn’t just a friendly exchange. It was something else, something that made Jon’s chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected. He could feel his pulse quickening, the jealousy crawling up his throat, even as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Jon…” Josh said hesitantly, but Jon wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were locked on Dominique and Dave, his body tense with a mix of frustration, helplessness, and raw jealousy. “Aye man, relax.. They could just be catching up.” 

Josh and Joe shared a look before returning their attention to Jon who was glaring at Dave and Dominique. “Uce, do not go over there and start shit… Be level-headed. That’s Hunter’s boy… we don’t need no shit coming our way.” Joe warned. Jon sucked in a deep breath and gave Joe a curt nod before walking over to Dominique and Dave. 

Jon clenched his jaw tight as he made his way over to the pair. He cleared his throat as he got closer, causing Dom and Dave to look over in his direction. Dave looked between the of them before excusing himself. “Can I talk to you?” Jon asked her, his voice coming off more hostile and rough than he intended. 

“Jon..” Dominique trailed off with a sigh, her shoulder sagging as she turned her attention to him. “I don’t wanna fight with you.” 

"I don't want to fight either," Jon said, his tone softening slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I just - You gotta know I wasn’t on no disrespectful shit Dom. I wasn’t even thinking... I was going to my mom’s and I just…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have went in. I should have come back home to you.” 

“But you didn’t. Like honestly I’m at fault here too right? I mean I wasn’t honest about my stance on marriage but I have and would never do the shit that you did. Give that girl your number. Foul as fuck. And I forgave you for the whole Trinity situation the first time but now… I can’t” 

“I know I messed up,” Jon repeated, trying to keep his voice steady, but now refusing to make eye contact with her. “But, Dom, I didn’t go to Trinity for some… rebound or whatever you’re thinking. I just needed to clear my head. But that kiss.” He stopped himself, his eyes going wide as he looked over at her. He watched as Dominque inhaled a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“What kiss?” Dominique asked, he heart now pounding in her chest. 

“Dominique, please. I– she kissed me but I pushed her away immediately.” He tried to reach out and grab her hand but she shook her head and backed away from him. 

“Sure, okay,” She said as she rolled her eyes, not believing a word he said... “Here I was, just telling Dave that I was gonna swallow my pride and apologize to you and you out here running back to your ex?!” 

“I wish you stop saying that shit.” he hissed. “Ain’t nobody running back to Trin.” By now. Josh and Joe had walked closer to them ready to separate the couple.  Dominique snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“So if you’re not running back to her what are you doing then?! You got drunk and went to her. You left our home and went to her and then your standing here telling me you kissed her?!” Dominique scoffed as she started backing away from Jon. “Nah, you got it. It’s obvious that you wanna still be with Trinity so i’m not gonna stop you. Go feel the glow or whatever.” 

Josh coughed out a laugh whiched cause Jon and Joe to glare over at him. 

“Dominique wait! Just listent to me.” Jon called out as he started following her down the hall. “I want you. I want to be with you! I wanna work this out.” 

Dominique suddenly stopped, causing him to almost bump into to her. She turend on her heels and glared at him. “I wanted to work this out too. But.. I can’t.. Not after you just told me you kissed her.”  Dominique shook her head and turned around again to walk away from Jon only to bump into someone. Once she seen who it was, she wasn’t able to hold back her emotions anymore. 

Dominique watched as Trinity gasped and looked past her to look at Jon, and that’s when Dominique lost it. Dominique's fist connected with Trinity's jaw before anyone could react. The sound of the impact echoed through the hallway, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. Trinity stumbled backward, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“Oh shit!” Josh called out, him and Joe rushing foward to try to stop the fight along with Jon. 

“Dominique!” Jon called out, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her away from Trinity before she could land another hit. “Stop.. Chill baby.” 

Dominique wrangled her way out of Jon’s grasp and before she could stop herself, she slapped him in his face. “I swear to god... I’m done. Stay the hell away from me!” She hastily wiped away the tears that were now coming down her eyes, she gave him one more heartbroken glance before walking away. 

Authors Note: huh... i mean y'all did say Dom was gonna drive Jon into the arms of another woman 😬

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

🏷️: @empressdede @abadbitchblogs @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @girlwhogaf

@alyyaanna @paigereeder @amandairene88 @skyesthebomb @yana3sworld

@rantfandombloggg @jeyusosgirl @southerngirl41 @wooahmiri @theninthwonder

@saintaquarius @raya-hunter01 @rebelrel0987 @feelinuceyy @jaethaone

@black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @xmonetsworld

@li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste @reci1996 @trashbin-nie @shayaaaaaaa

@bebesobrielo @kat3457 @queeny23 @privateeyed95 @xbriexx

@nbanenefrmdao @theglamclosetsl @rianasixx

[tinytinyblogs]

Do it again, and things will get ugly.

Yandere skz not pleased with your little habit—make sure you understand that.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

You’re completely immersed in your book, the world around you fading as you turn the pages. Reading is your favorite escape, a quiet comfort that brings you peace. But just as you’re sinking deeper into the story, a hand suddenly snatches the book out of your grasp. You blink, startled, realizing that Han is standing in front of you. Without warning, he hurls the book across the room with a force that sends it crashing against the wall, the loud thud jolting you out of your peaceful reverie. The book lands on the floor, pages crumpled, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. “Have you even noticed I’ve been here this whole time?” His voice cuts through the silence, filled with a sharp edge of anger that makes your heart skip a beat. “Are those stupid words more interesting to you than me?” There’s frustration in his tone, but there’s something else too—a raw vulnerability, as if he’s trying to mask his own insecurities with anger. You look up at him, seeing the mixture of hurt and irritation in his eyes. It’s more than just frustration; it’s a deep-seated insecurity that rears its head every time you lose yourself in your hobbies.

He hates the way your books seem to draw you away, making him feel like an outsider, as if he’s competing with words on a page for your attention. And no matter how much he tries to ignore it, it eats at him, making him question how much you truly care. He lets out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “Do you even care that I’m here?” he demands, his voice breaking slightly. “Or am I just supposed to sit around, watching you get lost in your own world, feeling like I don’t even exist to you?” His words hang in the air, heavy and filled with an ache he can’t fully hide. You open your mouth to respond, but he continues, the frustration spilling over. “Maybe I should just burn all those books—would that finally get your attention? Make you look at me, instead of always burying yourself in them?” There’s a desperation in his voice now, a vulnerability that’s almost painful to witness, as if he’s baring a part of himself he doesn’t want you to see. For him, it’s not just about the books or your hobbies—it’s about the fear that maybe he’s not enough to hold your attention, that he’ll never mean as much to you as those stories do.

And as he stands there, waiting for you to say something, you can see how much this truly bothers him, how much he longs for reassurance that he’s not invisible to you. "If you want to keep those books, you'd better not get too lost in them," he says, his voice low and firm, each word measured and carrying an unmistakable warning. He steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours, trapping you between his arms as he braces himself on either side of you. The intensity in his eyes pins you in place, leaving you feeling cornered, as if there’s nowhere to escape his scrutiny. "I don’t like it when you ignore me," he continues, his tone tinged with a simmering frustration. His eyes are dark and unwavering, searching yours as if demanding an answer, needing to know that you understand what he’s saying. There’s a raw, almost possessive edge in his voice, a silent insistence that you remember he’s here—that he’s the one who should have your attention. He leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, his presence consuming the space between you. “Make sure you’ve got that in your mind,” he says, his voice soft yet laced with a hint of a warning, as if he’s daring you to look away or challenge him.

Felix

Felix’s grip on his glass tightens so much that his knuckles turn a stark white against the dark wood of the bar. He watches you, his gaze unwavering, stormy, his jaw set hard as if biting back words he doesn't want to say. Every so often, he brings his drink to his lips, taking a slow, controlled sip, but his eyes never leave you. His attention is riveted on you, locked onto the way you throw your head back with laughter, the way you lean in, smiling, as you engage with the people around you. He’s watching every detail, every casual brush of your hand, every animated gesture, every sparkling smile you offer to those sitting beside you. The laughter surrounding you fills the space like a bright, airy melody, but in Felix’s mind, it’s a sound that grates on his nerves, reminding him of something he hates to admit, something he can’t help but resent. He watches you throw yourself into every conversation with that effortless charm of yours, capturing everyone’s attention without even trying. It's something he’s never understood about you—the way you seem drawn to the energy and approval of others, the way you seem to thrive under their gaze.

And you do it all so naturally, like it’s second nature to you, as if it’s simply who you are. But the thought gnaws at him, unsettling him in a way he can’t control. Why do you care so much about what they think? He wonders why his own presence, his own attention, doesn’t seem to be enough for you. Isn’t that all you need? He’s always been there, always the one standing closest to you, watching you, knowing all the little things that make you laugh, the ways your eyes light up, the little gestures you make when you’re deep in conversation. But as much as he knows you, as much as he feels connected to you, this part of you—the part that shines for everyone—remains just beyond his grasp. As soon as the two of you were alone, he grabbed your arm and dragged you back to his place, his grip firm and unrelenting. The door slammed shut behind you, echoing through the room and leaving a tension that was thick and unsettling. His sudden change in demeanor left you feeling uneasy, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. He fixed you with a cold, penetrating stare, his gaze so intense it felt like it was stripping away every layer of defense you had.

"Is it fun getting their attention?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a quiet rage that made his words all the more frightening. The question hung in the air, his deep voice dripping with accusation, making it feel like he could shatter you with just a look. "Is it fun to bask in anyone else's attention but mine? Because from where I’m standing," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "it doesn’t look like there’s anything ‘good’ in you having me but acting like you’re so starved for attention that you have to seek it from anyone else, like some lonely soul without a lover." He took a few slow, deliberate steps toward you, each one calculated, closing the distance between you as his towering frame loomed over you. The intensity in his eyes didn’t waver, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. "This is my warning," he murmured, his voice chilling and measured. "Consider yourself lucky. If I find out you pull something like that again, I’ll make sure you never have the chance to grab anyone’s attention. Ever again." The promise was dark and unmistakable, sending a shiver through you as his gaze held you firmly in place, every word he said echoing in your mind.

Seungmin

It felt profoundly unfair to Seungmin when you didn’t show any gratitude for all the effort he poured into everything he did for you. Every small gesture, every thoughtful act, meant the world to him, yet your indifference stung deeply. He couldn't shake off the frustration that churned within him, particularly when he sensed your ignorance of all his hard work. As you simply nodded at the dessert he had painstakingly learned to make once he discovered it was your favorite, he felt a flicker of anger ignite inside him. The spoon he held felt like a fragile thing in his grip, and he squeezed it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his emotions. Moments later, unable to bear it any longer, he slammed the spoon onto the table with a sharp clatter that broke the silence, the sound reverberating in the air like a sudden thunderclap. He stood up abruptly, the movement sending a ripple of shock through the room, and began to circle the dining table, his frustration palpable with each stride he took toward you.

He stopped directly in front of you, his expression a mix of hurt and exasperation. “Do you even realize how much I put into this?” he demanded, his voice low but charged with emotion. “I wanted to do something special for you, and all you can do is nod?” The tension between you crackled, and he could feel his heart racing, caught between his desire to express his feelings and the hurt that came from your apparent indifference. His hand trembled with barely contained anger as he faced you, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. “All the things I do for you...” he began, his voice strained, carrying the weight of his frustration. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, trying to rein in the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to spill over. He needed to calm himself, to gather his thoughts before he let his anger get the best of him. “All the things!” he continued, his voice rising slightly as he struggled to keep his composure. “Can’t you at least say a damn thank you?” The plea hung in the air, echoing with a mix of desperation and hurt.

He looked at you, searching for any sign of acknowledgment, any hint that you recognized the effort he poured into every small gesture, every thoughtful act he had done for you. "Eat this. Now." Seungmin’s voice was low but laced with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His eyes held a stern, unyielding gaze, the kind that left no room for argument. He leaned in closer, his tone taking on a dangerous edge as he spoke, "And from now on, you’re going to be more aware, more grateful for every single damn thing I do for you. Understand?" He held out the spoon firmly, his grip tightening as if daring you to defy him. The way he looked at you made it clear that he expected nothing less than compliance. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, that sent a chill down your spine. "You wouldn’t want to see me mad again, would you?" he added, his voice dropping to a quiet but potent warning. The threat lingered in the air, a reminder of the weight his anger carried, and his gaze bore into you, making it clear that he expected you to listen.

Jeongin

He gets visibly frustrated whenever he sees you stumble or drop something, his eyes always drawn to your every clumsy move, each one stirring his concern. Ironically, he’s just as prone to accidents himself; he knows firsthand how easy it is to get hurt in a split second. Perhaps that’s exactly why his frustration with you grows—it’s not just annoyance but genuine worry because he knows just how much a small misstep can lead to something serious, as he's experienced so many times himself. To keep you safe, he’s become hyper-vigilant, watching over you more closely than you might like. He practically has eyes in the back of his head, always noticing when you’re about to trip or reach for something potentially hazardous. Sometimes, his protectiveness feels almost smothering; he keeps such a close watch that you feel he’s always in the room with you, guiding your every movement, as if trying to control every factor around you. Even when he’s not physically present, you’ll receive a flurry of messages, checking in on what you’re doing and reminding you to be cautious.

Just as your fingers hover over the knife handle, his hand darts out, intercepting you with a firm grasp. “How many times have I told you not to cook by yourself?” he says sharply, his tone tinged with impatience and a protectiveness that feels like it’s crossed the line into control. His gaze is unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. You let out a sigh, a flicker of frustration and defiance slipping into your voice as you answer, “But I want to. I can handle it. I’m not as helpless as you think.” His expression doesn’t soften for a moment. If anything, your words only seem to harden his resolve. “Just because you want to,” he begins, his voice a low, steady warning, “you think that means I’m going to stand by and let you mess with something that could hurt you?” His eyes flash with an almost parental authority, a refusal to back down. ���That’s not how this works.” With a purposeful motion, he nudges the knife away from your reach with the toe of his shoe, making his stance clear.

“If I say no, it’s no,” he states firmly, his voice carrying an edge that’s impossible to ignore. He grips your wrist with a sudden, unyielding force, his fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to make you wince. The pressure is intense, almost as if he wants to leave a lasting mark, a reminder of his control. His gaze is sharp, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. “Understand?” he asks, his voice low and clipped, each word carrying a weight that makes his intentions unmistakably clear. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” he continues, his voice tightening. “If I ever catch you doing something I told you not to…” He pauses, allowing the silence to hang between you, thick and charged. His eyes hold yours, unblinking, dark with a fierce resolve that sends a chill down your spine. “I’ll make sure you learn to obey me.” The words linger in the air, a promise and a threat, making it clear that he won’t tolerate any disobedience. His grip remains firm, unyielding, almost daring you to defy him as he lets the message settle in, making sure you know exactly what he expects from you.

[jayden-writes]

safe

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~3k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, whump

cw: kidnapping, strangulation, threats, violence, murder

summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic

A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.

Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.

When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?

Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.

“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”

“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.

“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”

Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.

Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”

Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”

You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.

“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”

Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.

“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”

As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.

With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.

Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.

Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.

“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.

Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”

With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.

“You're okay,” he simply echoed.

Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.

“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.

“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.

“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-

“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.

“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.

“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”

“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.

“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.

After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.

“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.

[daisymbin]

Hi, belle! I love your writing 🤍

Can I ask for suggestive prompt 15? w/ jeonghan + fem reader

him being the person to say this in the middle of a fight while the reader wants to fight and he's clearly thinking about something more interesting

hi anon!! such an interesting take omg yes!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

suggestive prompt #15: "if you keep talking like that, I won't be able to hold back."

“you’re so stubborn, jeonghan,” you snap, pacing back and forth across the living room. your voice is sharp, cutting through the otherwise quiet apartment. “do you even realize how frustrating you are?”

jeonghan watches you from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his head tilted lazily against the cushion. his dark eyes follow your every movement, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the irritation etched into your face.

“i think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says, his tone light and teasing, as though your anger is nothing more than a passing breeze.

you stop pacing and whirl to face him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “this isn’t a joke, jeonghan. i’m being serious.”

he sits up slightly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “oh, i know you’re serious,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “you always get this cute little crease between your brows when you’re mad.”

you glare at him, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. “stop trying to distract me. you can’t just—”

“can’t just what?” he interrupts smoothly, standing up in one fluid motion. he’s in front of you in an instant, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “can’t just call out the fact that you’re practically glowing right now? that you’re so worked up it’s actually kind of... hot?”

your breath catches, your resolve faltering as his words sink in. but you shake your head, trying to regain your footing. “you think you can just... sweet-talk your way out of everything, don’t you?” frustration still bubbling within you.

his smirk widens, and he steps closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming. “and what if i do? is it working?”

“no,” you snap, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you. “we’re supposed to be having a serious conversation right now, jeonghan. you can’t just... just flirt your way through it!”

he hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your words. “maybe i’m not flirting,” he says softly, his voice low and velvety. “maybe i’m just trying to remind you of something more important.”

“and what’s that?” you ask, your frustration boiling over.

his lips ghost over yours, the slightest hint of contact that makes your knees weak. “i think we both know who’s really in control here.”

his gaze darkens, his smirk fading into something more intense. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long.

“if you keep talking like that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “i won’t be able to hold back.”

your heart stops, your breath hitching as his words hang in the air. his fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“jeonghan,” you say, your voice trembling. “don’t change the subject. we were—”

“were we?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “because all i can think about right now is how hot you look when you’re this fired up.”

your mouth opens to respond, but his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “you don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?” he whispers, his lips so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

your hands rise instinctively to press against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “hannie,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest.

“tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours. “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop right now.”

but you don’t.

instead, you tilt your head up, closing the small distance between you as your lips meet his.

the kiss is electric, sending a jolt down your spine as his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his lips are soft yet insistent, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, grounding you even as your knees threaten to buckle.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low and full of heat.

“good,” you manage to breathe, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving you gasping.

“maybe i like the risk,” you whisper, emboldened by the way his hands grip you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“careful,” he warns, his voice dripping with both amusement and desire. “if you keep talking like that, i’ll show you exactly what you’ve started.”

so you try again, because if anything, jeonghan looks a thousand times just as hot when he's all worked up, "hannie,"

"yes, love?"

"you're so stubborn and it's annoying," your voice dips, and jeonghan knows you half mean it, & somehow, it turns him on even more.

the look in his eyes is all the warning you need—and yet, you find yourself leaning into him, daring him to follow through.

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[luvzshy]

Between Shadows

Word Count: ~530 words

Summary: After a mission gone wrong in Zaun, you’re left injured and cornered until Vi and Caitlyn come to your rescue. Tensions rise as Caitlyn confronts you about your reckless choices, while Vi keeps things light, showing that despite the danger, they care deeply for you.

Warnings: Injury, implied violence, arguments, mild language, and high-stress situations.

The night in Zaun was thick with smog and tension. You pressed your back to the damp wall of an alley, catching your breath as your heart hammered in your chest. The job had gone south—bad intel, too many enforcers, and now you were stuck in the lower city with the risk of being caught at every corner.

But they were coming. You’d sent the signal, a small mechanical flare that only Caitlyn would recognize. You could only hope she wasn’t too late.

“Do you ever not get yourself into trouble?”

The voice made you whip your head around, but it was Vi, stepping out of the shadows with her signature gauntlets glinting in the faint light. Her smirk was as sharp as ever, though her eyes scanned you for injuries. “You look like hell.”

“Feel like it too,” you muttered, slumping against the wall. “You alone?”

“Not a chance,” Caitlyn said, emerging from behind Vi with her rifle slung across her back, her expression far less amused. “You’re reckless. Do you realize how dangerous this was?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you argued, though you couldn’t meet her piercing gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

Vi snorted, crossing her arms. “It never is with you.”

Caitlyn shot her a look before stepping closer. She placed a gloved hand on your arm, her touch firm but not unkind. “We’ll talk about this later. For now, we need to move before someone notices us.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar tug of safety they brought, even in the chaos. “Lead the way.”

The three of you moved through Zaun like shadows, Caitlyn keeping an eye out for patrols while Vi stayed close, her movements deliberate and protective. The tension between you and Caitlyn was palpable—she was furious, but you could tell it came from worry more than anger.

It wasn’t until you reached a safe house that she let her emotions surface. As Vi secured the door, Caitlyn turned to you, her arms crossed. “What were you even thinking? Do you have any idea how dangerous this city is right now?”

“I was trying to help,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended. “I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“That’s not how this works,” she snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “We’re a team, remember? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Vi, leaning against the wall, interjected, her tone less sharp but just as firm. “She’s right. You pull a stunt like that again, and we’re gonna have problems, got it?”

You looked between them, guilt settling in your chest. “I’m sorry. I… I just didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours. “You don’t get it, do you? We’d rather be in the middle of the danger with you than safe without you.”

Vi grinned, pulling you into a light, one-armed hug. “Yeah, so stop being stupid. We like having you around.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile. “You two are insufferable.”

“Good,” Vi said with a wink. “Guess that makes us a perfect match.”

[sphvm]

a whole new world — sophia laforteza

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

tags: hate sex, fingering, semi-public sex, sophia’s mean, lil bit of praise, begging

masterlist

MEN AND MINORS DNI

the lights of the school hallways flickered above, students chattering excitedly about the upcoming auditions for aladdin. you had waited weeks for this moment, rehearsing your lines and brushing up on your vocal exercises. this time, you were determined to get the lead role of jasmine, and nothing would stand in your way. well, almost nothing.

sophia was the star of the school’s drama club. everyone knew it. with her outgoing personality and striking voice, she was practically born for the spotlight. last year's musical saw her take on the leading role as rapunzel in tangled, a performance that earned her applause and admiration from both students and teachers. it was basically undeniable that she would get the lead role again, but you believed in yourself and refused to let her reputation intimidate you.

after school, sophia had asked you to meet her in the auditorium. her tone had been sweet, almost rehearsed, as though she were putting on another performance. you couldn’t ignore the insinuation behind her invitation, you knew she wanted to size you up, to remind you of her status before the auditions even began. as the heavy double doors swung open, the dim light of the empty auditorium enveloped you, amplifying the anticipation in your chest.

she was already there, standing center stage with an elegance that was unmistakably her own. "hey! you made it," she said, flashing a bright smile, but there was something calculating in her eyes.

"yeah, i wouldn't miss it," you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm.

but the small talk quickly faded into tension. "so... i heard you’re really going for jasmine this year. brave choice," she said, tilting her head slightly, her smile turning sly.

you could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you. "i think i have a chance. i can sing the part, and i’m ready to take on the challenge."

she chuckled lightly, but it sounded more like a sharp intake of breath. "you know, it’s cute that you think you can steal the spotlight. it’s just—you’ve seen the past performances, right? i mean, come on," sophia said, her voice turning cold, a tinge of annoyance creeping in.

"and? am i supposed to just step aside because you’re the star?" you shot back, feeling brave. you’d practiced long enough, and you weren’t about to back down now.

"you don’t get it. i’m always the lead. that’s how this works," she argued, stepping closer, her confidence radiating like a spotlight beneath the stage lights.

"and that’s exactly why i’m going to fight you for it," you replied, meeting her gaze. the tension swirled around you, a blend of frustration and determination.

she took a step closer, looking down at you, making you feel a little smaller. “fight me for it? that’s a joke.”

strangely exhilarated by the confrontation, you felt yourself become more aggressive, your eyes narrowing as you pushed back. "i’m not scared of stealing it from you just because you’ve a brat that always gets your way."

“acting like you’d ever be better than me, all you are is a little girl with dreams that will never come true, wake up!”

in a rush of anger, you slapped her across the cheek. the sound echoed sharply through the empty auditorium. sophia’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then a fierceness took hold of her features. her eyebrows furrowed and an ugly scowl plastered her face.

without a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward, closing the distance between you. she grabbed you tightly, shoving you against the walls of the stage. she crashed her lips against yours, a shocking mixture of anger and something deeper igniting between you.

you kissed her back instinctively, your heart pounding, all that existed was a mix of rivalry and something undefinable. she gripped your waist harder, her lips moving at a fast pace you couldn’t keep up with. you moaned into her mouth as your hands went up to tangle themselves in her hair. she tasted like strawberries.

she pulled away and when you opened your eyes, she looked even angrier than before. “you just fucking hit me.” your words were stuck in your throat, all you could do was stare wide eyed, your gaze moving from her lips to her eyes.

“god you’re a whore.” a low whimper escaped your throat.

her lips crashing against yours once again. her hands moved to your hair, pulling at the roots as she deepened the kiss. you moaned, your hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer to you. she ground her hips against yours, her fingers dropping to your waist, working to unzip your pants. you gasp as she slipped a hand inside, her fingers sliding up your slit.

"you’re so fucking wet," she whispered in your ear, her fingers moving in slow circles around your clit. you whimpered in her ear, your hips bucking against her hand. "do you like that, baby?" she asked, her voice low. “you like that i’m doing this?”

you nodded, unable to speak. she smirked, her fingers moving faster. "tell me you want it," she demanded, her fingers pressing harder against your clit.

"i-i want it," you breathed, your hips moving faster against her hand.

"beg me for it," she said, her fingers moving even faster.

"please, sophia, please.”

her lips found your neck as she pressed open mouthed kisses along it. “you won’t get the lead baby, so why don’t you show me what other noises that pretty voice can make?”

your hips moved frantically against her hand, as she slowed her ministrations down to a teasing pace.

"please," you begged brokenly, your body trembling, feeling the sweat drop down your back. "sophia..."

she chuckled darkly, her fingers stilled. "please what?" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I want to hear it from that pretty mouth."

"please fuck me," you whimpered, your hands fisting in her hair. "please, just do it. fuck me, use me." she tsked, her fingers starting a slow circle. “i-i won’t audition for the—fuck!” her fingers suddenly entered your core, crying out at the sudden impact, your nails digging crescents into her shoulders as she impaled you on her fingers.

"fuck, you're fucking tight," she cursed, moving with a desperate frenzy. "you like that? want it rough?"

your only response was a muffled cry, your face buried in the crook of her neck. she took your mouth in a searing kiss, all thought fleeing as the sensations overtook you. all that remained was the two of you, your bodies slick with a sheen of sweat.

"god, yes..." you breathed against her lips, your words punctuated by moans of pleasure. "harder. fuck me harder..."

“you don’t make the decisions here.” she spoke, recapturing your lips, but nonetheless she obliged. her fingers slammed inside you with a newfound aggression. the sound of your slick was echoing in the otherwise silent room. it was just the two of you, but the thought that anyone could come in and find her fucking you dumb was exhilarating

there was only the slap of her fingers thrusting into you, the sound of your shared panting, and the taste of sweat on your tongue. you could feel your stomach tightening. and focusing on the way her tongue was sliding against yours wasn’t helping.

"please," you gasped out, your voice hoarse and raw. "please, don't stop..."

her lips left your mouth, her eyes were lidded and it felt like she was staring straight into your soul. “come for me, be as loud as you can. be my good girl, right?” she moved impossibly faster, adding a third finger and her thumb finding your clit. “you keep your eyes on me while you come,” she rubbed faster and faster circles until your body tensed and time stopped. waves and waves of pleasure drowned your body as you slumped against the wall. her fingers were still inside you as you finally came to.

she smiled sickenly sweet at you. “good girl.” she rubbed your cheek with her spare hand and kissed you, breaking apart with a click. “good luck trying to sing now.”

she pulled her hand away, licking the three fingers that were covered in your come, dripping down her wrist. you tried to argue back but found you couldn’t. you lost your voice.

[pottersfia]

I love your work and I’m wondering if you can make a Harry Potter x reader! Where the reader is a Slytherin and she’s all cocky and shit and she’s enemies with Harry. They get in a argument and out of frustration Harry kisses her and then they Have rough sex?

harry x fem!reader

smut

a/n: sorry this took so long! it was a fun write :)

out of all the people you could've been partnered up with for your DADA assignment, it had to be harry. you despised the so called "chosen one" but you wanted a good grade so you had to get through it.

you and harry agreed to meet in the library, but this particular evening you both happened to be busy after your classes and the library closed before you could get there. you decided to meet in your dorm instead. your roommate was gone for the night and you had a desk in there so it would have to do.

"wish me luck, pansy. hopefully i don't end up punching this guy." you said. pansy snickered.

"have fun." she said as you walked towards harry who arrived in the common room.

"hello potter." you said.

"y/l/n." he replied.

"ok let's get this over with." you lead him to your dorm.

as you began to pull out your notes and textbooks harry spoke up,

"just so you know, i already started. i thought i'd do most of it for us." he said. you scoffed. who did he think he was?

"no." you crossed your arms.

"no?" he raised his eyebrows.

"i already have ideas for this assignment so i'll do it. i don't need you doing anything for me."

"that's not really how this is supposed to work." he pushed his glasses up which sent your stomach churning. with annoyance of course.

"well you're trying to do all the work too."

"i said most!"

you furrowed your eyebrows and stared at him. harry always managed to get on your last nerve. this grade was important, yes, but you were in no mood to put up with his attitude.

"can you stop being insufferable for once so we can get this done." you said.

"i don't see how i'm insufferable when you won't listen." he said. the two of you glared at eachother.

"you can leave you know. we don't have to do this today." you stood up and walked towards the door.

"you know that i'm busy all week. unlike you i have other important things to do." he walked towards you.

"then stop acting like you're better than me!" you practically yelled in his face and moved your hands up to try and push him away from you but he grabbed them before you could touch him. "let go." you said but his grip was strong.

"no." he replied, holding your arms against the closed door. you two stared each other down until you noticed him look down at your lips. you raised your eyebrow in a questioning way about to say something until he leaned in and kissed you. you froze for a second confused by his actions but then you kissed back just as he broke away. he let go of you.

"woah, i'm sorry y/n, i uh-"

"shut up." you kissed him again and this time it was longer. your lips synced together perfectly and harry let his hands roam along the sides of your torso. you pushed him to walk back towards your bed and climbed on top as he laid down. you parted your lips to pull your shirt off and he stared hungrily at your body.

"like what you see, potter?" you smirked at him.

"come here." he pulled you against himself and flipped you over so he was on top. he then took off his own shirt and moved down to pull your bottoms off. he rubbed your thighs and slowly moved his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most.

"stop teasing." you whined out. he laughed at you making you whine again.

"you know what? i've always wanted to shut you up. i think i'll use that loud mouth of yours instead." he pulled his underwear off revealing his hard erection and moved up to straddle your chest.

"stick your tongue out." he said. you looked up at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

"you're not making me suck you off like this." he grabbed your face roughly and replied, "i said stick your tongue out. i'll use you how i want." you rolled your eyes and did so, ignoring the wetness pooling in your own underwear.

he slapped his tip on your tongue before pushing himself inside your mouth. he moaned as your lips wrapped around him and he buck his hips in and out of your wet mouth.

"fuck. you feel so good like this." he groaned. you gripped onto his thigh with one hand and began rubbing yourself under your underwear with the other. harry only noticed when he felt the vibrations of you moaning around him and saw your arm moving.

“i knew you were a dirty slut. rubbing yourself while is use your throat.” his word made you moan even more as you squeezed your thighs together to feel more pressure. “you’re way prettier like this, you know.” he let out small whines and groans from the sensation of your lips and wet tongue on his cock.

you loved having him use you and his noises only brought you closer and closer to the edge. you shut your eyes as you took in the feeling but suddenly your mouth was empty. you looked up and watched as harry climbed off of you, grabbed your hips, and turned you over.

“stick that ass out.” he said. you arched your back and showed off the wet spot on your underwear, slightly spreading your legs.

“you better fuck me good, potter.” you said, rubbing yourself over your underwear. harry felt like he was dreaming. the sight in front of him made him throbbing as he pumped himself, still wet from your mouth.

“fuck.” he pulled your underwear to the side to see your dripping pussy and replaced your rubbing hand with his. “i will, trust me.” and with that he pushed himself inside you making you gasp from being stretched. he instantly started pounding into you, chased how good it felt to finally have you.

“so tight.” he groaned. his hands were gripping you and you were moaning louder than you ever have before. you reached back to rub yourself again making harry smirk.

“slap me please, harry.” you moaned out. he slapped your ass making you groan from the sting.

“making so many pretty noises for me.” he slapped again. “i want you to cum on my cock, y/n. i know you can do it.” his words only got you more wet and you grew tighter around him as you reached your orgasm.

“harry, i’m so close.” you said. he fucked into you harder, feeling himself get closer too.

“i’m gonna cum too, fuck.” he relished in the moment, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer with every stroke. finally, you felt your release as your legs shook, letting out loud whines.

harry came soon after, pulling out and pumping his cum on your ass and back.

“that is crazy hot.” he said staring at the image in front of him. you relaxed your legs to lay on your stomach trying to catch your breath.

harry quickly grabbed a towel to clean you off. he sat next to you and wiped your body.

“that wasn’t too bad, potter.” you said turning towards him with a smile.

“glad i could make you feel good.” he smiled back. you sat up as soon as you were clean.

“i could do a better job fucking you if i were on top, though.” you said. harry’s eyebrows raised and suddenly he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

[londondungeon2]

IN BLOOM. jade leech

He had not expected to see you at all during the duration of his birthday party. This, he was fine with. You are recovering after all and should remain in bed. Though, Jade supposes his act is not subtle by the way his twin keeps eyeing like watching a dog off a leash, making sure he won't run off.

tags: mild hurt/comfort, birthday bloom event, drinking & talking, established relationship, pre-canon to Got You.

word count: 2060

He is not being subtle, is he?

Too many physical clues have given his twin insight that he is not doing mentally well. He can pass off the fidgeting with the wooden shaft of his broom to nerves over flying. His dual-colored eyes flickering over to the lounge’s clock might just be him wanting to be out of the spotlight. All those little quirks can be shrouded by a false truth, but Floyd won’t believe a single one.

Jade preserves despite this inner schism between his twin and himself. The dialogue that Shrimpy’s a big girl and she doesn’t need ya coddlin’ her, Seven, you’re latchin’ on like some parasite, get a grip. Which would be fiercely combated by the dialogue that I’m her boyfriend which should put an end to discussion but probably wouldn’t.

So, neither of them discuss it because why fight on our birthday?

He gets through the interview and the broom-flying without a hitch. Even when he teethers himself a bit closer to the safety of the ground, he manages to do it all efficiently and effectively. Though all the stomach-knotting worry, it is an impossible task to stop the smile that cracks off his pursed lips when his twin tries to snatch his Birthday Bloom hat.

For the majority of this evening’s party, Jade has been biting his tongue to hold back excuses to leave. If he took a bathroom break, it would give him ample time to – at the very least – poke his head in his dorm room. Then, he thinks about how much that is a dog owner excusing themselves early from the party to let the mutt out; then, he thinks about those stout, pearly gray parasites from home; then, he thinks himself out of his idea.

He is fiddling – that is one of his more apparently anxious habits, always grasping at the nearest thing to twist or rub between his fingertips – with the white roses sitting elegantly in his broom’s bouquet when he sees what he was not expecting to see. Birthday gifts and surprises truly don’t stop coming until midnight? Because at the entrance, there you stand.

Kalim’s proclivity towards partying has never benefited or inconvenienced Jade much before. It might have caused a few stand-alone memories to pop, but nothing other than that. Right now however, there is a slight relief coursing through him due to Kalim leaving the party early to attend another.

Your attention will not be spread so thin. Because after you are done scanning the glittering decorations, your tired eyes fall upon him first with the crushing weight of acknowledgment and scrutiny.

You smile. It is tiny and disappears right when it flickered alive. Expression quietly somber, the uncharacteristic of it is quite jarring. None of the guests are even noticing you enter beyond himself and Floyd – who for the first time all night, finally turns away and stops watching him like he is a dog off a leash, about to sprint at the next opportunity.

When you land, you sit pressed leg to leg against one another. Despite how thick the robes are, indigo cotton like a shield, he feels the weight of you leaning against him like a fallen building most. Pressure under the Coral Sea is suffocating; the crude mimic of the sensation done by you is comforting.

“I’m not crashing the party, am I,” you ask into the pattern of golden swirling keys and crows on your boyfriend’s cloak. “Thought you guys would be done by now.”

“So did I. Truthfully, there is not much left to be done.” Which is why it has been frustrating that Floyd was not letting him escape.

“Whaaa,” you whisper softly, “no, you gotta party till you drop. There’s no other way to celebrate a birthday.”

“I see,” Jade tuts. He looks down at the crown of your hair resting by the corner where his magestone sits on his birthday uniform. “You don’t particularly look ready to get up and dance with me. How unfortunate.”

Like a feline, you rub your cheek deep into the dreamlike scene embodied on his outfit. The entire wardrobe line does look like these birthday boys were plucked from dark night skies. It would not be surreal to imagine you collapsing into him and falling asleep, like a meteor fizzling out on earth.

Instead, you murmur, “I just woke up from a nap. Give me a second.” Your hand reaches out and grabs Jade’s milkshake glass that is full of Boozy Blue. He watches through what isn’t blocked by your hair as you take the miniature umbrella he left on the edge and begin to twirl it in your fingertips. “You won’t be able to keep up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No. Just a promise.” A cough splits apart the end of your sentence.

Deliberate, Jade points his focal attention towards the lounge. Only a few stragglers are left in the almost concluded birthday celebration. Even Azul has already retired so really this should close up soon. Gazing, Jade finds that Ortho Shroud is among the stragglers and he happens to be impolitely staring at the both of you.

A twitch passes over Jade’s upper lip. He surmised that he knows exactly what those traffic-yellow eyes are taking in, calculating the diameter and shape of the bruises left on your neck.

He goes to reach down, pet along the side of your face, and cover your neck from any peering audience when something hits his fingers. Your heartbeat … it’s pounding. Like a drum. So powerfully loud that it almost seems to disrupt the air around you. Is it not uncomfortable to sit upright like that when your heart is seizing up in premature cardiac arrest? He should rest you down further on the couch so you may relax until your heart stops trying to break out your ribcage.

Had you just woken up from a nightmare? Jade’s hand lands on your shoulder, sailing past the spot he was seeking to conceal. If he touches there, there is a rising probability that you might seize up.

He flexes his grip on your bicep and you lean deeper into his uniform, both of you trying to fuse into each other’s warm touch. Running his tongue over needle-pointed teeth, Jade asks after a quiet minute of cuddling, “May I ask that you fulfill a promise to me on my birthday?”

“Of course.” You stir to look up at him with witchcraft eyes. A jovial smile pulls your lips, ready to please, as you twist the little umbrella, guaranteeing, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

“Never. Never go into Ramshackle without me.”

Your lips fall flat. That thunderous heartbeat — that Jade can almost graze as it lies thin and delicate across every plain of your skin — skips a beat. “Jade —.”

“Please,” he tries to keep despair out of his voice but knows by how you flinch that it was inadequate. “Please, never go into Ramshackle again.” It feels selfish to ask a person with your disposition to be shackled or forbidden from a certain place, but it would ease his own pounding heart to never find you in such a state again.

After a moment of silence, you pull away from Jade and place down the umbrella. Your furrow brow makes him think you are going to leave, walk straight out of the party. Instead, you reach into your pajama pants pocket. “I promise, I won’t ever go into Ramshackle again. But, I had to go in there yesterday because I had to retrieve this.”

Between the gate of your index and middle finger, slightly obscured by your howlite ring, you hold up something slim and shiny. One could almost mistake it for a sturgeon scale and when Jade was younger than eighteen, he probably would have made that mistake. Now older, freshly turned twenty today, he knows that you are holding your lucky guitar pick in your hand — one of the three original possessions you have from your alien world.

“Why didn’t you —?”

“I didn’t think it would be right to ask you for your help. It’s my pick. It’s my problem. And I didn’t want —.”

“Nonsense.” Jade grasps the wrist holding your treasure and says firmly, “It would not have been a strife to go with you, I promise.”

You go huff with a closed lip smile. So it goes. Your head falls delicately and looping hair covers up the skin-deep necklace of plum and black that you wear. An insidious accessory.

The first thing you eat after waking up from your nap is a plum that has gone bad. Everyone has left the birthday longue, even Floyd who had ruffled your hair and told you that ya still owed him a birthday gift. You had smiled; now you are frowning while the feeling of wet, rotten curdles lying in your mouth upsets your taste buds.

You find a napkin and spit into it. The pattern of it matches the birthday outfits with their golden crows and golden keys and golden swirls. In the ribcage of your napkin sits a squishy heart of discolored yellow, half-chewed plum. The color reminds you of those science videos wheeled out of a rickety table, showing off pale yellow cholesterol in the veins and pale yellow puss seeping out infected eyes. A snail-trail of old salvia falls from the heart and glides over your palm.

Comatose, you stare at the bruised fruit cradled in the night-sky napkin before Jade pulls you out of your melancholy by setting down the tea you asked for.

Unsure why you were staring so vividly and tracing each rutting mound of half-chewed fruit, you fold the napkin over your rejected bite and inform your boyfriend, “The fruits gone bad. Did Azul forget to get rid of old stock?” You doubt he did but you are simply asking to fill up conversation space.

His eyes flicker curiously over to what you hold out to him: inners that are rotting in a slimy brownish, pale yellow. “Perhaps he did.”

Before you can get up to do it, Jade takes the plum from your hand and disposes of it in the nearby trash. He leaves you with your napkin; perhaps because he did not see you spit up instead of swallow your bite. You hold it in your hand, over the top of your knee, as wetness seeps through the thin cover of night.

“This should wash the taste out of your mouth,” Jade says, sitting down and pushing the tea he prepared towards you. He has already made sure it has cooled to the perfect temperature.

Meticulous, you think as you lift up the fragile chinaware. It washes through the bruises that have been left in the inner-workings of your throat like a heated river. “Thank you, baby.”

“It is no trouble.”

You squeeze the fruit-heart in your hand, just once for good luck. Truthfully, you don’t know if you will be able to sing again. Too terrified to try, you have been avoiding even humming to fill up silence, worried the tone might be off. Sacrificing your health had seemed natural when you went back into Ramshackle to gather the last belonging that you left behind.

Bowing your head, you sigh. The atmosphere, now that everyone is gone, is so serious. You loathe serious atmospheres and always hope the future has no more in store for you. Always, your hopes are dashed.

So, you try to switch the conversation, “Your flowers are pretty.” You’re curious if he picked them himself or something like the ‘Magical Pendulum’ or another inane sorting device chose them.

Jade glances at them just as you say. “You’re in bloom. Twenty is the cusp of adulthood.”

He smiles handsomely. “Such a notion makes it sound like my previous years had little significance.”

“Well, not like that. But you got internships coming up. Everything has to … turn serious, you know.”

“You must be loathing your next birthday.”

“Hey! I’m staying nineteen forever. I don’t know about you but I’m not ever coming out of my teens.” A chuckling rumble spread across your arm as Jade laughs at your quick nudge. His witch’s hat tilts with his mirth.

Both of you think — unbeknownst to the other half — things should stay like this. Immortal flowers that will never rot. Always in bloom.

[rubyboobidoo]

a little something about sofia taking maroni!reader as payback for alberto because i will keep this fandom alive so help me god!!

sofia has had you captive in her house for only a matter of hours but as the the minutes tick away, it feels closer to weeks. it’s only natural that you get on each other’s nerves, it’s in your blood.

the both of you are stubborn, holding onto your family’s pride and power, but something deeper is simmering between you.

tired of you spitting insults, sofia steps towards you, her voice dropping dangerously low. she roughly grabs your jaw “what… am i going to do with you, the maroni’s little princess.” you scoff, refusing to even look her in the eye.

sofia tightens her grip on your jaw, her dark eyes boring into yours. "don't you dare give me sass, you ungrateful bitch," she seethes, her eyes boring into yours. suddenly, her face drops. “you’re lucky i’m patient enough to wait for your scum family to retrieve you,” her voice low and almost seductive, “i could have put you six feet under by now.”

everything move she makes leaves you more confused. the way she looks at you, it’s cold and cruel but there’s warmth in her eyes. “looks like this little plan of yours didn’t work, sofia,” you smirk, teasing her.

“fucking hell,” she releases her grip on your jaw, beginning to pace back and forth “i underestimated how irritating you’d be.” stopping in front of you her face changes - an expression a mix of confusion and something else - something almost vulnerable.

"i don't know what i'm supposed to do with you," she admits, more to herself than to you. "keeping you here, isn’t working out the way I thought it would." she snaps, her hand coming up to grab a fist full of your hair and you flinch - anticipating another round of slaps to your cheek, or perhaps she’d strangle you like the news said she did to those other women.

instead, she does something completely unexpected.

sofia's lips crash against yours, the suddenness of the kiss catching you off guard. you sit frozen but then, instinctively, you find yourself responding to her kiss, your lips moving against hers. her grip on your hair tightens and she brings her free hand up to hold your chin.

when she pulls away, it leaves an unpredicted spark of emptiness in your stomach. you struggle to catch your breath, small gasps of air pushing past your now swollen lips.

“what was that about my plan not working out?" she coos with wicked smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “think you'll find that i’ve got you right where i want you, princess."

[creative-frequency]

Lucanis Dellamorte x Reader: Late Nights & Delayed Confessions, pt.5

Summary: A late morning with Lucanis. Part 5 of 5. Word count: 1419 Notes: Romance, mature content, you’re an Antivan Crow, no spoilers for Veilguard → Part 4 → My writing masterlist

The increasing noise of ships being loaded, the constant clamore of villagers and sailors, and the market vendors shouting their slogans on the main street – It was a far reach from the usual relaxed mornings in Treviso, but it had something your home city didn’t.

A featherlight touch on your shoulder and soft lips in the crook of your neck. You smiled, but didn’t open your eyes.

“Mi amore… It is time to wake up,” Lucanis murmured right next to your ear.

Pleasant shivers rolled down your skin. Feeling thoroughly relaxed, you took stock of all your limbs and body parts; your back was pressed against his chest and you could feel him pressing against the back of your thigh. You pushed back, closer to him and earned a pleasantly surprised grunt.

You had to remind yourself that the previous night’s clandestine events had not been a dream.

Lucanis’ hand snaked down over your stomach and stopped just under the waistband of your pants. His breaths were laboured, anticipating.

“Tonight, I want to take my time with you,” he promised in a low tone against the skin of your neck.

“I’m not sure if I can wait for that long.” You laughed breathily, both emboldened and embarrassed by this newfound honesty between you.

You felt him twitch against your backside and press a little harder, closer. He wanted you as much as you wanted him, and the wait was a delicious torture.

“Tonight…” He pulled your shirt’s neckline down to expose a shoulder. “I will do everything…” He pressed down a kiss like a promise. “To make it worth the wait.”

“Mm. I’ll have high expectations now,” you replied in a soft murmur.

“I always deliver,” he hummed.

You turned enough to reach Lucanis’ lips. His hand slipped downward, caressing your inner thigh up and and down, torturously slow and tender.

He tried to pull back after a kiss or three, but your body turned after him and you swung your leg over his hip. Lucanis’ hands found your waist and he pulled you on top of him. You felt his hardness against your core and your mind reeled. If you hadn’t been wearing pants… Sweet Andraste.

“I’ll have you on me just like this tonight, but with less clothes,” Lucanis murmured, barely apart from your lips.

“Like this?” you asked and ground your hips against him, lightly, but he still gasped. An electrifying shockwave of pleasure rippled through your body.

Lucanis cupped your ass and pulled you into another grinding motion. It was your turn to moan into his mouth in the middle of a kiss.

“Either you stop now or I can’t be held responsible for the consequences,” you groaned.

As if you wanted him to stop. The aftershocks of pleasure still rippled heat into your core and with every passing moment it became more difficult to remember that you were supposed to get up early and leave for Treviso. This was mixing business and pleasure in the most delinquent of ways, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Hm. You started it,” Lucanis murmured and massaged your back and rear. His motions were a little harsher, a little more demanding, and you were so ready to rise to the challenge.

“It’s hard to stop with you,” you crooned and started to trail kisses on his cheek.

You felt Lucanis twitch again, eagerly. Your hips jerked against him in response. The friction loosened a lewd, but fortunately a subdued moan from you. Your breaths became heavy. He pulled you against him again and kissed you breathless.

“Lu-Lucanis…”

You needed him. And all signs pointed to the conclusion that he needed you, too.

The dam of your iron will and determination was obliterated against his heated lips.

You jerked up, about to toss the shirt over your head. Somehow Lucanis was thinking just about doing the very same thing, but was faster and he rose right after you, already taking off his own shirt and helping you get rid of yours. Still you managed to find each other’s lips in the middle of the panting breaths and chucking pieces of clothing aside.

Until a forceful knock on the door almost made you jump from your skin.

“Did you leave without me or are you still in bed?!” Illario shouted from the corridor.

Your eyes met Lucanis’ in equal horror. This was a serious case of being carried away and while you absolutely loved that you had, you both were breathing heavily, your hairs were a mess, and your looks were just completely hot and bothered. Illario would take one glance at you both and instantly know what clandestine events had occurred.

“Mierda,” Lucanis cursed under his breath.

Before you could agree, he pulled you from the chin into a quick, but passionate kiss. You hopped off him and off the bed, and started throwing your clothes on.

“Just a moment!” you shouted back at Illario. He knocked again, impatient.

You could never understand how, but Lucanis was faster than you in putting his whole assassin garb together and looking wholly aloof. As if he had been sleeping on the floor. Or in the closet.

“I look like a mess!” you hissed at him and desperately tried to tame your unruly clothes and hair.

Lucanis showed you a crooked smile through the mirror. The expression told you that while he didn’t agree, you would indeed look like a fine mess tonight after he was done with you.

You stuck your tongue out at him in a very professional, assassin-like manner.

Lucanis did the best damage control he could and didn’t let Illario into the room. Maker knew it probably smelled like… something that would give you away. He ushered his cousin downstairs, offering a few choice words about giving you some privacy to dress properly. If Illario bought the explanation, you would be very disappointed in him. This was the kind of thing he did. Not you and Lucanis, of all people. He was always serious and focused on business. He was the heir apparent to become the next First Talon of the Crows. Lucanis Dellamorte didn’t indulge in… this.

Your cheeks still felt hot as you made your way outside to find the Dellamortes already waiting with horses.

Damage control mode was still very much in effect since Lucanis kept Illario busy talking so his attention wouldn’t land on you nor would he have time to inspect your reddened cheeks and hurried exterior in more detail. You had overslept and that was all there was to it.

The weather was nice for a horse ride and you kept casual conversation flowing as you drew closer to Treviso. The winding road was as busy as ever, and the company was good. You didn’t dare to stare at Lucanis for too long lest your expression turned dreamy and Illario would notice something was off about you two. The secret was like a balmy warmth in your heart that threatened to boil over every time your gazes met. You had to pinch yourself to believe that just a few hours earlier you had almost made love with Lucanis Dellamorte.

“Any plans after this contract is taken care of?” Illario asked you.

“I will have to visit the Valisti’s vineyard soon to make a public appearance,” you sighed. The trip would be uneventful besides turning down the constant unwanted advances from married men. Disgusting.

“How dreadful to get to sample their wines,” Illario marked with a laugh.

“Maybe you should join me for the trip,” you said and winked at him.

He laughed more. “Caterina would never allow it.”

“That makes it an even better idea,” you noted.

“If you need someone to guard your virtue–” You shot him a dangerous look. “–an excursion would do good for Lucanis here.”

The best way to get Illario Dellamorte in on a plan, was to trick him into thinking it was his idea all along.

“You don’t say,” you murmured and offered Lucanis a meaningful smile.

A weekend at the vineyard in the sunshine, sipping wine, and no one would dare bother you since you had an avéc, would be perfect.

“I’m not sure–” Lucanis started, but Illario cut him off.

“Nonsense. He would be delighted to join you, Fiore.”

Lucanis showed you back a hint of a smile.

You had something in common, since you both hated this waiting game, but because opposites attract, Lucanis Dellamorte was annoyingly good at it.

[vodika-vibes]

can you do kix x reader where kix sees reader talking with keeli and gets jealous but reader is actually asking keeli about his twin kix?

Jaloux

Summary: Jealousy is not the best look for a man of his temperament, but when he catches the woman he’s been crushing on for months flirting with Keeli, there’s no stopping the burn of jealousy.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair, reader is described as getting a perm

A/N: This was fun to write! My sun lamp is working and I can focus a little better.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“I’m so glad to be back on Coruscant!” 

Kix tosses a grin towards the woman lounged, dramatically, on one of the beds in his medbay, “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the swamp?”

She sits up and points at him, “I am far too young to enter my swamp witch phase.” She drops her hand, and pulls her hair out of the strict knot she normally keeps it in while she’s working, “Besides, that place was awful. I’ve never seen so many men get so sick from pollen before. I thought you all were immune to allergies.”

“So did I,” Kix replies with a laugh, “Guess the long necks didn’t cover everything.”

“Guess not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, and Kix can’t help but watch the way her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She might be the most stunning woman he’s ever met.

She should wear her hair down more often…but also, he’s glad she doesn’t. He’d never accomplish anything if she did.

“Anyway,” Kix shakes himself from his daydream (which involves her in his bunk, her hair spread like a halo around her head-) “What are your plans back on Coruscant? Bar hopping? Clubbing?”

She laughs, and Kix falls a little harder for her, “Do you really take me for the bar hopping type?”

He laughs softly, “No, not really. Especially since you shy away from Hardcases’...uh…chemical genius.”

“I’m fairly sure that what he brewed should be classified as a chemical weapon, rather than a drink. I can’t believe you drank it.” She folds her arms, “You deserved that hangover.”

“Yeah, but you’re a paragon of kindness and mercy and nursed us all back to health.” 

“You’re lucky that Rex begged me to help.”

“Rex was just as hungover as we were.” Kix points out.

“Ugh. I work with a bunch of children.”

Kix laughs again, “We’re not so bad.”

The look she shoots him is slightly exasperated, though it quickly morphs to a grin, “I suppose you could be worse.” She finally hops off the bed, and stretches her arms in front of her, “Are you all packed?”

“Are you? I keep most of my stuff here.”

She makes a face, “Oh yeah.” She pauses, “But I do have everything packed.” 

The familiar feeling of the Resolute settling in drydock rattles across the ship, and Kix smothers a quiet sigh. He’s going to miss seeing her everyday. Sure, he’ll still see her at the base, but it’s not the same. 

He likes eating breakfast with her. She isn’t able to function without a cup of caf, it’s hilarious. He also likes needling her about her breakfast habits.

As the ship comes to a stop, and the announcement comes over the intercom announcing that all of the civilian employees can disembark, she grins at him and grabs her bag from the floor, “I’ll see you in a few days?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kix wants to say more to her. He wants to confess, or to ask her out on a date, but the words seem to stick in his throat. So, instead, he offers her a small smile and an absent wave, as she leaves the medbay.

It’s only a few days. 

Maybe he’ll work up the nerve to ask her out the next time he sees her.

The next time Kix sees her, it’s a whole week later. 

He almost doesn’t recognize her when he sees her across the massive room. Her long hair has been cropped to her shoulders, and dyed a deep blue that is the same shade as the blue on his armor. And, as he moves closer, he sees that she has a new tattoo on her left shoulder. 

It looks like an array of flowers wrapped around the medic symbol.

It suits her.

He weaves through the throng of his brothers, there are several battalions here, so he’s able to get to her, though he slows when he sees her talking to Keeli.

He slows his walk and he just watches them interact.

She looks…delighted. Laughter written clearly on her face, leaning in so she’s able to hear him better, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm when he says something.

And Kix burns.

He’s never been the jealous type, at least he never has been in the past.

But watching this, Kix realizes that maybe he just never had reason to be properly jealous before.

He takes a deep breath and swallows his jealousy, before he continues walking over to the pair. 

“There you are,” Keeli folds his arms, “You’re late, vod’ika.”

“Come off it, we were decanted at the same time.” Kix counters, “And I wasn’t late, anyway. I was just on the other side of the room.”

“Hey Kix!” She grins at him, “Did you really dare one of your batchmates to jump into the ocean when you were a cadet?”

Kix blinks at her, and then turns an accusing glare on his twin, “Really?”

“Really.” Keeli agrees with a grin, “Anyway, my General is calling. See you later vod, Doc.”

Keeli saunters off, with Kix glaring at his back, and then he turns to look at her, “You shouldn’t believe anything he said about me as a cadet, he’s a horrible liar.”

She laughs, “I’d believe that if you weren’t blushing, Kix.” She brushes a blue curl off her cheek, and favors him with a grin, “It’s alright, everyone does dumb things as kids. It’s a side effect of being a kid, you know?”

Kix flashes a tiny smile, “Yeah? What did you do?”

She shrugs, “I tried to sell my brother for a handful of credits. And then mom found out and I was grounded for three years.”

That makes him laugh, “Well, I suppose I’m less embarrassed now.” He reaches out and tugs on one of her curls, “This is new.”

“Yeah, I wanted something new, so I got a perm and a dye.”

“And a new tattoo.”

“Yeah,” she pauses, “What do you think?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she sounded a little self-conscious.

“Well, you look like you belong with the 501st now,” He teases, though then his smile softens, “I think you look great. But I always think you look great.” A blush rises on her cheeks, so Kix continues, “You make the rest of us look bad.”

“You’re exaggerating. You and your brothers are very handsome,”

It’s the first time Kix has ever heard her make a comment about his appearance, she normally sidesteps the question when someone asks, so he inches a little closer, “You think I’m handsome?” He asks with a grin.

“Are you going to make this a thing?”

“Am I more handsome than Keeli?”

She stares at him and then she sighs, “I know you better than I know Keeli, so yeah. Stop being jealous, it’s silly.”

“...I’m not jealous.”

“You are. It’s kind of cute, and totally ridiculous.” She stretches her arms over her head, and then, without looking at him, continues, “After all, everyone knows you’re my favorite.”

Unlike the way that he burned earlier, at the thought of Keeli flirting with her, now he just feels pleasantly warm. “That right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then bumps her gently, “You know, there’s a botanical garden not far from here, it’s home to the most poisonous flowers in the galaxy. You wanna go?”

“Kix, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I am. If you want.”

A bright grin crosses her face, “It’s about time,” She finally turns to look at him, “Yes, please. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

The pair fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Kix glances at her, “You know, you could have asked me on a date.”

“Jesse said that you would prefer a more…traditional relationship.” She shrugs, “I just trusted his word.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Kix grumbles and then her words fully register, “Wait, relationship?”

“Yeah, Kix. Relationship.”

“Huh.” He stares at the side of her head, “I can work with that.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious