#tablemate-table | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loojii · 2 days ago

Text

♥️ Prim and Proper ♥️

I've been asked before about more info about these silly characters of mine and even though I hoped to draw most of it I thought it would be nice to write it down too. I am not English or the best writer so I did ask chat GPT to format it better for me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Riddle x King of Hearts oc Simply how they met and to communicate Prim's personality a bit better! Like the King of Hearts, often forgotten but happy :) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Story under the line ~

Riddle’s POV

The Night Raven College library was Riddle Rosehearts’ haven—a place where rules were respected, order was preserved, and silence reigned supreme. At least, it was supposed to.

The soft symphony of pages turning and quills scratching was disrupted by bursts of giggling and whispers. Riddle’s brows furrowed, his concentration shattered.

The offenders were four girls from Lady Mystic College, currently permitted to use the library while their own was under renovation. They sat at a table in the far corner, their uniforms pristine and polished, yet their behavior anything but.

Three of them leaned in close, whispering and snickering, their laughter bubbling up despite the clear disapproval of nearby students. The fourth girl, however, sat quietly at the edge of the group.

Riddle hadn’t noticed her at first, his irritation focused on the noise. But as he rose from his seat and made his way toward them, she caught his eye.

She was smaller than her friends, with blonde curls tied into two neat pigtails. Her dark blue eyes flitted nervously between her tablemates and the books in front of her. Braces gleamed faintly while her upperlip rested on them. Unlike her companions, she seemed more like an observer than a participant.

“Excuse me,” Riddle said sharply as he reached their table.

The three louder girls turned to him, blinking in mock surprise. “Oh, hi!” one of them said, her smile overly sweet.

“This is a library,” Riddle stated, his tone clipped. “Your noise is disrupting others. Please keep your voices down.”

The girls exchanged glances and giggled again. “Sorry about that,” another said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.

The fourth girl looked up at him, her cheeks flushing pink. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her book. “We will be quiet, promise!”

Riddle’s frown softened slightly. She seemed genuinely apologetic, unlike her companions. But rules were rules, and they all bore responsibility for their collective behavior.

“Just keep it down,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, Riddle found himself standing in front of a particularly tall bookshelf, searching for a volume on advanced spell theory. The book he needed was on the highest shelf, just out of reach.

He huffed, rising onto his toes, but it was no use. He debated summoning a step stool when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Um... Excuse me,” the soft, slightly lisped voice said.

Riddle turned to see the blonde girl from earlier standing a few feet away. She was craning her neck, gazing up at a book several shelves above her head.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said quickly, flushing again. “It’s just... I can’t reach it.”

Riddle glanced between her and the book. “Neither can I,” he admitted dryly, stepping closer.

Her lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Oh, yeah-” she said, hugging her arms.

Riddle sighed, lifting his hand. With a precise flick of his fingers, the book floated down from the shelf, landing neatly in his grasp.

The girl’s eyes widened, a spark of wonder lighting them. “Wow! That’s so cool,” she said, her tone full of genuine awe.

“It’s basic magic,” Riddle replied, though he couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose at her reaction. He handed her the book.

“Thank you,” she said, her braces glinting as she smiled. “I’m Prim, by the way. I, um, wanted to apologize again that we were so noisy.”

Riddle studied her for a moment. There was a cheerfulness about her, a childlike wonder that seemed at odds with her companions. “Riddle.” introducing himself. “And it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Prim hesitated, her expression flickering with something uncertain. “They’re not always like that,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “I think they just... like having fun.”

“Just make sure to not disturb others when you’re in a public library. We prefer this place to be quiet.” Riddle said, not to scold her but he feared it may have sounded like that.

“No, you’re absolutely right! It’s basic rules.” She looked down at the book Riddle just got for her. “Thank you again, Riddle!”

Riddle responded with a simple nod and she hugged the book to her chest and turned back toward her table. Riddle watched her go, noting the way her steps seemed lighter, more confident.

For the rest of the afternoon, the library was quiet. But Riddle found himself distracted, his thoughts lingering on the small girl with the blonde pigtails and wondering if she would ever realize she deserved better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Riddle was once again settled in his usual spot in the library. The silence was pristine this time, and he relished the peaceful atmosphere. He had nearly immersed himself in his studies when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Prim.

The girl with blonde pigtails walked hesitantly into the library, clutching her books and bag. She scanned the room for a moment before her eyes landed on him. A bright smile lit her face, and she made her way over.

“Hi,” she greeted softly, her voice still carrying that slight lisp.

Riddle nodded in acknowledgment. “Good afternoon, Prim.”

To his surprise, she pulled out a chair and sat next to him, setting her books down. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s nice and quiet here.”

“As long as you keep it that way,” Riddle replied, his tone neutral.

Prim giggled and nodded. “Promise. I’ll be quiet.”

She opened her notebook and began working on what looked like several assignments. Riddle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her handwriting flowed neatly across the pages. Occasionally, she would hum softly to herself, though it wasn’t disruptive—it was oddly soothing.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “You’re alone today.”

Prim looked up from her work, her curls bouncing slightly as she tilted her head. “Oh, yeah. My friends are out getting lunch.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “They left you behind?”

Prim waved a hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “It’s fine. I had too much homework to do anyway. Besides, they’ll bring me something back.”

Her tone was so casual, so certain, that Riddle didn’t press further. But he couldn’t help the small pang of doubt that settled in his chest.

“They do seem to leave you out quite often,” he remarked, his voice carefully measured.

Prim paused, her pencil hovering over her notebook. Then she laughed lightly. “They don’t mean to. They’re just... busy. But they’re good friends, really.”

Riddle frowned but didn’t say anything. Her unwavering cheerfulness was admirable, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was excusing more than she should.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the soft scratch of pens and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. After a while, Prim closed one notebook and opened another, switching seamlessly between assignments. Riddle noticed she wasn’t just working on a single piece of homework—she seemed to be copying her answers onto three other sheets.

He glanced at her stack of papers. Each page was identical, and she was writing the same answers in the same neat handwriting on all of them. His brow furrowed.

“Prim,” he said quietly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why are you doing the same homework four times?”

Prim froze for a moment, her pen poised mid-sentence. Then she looked at him, her expression sheepish but still cheerful. “Oh, um... My friends forgot to do theirs, so I’m helping out. They’re really busy, you know, with... things.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “You’re doing their homework? All of it?”

Prim shrugged, her smile not faltering. “It’s no big deal. I’m good at this stuff, and they always help me when I need it.”

Riddle didn’t believe that for a second. He leaned back slightly, studying her. She seemed so genuinely kind, so eager to help, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that her so-called friends were clearly taking advantage of her.

Prim seemed to sense his concern because she added, “I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to feel useful.”

Riddle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Prim stood up, gathering her things into a neat pile. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” she said with a smile. “Could you watch my stuff?”

He nodded, though his gaze lingered on her as she walked away.

Left alone, Riddle’s eyes drifted back to her work. The identical pages spread out in front of him confirmed what he already suspected—Prim was kind, but her kindness was being taken advantage of.

As he leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to return, Riddle couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her. She was cheerful and kind in her own way, but it was clear that she deserved better than what her so-called friends were giving her.

When Prim returned, still smiling as brightly as ever, Riddle resolved to keep an eye on her. Someone had to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days went by and Riddle found himself walking through the courtyard, a book tucked under his arm. It was his usual route to the library, but the sound of laughter and chatter drew his attention.

Underneath one of the large oak trees sat the same group of girls from Lady Mystic College. Their voices carried easily on the breeze as they chatted with a group of Savanaclaw students who seemed far too pleased with themselves.

Riddle’s gaze immediately went to Prim. She was sitting on the edge of the group, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she nodded enthusiastically in response to the conversation. Despite her obvious effort to engage, none of the boys so much as glanced her way. Their attention was fixed on her three companions, who were leaning forward and giggling at every joke.

Eventually, the three girls stood, brushing themselves off and flashing bright smiles at the Savanaclaw students. “We’ll see you later,” one of them said, linking arms with another.

Prim started to stand, too, but one of the girls waved her back down with a quick, “Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?”

Prim blinked, then nodded quickly. “Sure! No problem!”

The group walked away, leaving her alone under the tree. She didn’t seem bothered, though. She pulled out a small lunch box and began unpacking it, her expression as cheerful as ever.

Riddle hesitated, his steps slowing. It wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t the type to meddle. Yet something about the scene nagged at him.

Prim’s so-called friends hadn’t even offered to include her. They left her behind without a second thought. And though she waved them off as if it were perfectly natural, Riddle couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right.

Before he could stop himself, he changed course and approached her.

Prim looked up as his shadow fell over her. “Oh! Hi, Riddle!” she said brightly, her dark blue eyes lighting up.

“Good afternoon,” he said, stopping a few feet away. He glanced at her lunch box and then at the empty space around her. “You’re alone.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, the girls went off with those boys. They didn’t want to intrude, and, well, it would’ve been rude for me to tag along since I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned, his grip tightening on the book in his hands. “They left you here.”

Prim waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s fine. I already had lunch anyway, and they asked me to keep this spot for them. It’s a nice spot, don’t you think? Nice shade, good view...”

Her voice trailed off as she gestured to the courtyard around them, clearly trying to paint the situation in the best possible light.

Riddle remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wanted to tell her that her friends shouldn’t have asked her to stay behind just to save a spot. That if they truly cared about her, they wouldn’t leave her sitting alone while they went off with boys who didn’t even acknowledge her.

But Prim’s smile didn’t falter. She continued to eat her lunch, completely at ease.

Riddle’s mind whirred. He had never been particularly skilled at making friends himself, and he often struggled with understanding social dynamics. Yet he couldn’t stand to see someone as kind and cheerful as Prim being so blatantly overlooked.

“Prim,” he said abruptly, his tone firmer than he intended.

She looked up, blinking at him. “Yes?”

“Would you... like to join me for lunch?”

Prim’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. “Oh, um, really?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Yes,” Riddle said, a little awkwardly. “If you’ve already eaten, I could still use some company. That is, if you’re not busy keeping this spot occupied.”

Prim laughed softly, her smile brightening even further. “Well, I suppose the spot will still be here when I get back.”

Riddle stepped back, allowing her to stand. As they walked toward the cafeteria together, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit alone this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

The shade under the oak tree was nice, shielding them from the midday sun as the breeze rustled through the leaves. Prim sat with her three friends—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal—all of whom were laughing and chatting animatedly, their voices blending together in an upbeat melody of giggles.

Prim listened quietly, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her lips twitching upward in a small smile. Hazel said something that made Trinity snort, and Opal burst into another fit of laughter. Prim tried to join in, even though she didn’t entirely understand the joke.

They’re just so confident, she thought, watching them. “It’s one of the things I admire about them.”

Sometimes they’d say things to her that she wasn’t sure how to take. Like when Hazel turned to her mid-laughter and said, “Prim, I wish I could be as pure as you. So innocent!”

Prim chuckled along, though her cheeks flushed. They mean well, she reassured herself. It’s not like they’re being mean. I guess I don’t get all their jokes, so they’re right. It’s fine.

Then there was Trinity, who had tilted her head at Prim’s pigtails earlier and remarked, “Your hair is so unique, Prim. I’d never have the patience to deal with all those curls!”

Prim had thanked her for the comment, though part of her wondered if “unique” had been the right word. It was true, though—her hair never behaved like Hazel’s silky locks, Trinity’s sleek waves, or Opal’s perfectly tousled bob. But it was fine.

It was fine.

When a group of boys approached, Prim felt herself tense up slightly. She wasn’t used to being approached by boys—especially not bold, self-assured ones like these.

Hazel, Trinity, and Opal perked up immediately, their voices gaining a lilting edge as they welcomed the boys with coy smiles and casual jokes. Prim sat up straighter, her cheeks flushing pink as she tried to follow along with the conversation.

One of the boys told a story about his latest Spelldrive match, and Prim laughed softly at the right moment, hoping it sounded natural. But the boy didn’t look her way. None of them did. Their eyes were fixed on her friends.

She felt a small pang in her chest.

It’s okay, she told herself quickly. She isn’t his type. And that’s okay.

Her friends were tall, poised, and effortlessly pretty. Their hair shimmered in the sunlight, their makeup was flawless, and their laughter was infectious. Prim, meanwhile, was shorter, with unruly curls that seemed to have a mind of their own. Her braces made her mouth always stand open a bit, and as long as she can remember she talked with a lisp.

They’re just more... grown-up than me, she reasoned. And that’s okay. I’ll get there eventually.

For a fleeting moment, the pang threatened to grow into something heavier. But she shook it off, summoning her usual cheerful resolve.

I totally get it, she told herself, nodding slightly as if to reinforce the thought. I understand why they’d get all the attention. Besides, I don’t even need a boyfriend right now! I have my friends. And I’m happy for them. Really, I am.

When the boys eventually asked Hazel, Trinity, and Opal to join them for lunch, Prim was already smiling again.

“Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?” Hazel said over her shoulder as they stood.

“Sure! No problem!” Prim said brightly, waving at them as they walked off.

She settled back under the tree and reached for her lunch box. It’s fine, she thought as she unwrapped her sandwich. I packed a good lunch, and this spot is really nice. I’m totally fine. And they’ll be back soon anyway.

As she took a bite, she looked up and froze mid-chew.

Riddle stood a few feet away, his red hair unmistakable in the dappled sunlight. He was looking directly at her, his expression as composed and stern as always.

“Oh!” Prim swallowed quickly, straightening up and brushing crumbs off her lap. “Hi, Riddle!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

Riddle wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked her to join him for lunch. It wasn’t as though he usually sought out company during meals. Quite the opposite, in fact—he valued the quiet solitude that came with sitting alone, free from the noise and chaos of others.

And yet, here he was, walking toward the cafeteria with Prim by his side, her cheerful chatter filling the silence he usually preferred.

“I really didn’t expect you to invite me to lunch,” Prim said, her voice bright with surprise. “But thank you! It’s nice to have someone to eat with. It’s always fun!”

Riddle glanced at her, taking in her wide smile and the way her dark blue eyes seemed to light up with genuine delight. Her optimism was almost childlike in its sincerity, and though it was different from the carefully composed demeanor he usually gravitated toward, he found it oddly... refreshing.

As they settled at a table, Prim eagerly unpacked her lunch box again, chatting as she went. “So, do you always eat alone? Or do you sit with your dorm mates sometimes?”

“I usually eat alone,” Riddle replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s more efficient. The dining hall can be... chaotic.”

Prim tilted her head, nodding thoughtfully. “I get that. It can get loud sometimes. But it’s nice to have people to talk to, don’t you think?”

Riddle hesitated. Socializing had always felt more like a chore than a pleasure for him. Yet, as he watched Prim, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. “Perhaps,” he said finally.

They fell into a rhythm of small talk, much to Riddle’s surprise. Prim carried most of the conversation, her cheerful nature making it easy to follow along. She told him about her favorite classes, how she was still adjusting to Lady Mystic College, and how much she loved the library at Night Raven College.

“And the oak tree in the courtyard!” she added with a bright smile. “It’s such a nice spot to sit. Perfect shade, good view... It’s the best, really.”

Riddle nodded politely, though his thoughts lingered on why she’d been left there in the first place.

Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up. “You said earlier that your friends went off with those guys and left you behind. Does that happen often?”

Prim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, well... not often,” she said, though her tone wavered slightly. “They were just being polite, you know? It wouldn’t have been right for me to tag along if I wasn’t invited.”

Riddle frowned. “But if they’re your friends, shouldn’t they have invited you in the first place?”

Prim hesitated, her cheerful facade faltering for the briefest moment. “I mean, they’re just... busy. And I don’t really mind! I’m happy to keep the spot for them.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Do you really think that’s fair to you?”

She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her lunch box. “Well, it’s not like they’re being mean or anything,” she said quietly. “They’re nice to me. And they’re so cool and pretty, you know? I’m lucky to have friends like them.”

Riddle’s frown deepened. “Are they really your friends if they constantly leave you out? If they treat you like an afterthought?”

Prim’s shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, her ever-present smile wavered. “They have to be my friends… if they’re not…” she said softly, “then... it would mean I didn’t have any at all…”

Riddle’s chest tightened at her words. He’d never been particularly adept at comforting others, but the sadness in her voice stirred something in him. He’d always been strict, proper, and precise in his interactions, yet in this moment, he felt compelled to say something more.

“You do have a friend,” he said quietly, surprising even himself.

Prim’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Mm?”

Riddle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face heating slightly. “I mean... I wouldn’t invite just anyone to lunch. So if that makes you feel better... consider me your friend.”

For a moment, Prim simply stared at him. Then her face broke into the brightest smile he’d ever seen, her braces gleaming as her eyes filled with joy. “Really? You mean it?”

He cleared his throat, looking away to hide his own embarrassment. “Yes. Of course.”

“Yeah!” Prim said eagerly, her sadness forgotten as she practically beamed at him. “Yeah, I guess we are friends, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The park on Sage Island was quiet that afternoon, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chatter providing a soothing backdrop to Riddle’s thoughts. He didn’t come to the park often—it seemed frivolous to idle in nature when there were more productive things to do—but something had drawn him there today.

It was then that he saw her.

Prim was balancing on a low railing near the path, her arms stretched out for balance and her curls bouncing with each careful step. She looked utterly carefree, the sunlight catching the faint glint of her braces as she smiled to herself.

Riddle slowed his pace, his gaze lingering on her. The sight struck a chord in him—her innocence, her lightheartedness. She embodied a freedom he had never known.

Growing up under his mother’s strict rules, even the thought of such behavior would have been unthinkable. Walking on a railing? Playing games in public? There was no place for that in the rigid schedule of the Rosehearts household. And even now, as a college student, Riddle often felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, keeping him bound to the rules he upheld so fiercely.

Prim, however, seemed untouched by such constraints.

When she spotted him, her face lit up, and she hopped down from the railing with a bounce. “Riddle!” she called, hurrying toward him. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, straightening his posture.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said, her grin bright as ever. “Are you here for a walk too?”

“I thought some fresh air might be beneficial,” Riddle replied. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m on my way to the bookstore,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I need a new diary. My old one’s almost full.”

“A diary,” he echoed.

“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “I write about everything—what I did, how I felt, what made me happy. It’s nice to look back on later, you know?”

Riddle nodded, though he couldn’t fully relate. His own life had always been so structured, so focused on rules and expectations, that the idea of reflecting on daily joys felt almost... indulgent.

As they walked together, Prim continued to chat, her energy as boundless as ever. “I’ve been hanging out less with Hazel, Trinity, and Opal,” she said after a while, her tone casual. “It’s easier now that I have a friend.”

Her words caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. “You mean me.”

“Of course!” she said brightly, glancing at him with a sincerity that made his chest tighten.

He felt his cheeks heat slightly and quickly looked away. “I... see.”

Prim tilted her head, her expression softening. “Thank you for having lunch with me last week, by the way. It was really nice. I hope I wasn’t talking too much.”

Riddle shook his head. “You were fine. I didn’t mind.”

Her face lit up again, and she clasped her hands together. “I’m glad! I’ve been eating alone more often lately, and I think I finally get what you mean—it’s nice to have that quiet sometimes. It’s efficient, and I can actually focus on my food!”

Hearing her repeat his words from before made something stir in his chest. She wasn’t just cheerful; she genuinely listened.

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Prim spoke again. “You should come with me to the bookstore,” she said suddenly, her voice bright.

Riddle blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Why not? It could be fun! And I’m sure they’ve got plenty of interesting books for you to look at.”

He hesitated, searching for a reason to decline, but none came. “I suppose I could use a new reference book,” he said finally, convincing himself it was a practical decision. “Very well.”

Prim clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bookstore was small but inviting, its shelves packed with an eclectic mix of novels, journals, and academic texts. Prim headed straight for the section of journals, her excitement palpable.

“What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a diary with a floral cover. “Or this one?” She picked up another, this one decorated with stars.

“They’re both... adequate,” Riddle said diplomatically, though his tone lacked the sternness it usually carried.

Prim giggled. “You’re so formal, Riddle. You’re so cool.”

He stiffened, the unexpected comment catching him off guard. “I—cool is hardly the appropriate word.”

She laughed again, completely unbothered by his awkwardness. “I like it,” she said simply, flipping through the pages of a diary.

Riddle turned his attention to the nearest shelf, scanning the titles even as his thoughts lingered on her. She was so unabashedly sincere, so quick to express herself without reservation. It was entirely unlike him, and yet he found it oddly refreshing.

“What kind of books do you like?” Prim asked suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

“Primarily academic texts,” Riddle replied. “I don’t often read for leisure.”

“That makes sense,” she said with a nod. “You’re so disciplined, Riddle. I admire that about you.”

He glanced at her, momentarily speechless. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if her praise was simply the truth. “Thank you,” he said quietly, unsure of how else to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back from the bookstore was peaceful, with Prim happily clutching her new diary to her chest. She was chatting about the various things she planned to write in it—her favorite moments, her thoughts on the day, and even the little goals she set for herself. Riddle listened quietly, his hands neatly folded behind his back, offering the occasional nod or small response.

As they reached a crossroads in the park, Prim slowed her pace, her expression shifting slightly. “I should probably start studying when I get back,” she said with a small sigh. “I’ve got this one chapter that’s been giving me so much trouble.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow. “What subject?”

“Potions,” Prim replied, scrunching her nose. “There’s this one section about ingredient interactions that I just can’t wrap my head around. It’s like the words blur together every time I try to read it.”

He stopped walking, considering her words. He remembered studying potions theory himself the year prior. It wasn’t an easy subject, especially when it came to understanding the subtleties of ingredient dynamics. But he’d mastered it, of course.

Prim tilted her head, glancing at him curiously. “What is it?”

Riddle felt a flicker of hesitation. The idea of offering his help seemed straightforward enough, but his mind began to overanalyze. Would it be strange to suggest it? They were friends now, weren’t they? And helping a friend was a reasonable thing to do.

But what if she felt pressured to accept? Prim had always been eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel obligated. Still, she had said she was glad they were friends. Surely she wouldn’t find the gesture unwelcome?

“Riddle?” Prim’s voice was soft, her gaze searching his.

He straightened, pushing his doubts aside with a deep breath. “If you’re struggling with that chapter,” he began carefully, “I could help you study.��

He watched her expression closely, his heart beating just a little faster as he waited for her response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prim’s POV

Prim clutched her study books tightly to her chest as she walked toward Night Raven College. The path to the all-boys school was winding, but she didn’t mind. The weather was nice, the air crisp, and her heart felt unusually light.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the day before, when Riddle had offered to help her with her potions studies. It had been so unexpected, and the moment he’d asked, she’d said yes without hesitation.

Of course, she was grateful for his help. Riddle was brilliant—he knew so much, and she was certain he’d explain things far better than her textbook ever could. But more than that, the thought of spending time with him made her genuinely happy.

She smiled to herself, her steps quickening as she remembered the feeling. She’d made an actual friend.

In high school, she’d been alone more often than not. She tried to fit in, but it was like she didn’t quite know how. Her curls were too unruly, her braces too shiny, and her lisp made her stumble over words when she was nervous. She remembered watching other girls gather in groups, laughing and chatting easily, while she lingered on the edges, hoping to be noticed.

When she’d started college, she promised herself things would be different. She’d make friends this time, no matter what. And she had—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal had been quick to include her. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that their kindness only went so far.

Prim sighed softly, her grip tightening on her books. Her so-called friends weren’t really nice to her, not in the way that mattered. She knew that. But wasn’t it better to have bad friends than none at all?

At least, that’s what she used to believe.

But then there was Riddle. He was so different from anyone she’d met before—kind in his own quiet, composed way. He didn’t laugh at her or make her feel small. When he talked to her, it felt like he actually saw her, not just the odd girl with the curls and the braces.

Riddle is a real friend, she thought, her heart fluttering.

She almost started skipping as she neared the gates of Night Raven College, her excitement outweighing her nerves. The idea of walking into an all-boys school was a little intimidating, but she didn’t let it bother her. Riddle had offered to help, and she was determined to make the most of it.

When the imposing gates of the school came into view, Prim spotted a familiar figure waiting for her.

Riddle stood with his hands clasped neatly in front of him, his posture as straight and proper as ever. He spotted her immediately and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, his tone formal but not unfriendly.

“Hi, Riddle!” she greeted, her voice bright as she hurried up to him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, gesturing toward the campus. “I thought it would be best to guide you directly to my dorm. Night Raven College can be... confusing to navigate if you’re unfamiliar.”

She nodded eagerly, her nerves momentarily forgotten. “I really appreciate it. I’ll try not to get in the way too much!”

Riddle gave a small shake of his head. “You’re not in the way. I offered, didn’t I?”

Her smile widened at his words, and as they began walking, she glanced around, taking in the grand architecture of the school.

“It’s such a big campus,” she said, her awe evident. “It must be amazing to go here.”

“It has its merits,” Riddle said simply, though there was a faint note of pride in his voice.

Prim followed him through the gates and into the courtyard, her excitement bubbling up again. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain—Riddle was her friend now. She can’t wait for tonight, when she can write in her diary about today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle’s POV

As Riddle led Prim through the gates of Heartslabyul, he noticed the usual shift in demeanor among his dormmates. Students standing idly by quickly straightened their postures, their conversations quieting as they noticed him. It was routine, of course—expected behavior from those under his jurisdiction—but it wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to.

Prim, however, seemed to notice. She glanced around curiously as they passed a group of first-years who hurriedly bowed their heads in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Housewarden!” one of them called.

Prim blinked, slowing her steps slightly. “Housewarden?” she repeated, looking at Riddle.

He cleared his throat, feeling a faint warmth creep up his neck. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am the housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Her eyes widened as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now!” she said, her voice light with realization. “No wonder everyone is so respectful around you. You’re in charge!”

Riddle frowned slightly, his usual composure slipping just a little. “It’s merely my duty,” he said, trying to downplay the significance.

Prim, however, seemed delighted. “That’s amazing, Riddle! You must be really good at what you do for them to listen to you like that.”

Her praise caught him off guard, and he quickly turned his attention back to the path, his face warming further. “It’s nothing remarkable. Let’s continue to my room.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they reached his room, Riddle opened the door and stepped aside to let Prim in. She hesitated for a moment before walking in, clutching her books tightly.

“I’ve never been in a boy’s room before,” she said with a small giggle, glancing around.

Riddle stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on the doorknob. “It’s just a room,” he said quickly, closing the door behind them.

Prim wandered further inside, her eyes wide as she took in the neat, organized space. The room was larger than she had expected, with a tidy desk, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a large canopy bed. Everything was perfectly arranged, a reflection of Riddle’s meticulous nature.

“This is so nice!” she said, smiling as she turned to him. “It’s so... Riddle.”

He blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s so neat and organized,” she said, laughing lightly. “It just feels like you. I love it.”

Her laughter was high but not too loud often accompanied by a snort. It was infectious and Riddle found himself relaxing slightly.

Prim grinned, plopping herself onto the edge of the chair near his desk and opening her books. “Okay, ready to study?”

He nodded, pulling out a chair for himself and settling in beside her. “Let’s begin. You mentioned you were struggling with ingredient interactions?”

As they worked through the chapter, Riddle was surprised by how focused Prim was. Though she had trouble grasping some of the concepts at first, she listened intently to his explanations, asking thoughtful questions and jotting down notes.

Her enthusiasm was refreshing, and Riddle found himself genuinely enjoying the session.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A knock at the door interrupted them just as Prim was beginning to understand a particularly tricky concept.

“Come in,” Riddle called, glancing up.

The door opened to reveal Trey, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. He smiled when he saw them. “I thought you two might want a snack,” he said, placing the tray on the desk.

Prim’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow! These look amazing!”

“They’re still warm,” Trey said with a chuckle. “Help yourselves.”

Prim picked up a cookie and took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “These are so good!” she said, her voice muffled slightly by the cookie.

Riddle picked one up as well, though he was far more reserved in his reaction. “Thank you, Trey,” he said politely.

Trey turned to Prim, bowing his head slightly wearing a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Trey, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul.”

Prim sat up straight and returned his smile with one of her own. “Nice to meet you too! I’m Prim!”

Trey smiled knowingly, glancing between the two of them. “Well… Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading out.

As the door closed, Prim turned to Riddle, her smile as bright as ever. “Your dormmates are so nice. And these cookies? Best study snack ever.”

Riddle nodded, feeling a faint sense of pride in Heartslabyul’s hospitality. “Trey is an excellent baker,” he said.

Prim grinned, holding up her notebook. “And you’re an excellent teacher. I’m actually starting to get this now!”

Riddle looked at her, his expression softening. “You’re a quick learner,” he said. “You just needed someone to explain it in a way that made sense to you.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Thanks, Riddle. Really. You’re the best.”

His face warmed again, and he quickly turned back to the open book in front of him. “Let’s continue,” he said, his voice a little tighter than usual.

Prim giggled, taking another bite of her cookie before diving back into her notes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riddle shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his thoughts kept wandering. It wasn’t the material that distracted him—he’d long since mastered the subject—but rather Prim, who was sitting just a little too close.

She was leaning forward slightly, her notebook open as she jotted down notes, the end of her pencil tapping lightly against her lip in thought. Her blonde curls framed her face in soft spirals, bouncing faintly with every movement. Her braces gleamed when she smiled, the colorful elastics drawing his attention in a way he didn’t expect.

When she spoke, her slight lisp added an unexpected charm to her words, her voice full of enthusiasm even as she struggled with the material.

Riddle frowned slightly, feeling a warmth creep up his neck. He wasn’t used to this—having someone so close, so lively, so...

He surprised himself when the thought crossed his mind: She’s kind of cute.

The realization made his stomach twist, and he quickly looked back at his book, his posture stiffening. Focus, Riddle, he scolded himself silently. You’re here to help her study, nothing more.

Still, it was difficult to ignore her presence, especially when she turned to him with that bright smile, her gratitude shining in her eyes.

When their study session ended, Prim packed up her books, her smile never fading. “Thank you so much, Riddle,” she said for what felt like the tenth time. “You’re seriously the best. I actually feel like I understand this now!”

“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice clipped as he tried to maintain his composure.

Riddle walked her back to the gates, insisting on showing her the way in case she would get lost. Walking back they made a bit of small talk and Riddle could feel the stares. But he tried to ignore them, he was just walking his friend out.

Prim slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing when they arrived at the gates. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks again!”

She waved cheerfully before walking back to her own dorm, leaving Riddle alone.

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. The session had gone well, but he couldn’t shake the strange fluttering sensation in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in the Heartslabyul lounge, Riddle sat with a book in hand, though his thoughts kept drifting back to Prim’s visit.

“Hey, Riddle!”

He looked up to see Trey and Cater approaching, both wearing knowing smiles.

“How did the study session go?” Trey asked casually, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“Was she nice? Fun? Cute?” Cater added, leaning in with a teasing grin.

Riddle frowned, not catching the implication. “It went well. She understood the material by the end, and she was very polite.”

Cater’s grin widened. “Oh, ‘polite,’ huh? That’s it?”

“She seemed... eager to learn,” Riddle continued, ignoring Cater’s tone.

Trey chuckled softly. “And you were okay with her being in your space? You usually don’t let just anyone into your room.”

Riddle hesitated, adjusting his tie. “She’s a friend,” he said finally. “It’s natural to help a friend, isn’t it?” Calling her a friend almost made him feel proud.

Cater exchanged a look with Trey, his grin turning sly. “Right. A ‘friend.’”

Before Riddle could respond, the lounge door burst open, and Ace and Deuce strolled in.

“Hey, Housewarden!” Ace called, plopping down on one of the couches. “We heard you had a guest today.”

Deuce looked confused. “Guest?”

“Yeah,” Ace said, smirking. “A girl.”

Riddle’s grip on his book tightened. “What of it?”

“C’mon, spill! Is she your girlfriend or something?” Ace asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated grin.

Riddle’s face turned red, and he slammed his book shut. “O-of course not!” he snapped, his voice sharp.

Ace burst out laughing, clearly enjoying himself. “Whoa, calm down! I was just asking.”

“She’s a friend, nothing more,” Riddle said firmly, glaring at Ace.

Deuce, sensing the tension, elbowed Ace. “Knock it off, Ace. You’re being rude.”

“What? I’m just curious!” Ace said, still grinning.

Riddle stood abruptly, his expression stern. “If you’re finished with your childish remarks, I have work to do.”

He strode out of the lounge, his cape billowing behind him, leaving the others behind.

Trey shook his head, though he was smiling faintly. “You pushed too hard, Ace.”

“Aw, come on,” Ace said, leaning back with a laugh. “You can’t blame me for asking. Did you see how flustered he got?”

Cater grinned. “I don’t know, Ace. Maybe he’s just new to this whole ‘having friends’ thing.”

“Or maybe,” Trey said with a small chuckle, “he’s starting to realize that having a friend like Prim might be a little more important to him than he thought.”

None of them noticed the faint blush creeping up Riddle’s ears as he listened just outside the door, his grip tightening on his book.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #prim

498 notes · View notes

junrenjun · 2 months ago

Text

8:13 PM

lee jeno x reader

“These are so cute,” you mutter, lifting another one of the pictures off the table. The wedding is finally settling down a bit, a few people out on the dance floor while others talk amongst themselves at the tables. The rest of your tablemates have scattered around the room, leaving only you and Jeno.

Your boyfriend has his arm wrapped around the back of your chair, gazing down at the picture in your hands. “Mhm,” he hums, “should save that to a Pinterest board for our wedding.”

He says it so casually you almost choke on air. “Our wedding? You want to marry me?” you question. Now, you and Jeno have been dating for quite some time now. But not enough to truly, seriously talk about marriage. Nothing more than a few casual conversations about what the future could hold. Yet he says those words like you��re already engaged.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “You do want to get married, right?” He seems a little tentative now. Like he’s worried that he scared you off.

You’re quick to ease the tension. “Of course I want to get married. I just didn’t think you’d bring it up so nonchalantly like that.”

He smiles back at you with that crinkle in his eyes you love so much. Removing his hand from the back of your chair, he reaches out to grab the picture from you. He looks down at it with admiration. “I can already think of the pictures we could use,” he admits. “Like that one of you sleeping in the laundry basket. That one is cute.”

You giggle at his statement. “Okay,” you concede. “But only if we get to include the one where you are blowing bubbles with that weird pinwheel hat on.”

He sets the picture down, ruffling your hair a bit. “I think someone has had one too many of these,” he teases, pushing your champagne glass further away from you. You roll your eyes at him.

Jeno goes to say something once again, but is interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see your little cousin, her eyes pointed bashfully toward the floor and rocking on her heels. “Hello Aria,” he says, provoking her to actually look at him. “Whatcha need?”

She looks at you hesitantly before looking back toward your boyfriend. “Can you…dance with me, Jeno?” she whispers. The question has you realizing that the song has now switched to something slower, a few couples adorning the dance floor. How cute, you think to yourself.

“Of course,” he responds, grinning down at the girl. Before she knows it, Jeno is scooping her up, carrying her to the dance floor. You can hear her giggles fade as they reach the other side of the room.

Taking a breath, you look back toward the table, grabbing your champagne glass and another picture. Your moment of peace doesn’t last long though, because someone plops down in the seat next to you less than a minute later. When you look up, you spot your grandmother. “It’s a shame you didn’t participate in the bouquet toss. I was hoping you two would be next,” she taunts, looking pointedly at you.

You set the items down, opting to run your hands over your face in embarrassment. “Ah, grandma!” you complain. “You know we don’t believe in superstitious stuff like that. We’ll get there in our own time.”

She nods in understanding, but still smirks. Leaning closer to you, she begins to whisper. “You two would make me some beautiful grandbabies.”

Now you’re really blushing. Thoughts of having a mini Jeno running around your grandmother’s house flash through your mind. You try your best to push them away. “Seriously, amma?” you exclaim, though there’s no malice in your voice.

She points across the room. You follow her movements to find Jeno with a bright smile on his face, Aria twirling around in his arms. He reaches down to brush a strand of hair out of her face. You can’t help but gaze longingly at the scene, wishing that it was a daughter of your own. Your grandmother calls your name once more and you turn back to look at her. “If the next wedding I attend isn’t yours, that boy is getting a serious talk from me,” she says smugly. Without another word, she scoots back in her chair, walking back toward her own table.

You steal a glance at the bride and groom’s table. They’re lightly making conversation, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder with his hand hanging down to brush comforting strokes down her arm. Maybe that could be you and Jeno sometime soon.

Startled out of your thoughts once again, you see your boyfriend plop down next to you. Your cousin is nowhere to be found, likely back with her parents once again. “What were you and your grandma talking about?” he asks.

“Just about how she thinks you and I should be the next ones to be married. Said that we would make beautiful grandbabies.” you say, repeating her words with your own smirk.

It’s Jeno’s turn to blush, looking down at the floor. “We would,” he admits with a shy smile.

#lu writes #timestamp fic #lee jeno #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno imagine #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagine

303 notes · View notes

closerstars · 7 months ago

Text

small favors

mingyu x oc reader

fluff, friends to lovers

note: this is purely self-indulgent because i have a big fat ass crush on mingyu. havent got the time to proofread and fancify everything but pls enjoy!!!

—

"This is my third glass already. If that girl in the red dress doesn't stick around, I'm tapping out," you sigh, your face resting on your hand while the other holds onto your margarita. Mingyu had come up with the plan for you both to team up and help Wonwoo find a date at Seungcheol’s sister’s wedding party, and you had readily agreed.

You've known Wonwoo since childhood, introduced by his mom at the playground, and you've been the best of friends since then. Mingyu joined your circle in high school, and the three of you have been inseparable ever since.

"Hang in there. I think the girl in red might be the one. They’ve been chatting for a good ten minutes now," Mingyu remarks, checking his watch.

"Yeah? Let's see," you reply skeptically.

"Such a pessimist. Remember, she's your candidate," Mingyu teases.

"I don't know, I just don't see Wonwoo fully engaged in the conversation. She had that charm when I talked to her," you admit, though it's hard to tell from three tables away whether Wonwoo's truly interested or just politely listening.

As you both observe, Soonyoung joins in with his drink. "What are you both up to now?" he asks, following your gaze to Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress, looking at you and Mingyu with a confused expression.

Turning to Soonyoung, you ask, "Soonyoung, what do you think? Will the girl in the red dress be able to break through Wonwoo's defenses?"

He takes a sip and frowns at the aftertaste. "How come you never set me up? We're friends too, you know, both of you."

"Just answer the question," you roll your eyes.

Soonyoung takes another look at Wonwoo and the girl in the red dress. "I think she might," he finally answers, earning a nod of agreement from you.

"Hey, look! They're laughing!" Mingyu giggles at the sight of Wonwoo saying something that earns a laugh from the girl.

"Oh my god," you gush with Mingyu. "She just handed him her phone."

You playfully slap Mingyu’s arm. "Dude, they're exchanging numbers!"

Both matchmakers celebrate with high fives until the girl in the red dress exits their view and waves goodbye to Wonwoo.

"Wait, where's she going? Is she heading home already?" you wonder aloud, checking the time on your phone. When you look back up, the girl in the red dress passes by your table and greets you with a nod, saying, "Nice to meet you again, Y/N. Gotta go."

Wonwoo follows after her, approaching your table. As he sets his drink down, you immediately ask, “So?”

Wonwoo takes a sip of his drink. “She was alright,” he says nonchalantly, earning a disappointed expression from you, which he finds amusing.

"What do you mean she was alright?" Mingyu prompts.

"Well…" Wonwoo tilts his head, trying to recall the details. "She’s a photographer. So that’s a good start."

Impatient with his lack of detail, you sigh. Typical Wonwoo, a man of few words. "Okay. And?"

Wonwoo takes another sip. “She suggested I visit her photo exhibit sometime. So she gave me her Instagram page and I gave her mine too.”

Realizing your mission was a success, you grasp Mingyu's shoulder. Mingyu raises his glass, proposing a toast among the four of you.

"I'm so happy right now, I need another glass," you giggle, taking a sip of your margarita.

“Okay. Wonwoo’s got a date. How about me?” Soonyoung pouts, making you laugh. You then ask Mingyu to switch seats so you can play matchmaker with Soonyoung this time.

As you're in the middle of interviewing Soonyoung and scanning the crowd with him to find someone he’d want to talk to, Dami, Seungcheol’s sister in lawapproaches and grabs your arm, pulling you to her.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet!”

With wide eyes, you look at your tablemates and mouth "Help," but they only laugh at you.

“Bye!” Wonwoo teases, waving to you.

Meanwhile, the three guys left at the table continue drinking and talking over the jazz music playing in the background. Mingyu notices you at a table with Seungcheol as Dami walks through the crowd with her arm looped around some guy in a tux.

He figures maybe this is the guy Dami wanted to introduce you to. Guess they aren’t the only ones playing matchmaker that night.

Wonwoo notices his best friend looking intently from afar. He turns his head back to see you shaking hands with a handsome stranger. Mingyu’s eyes start to wander, trying to distract himself from the hint of jealousy he was feeling

“When is the DJ set going to start? I am so bored,” Soonyoung pouts as he scrolls through his phone, then gets nudged by Wonwoo, directing his attention to you observing something from a distance.

Soonyoung couldn’t help but tease. “Oh wow, Dami’s got good taste. I’d like to see how Y/N would play the game tonight.”

“What?” Mingyu snaps out of it and pretends not to hear.

“Good luck stealing her back, man. Just letting you know I’m always Team Mingyu.” Soonyoung pats Mingyu's back, gripping his drink and takes off.

Wonwoo then slides closer to Mingyu. “You know you’ve always had the advantage, right?”

Mingyu looks at him, confused. “Advantage? What are you talking about?” Mingyu knows what his best friend was talking about. Wonwoo is direct, but this conversation feels different. They've never discussed about him and Y/N before.

“Oh, come on, Mingyu. I've noticed the way you look at her lately. If you like her, just tell her and let it happen the way its fated to happen,” Wonwoo says, taking a sip of his drink, as though confessing to Y/N were as simple as ordering another round.

If telling Y/N what he felt was that easy for him and her, he could’ve done it sooner. But no. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure that this wasn’t just some sort of crush.

“Okay, let's calm down,” he chuckles nervously. “I’m just taking my time, hyung. And I also want to give her all the time and space she needs if…” he pauses. “… if she ever feels the same way.” He adds hastily, gulping down the rest of his drink. “This stuff is good. I need more.”

Conveniently, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere with two glasses in hand, setting them down their table. “I thought you might need another round,” he says, chuckling softly.

Mingyu thanks him, but before he can even grab his drink, you swoop in and snatch it from his hand, leaving the three of them surprised.

“Thanks,” you say, taking a sip and letting out a relieved sigh. You hadn't expected to meet one of your biggest radio DJ crushes, Joshua, at a wedding party. As the brief conversation with him ends, you hurriedly excuse yourself from Seungmi, feeling your face grow warmer by the second.

As you return to your table, Cheol gives Mingyu a teasing glance while sipping on his drink. “Y/N's pretty cute when she's flustered.”

“Oh shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes and then offered to get Mingyu a new glass which you did.

As you stepped away, Wonwoo chuckles at Cheol’s comment, earning an eye roll from Mingyu. “This is so annoying.”

“Why are you annoyed? Oh, I see. You know I heard that Joshua invited her to visit him at the radio booth sometime.” Cheol prods.

“She'll probably be too busy to go,” Mingyu counters.

“How would you know? Are you her manager?”

“What if I am?” Mingyu retorts, trying to play it cool.

They stop abruptly when you came back with a new drink in hand and gave it to Mingyu. “Gentlemen. I am back. Here’s your drink, sir.”

“So how’d it go meeting one of your celebrity crushes?” Wonwoo asks. He wanted to see how his bestfriend will react.

“Oh. Pfft. Yeah I think I played it real cool. Did I?” You turn to Seungcheol for affirmation but he laughs at you instead.

“You were good. Charming at least.” He winks at you and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ You then proceeded to rambling about Joshua’s radio show Sunday Mornings aired every Sunday morning.

“So annoying.” Mingyu mutters as he side eyes Seungcheol.

Wonwoo tries to hold in a laugh, covering his mouth with his drink. Mingyu takes another big sip from his drink thinking this was going to be a long night for him.

—

The tension Mingyu was feeling inside eases off as the night progressed. He has the alcohol to thank for that as well as when the dj finally starts his set for the after-after party.

You, however, was on a high and was extra loud for the night. Never in your life would you think you’d have the energy to goof around and match Soonyoung’s on the dancefloor considering that you weren’t that good of a dancer.

With your confidence at its peak you even pulled the bride to dance with you twirled her over to her now husband. The warmth and joy you felt was incomparable as you watched the newly weds dance and then seal everything with a kiss as the song ended.

Another song plays as you wanted to rest because your feet was starting to hurt already so you head to the bar for another drink as if you weren’t tipsy enough. You scan the room for somewhere to sit on but all you found was the flight of stairs from where the bride and groom had their grand entrance earlier that night.

Wonwoo was sitting down a step checking his phone. He then notices you approaching. He scoots a little and sweeps the space beside him with his hand for you to sit on.

“Tired?” He says with a welcoming smile.

“Yeah. A little.” You sigh as you carefully take a seat.

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” He asks like a dad asking his daughter if she had fun.

“Yes, dad. There were lots of boys hitting on me though.” You joke and scrunch your nose waiting for his reaction.

Wonwoo chuckles and plays along. “Ah my pretty daughter. The boys must’ve had a hard time getting your attention.”

“They’re just boys. I’m here for the party.”

“Really? No one caught your eye?” He points to the small crowd of people enjoying the music, dancing, having drinks.

You casually pretend to scan the crowd until you notice Mingyu was fast approaching still looking to be at full energy.

“I dunno. This guy seems pretty decent.” You shrugged. “Pretty. Decent. Kind.” You said that in a very smug way but heaven knows you meant it.

You’ve developed a skill of being friends with Kim Mingyu. And that was suppressing even the slightest infatuation that eventually grew over the years. Who wouldn’t have a crush on Kim Mingyu anyway?

You’ve had plenty of experience with girls befriending you just to get close to him, some would bribe you with coffee to have you give them his number. You get the coffee, ask Mingyu for permission if he’s comfortable with his number being given and then hand him the coffee you got for free.

With your sibling-like dynamic, he was so comfortable with sharing even his dating life sometimes it wasn’t as fun anymore because you realize how good of a person he was it’s almost unreal that some girls think of him as too naive when he’s really just that kind of person who always believes there is something good in everything.

You were glad to be his friend. You continue to learn a lot from him. There’s an internal struggle however, when that dreaded question “what if you wanted something more than being friends” comes to mind. It scares you. Scared that he might get to close to see through the cracks.

“What are you two doing?! Sitting down?! Really?!” Mingyu reaches for your hand while his other hand reaches for Wonwoo’s and then pulls the both of you up like his ragdolls.

This was always the dynamic between you three. Mingyu being the energetic golden retriever, Wonwoo being the calm black cat, you being the confused chihuahua to balance them out.

—

Later that night, you find yourself assisting a drunk Kwon Soonyoung to his hotel room.

As you search your purse for Soon’s key card he has entrusted you earlier that night, Wonwoo was trying to restrain Soon who was trying to kiss him while he laughs and giggles. Same with Mingyu. But he just talks to Soon in his state.

The door beeped and clicked open so you successfully assisted Soonyoung to his room. You help remove his blazer and then finally made him lay in bed.

Thankfully, your rooms were on the same floor so you all went your separate ways for the night.

Once you settled in and changed to a shirt and sweatpants. You were in the midst of removing stubborn makeup when you decided to open a bottle of beer to cap off the night

As you were quietly browsing photos you took in your hotel room you notices Mingyu’s coat that you lazily hung to a chair.

You text him.

“You still awake??? forgot to give your coat back sorry”

“i’ll go get it in a minute” he replied

You continue browsing the photos you took for tonight and you stop at photos Soonyoung took of Mingyu and you making funny faces. Your lips curl to a smile as you remember this was taken after you sent Wonwoo off with a girl to talk too.

You heard knocking so you toss your phone to your bed and set the beer bottle down. You get Mingyu’s coat and open the door.

“Hey.” You were greeted with Mingyu hair still a bit wet from the shower, obvious from the droplets of his hoodie.

“I was going to give it later in the morning but you were eager to get it.” You hand him your coat.

“You can just tell me you’re gonna hug it to your sleep if you want to you know.” He reaches for it and your hands slightly brush together.

Your face contorts. “Ew. Why the hell would I do that? Creepy.”

“So you can dream of me. Duh.” He is still at it.

“I’ll pass. Good night, Gyu.” You were not having enough of it you rolled your eyes and was about to close the door but his hand stops it.

There was silence between you two for a few seconds. He then takes a step closer, height towering over you. At this moment you felt as if you were put under his spell. Unable to move, you focus on his forehead since your legs might just give up if you look straight into his eyes.

His eyes traveling from your eyes nose and lips.

He softly touches your fingers, moving up your arms barely touching it with his fingertips then tracing your jaw.

You feel your breath slowing down. Your eyes trying to read his. Was this really happening? Should you let it happen?

“Can I kiss you?” He says quietly.

You nod slightly, closed your eyes then it happens. You felt the warmth spread to your face.

Mingyu smiles as he pulled away. Both your eyes meeting each other. You sigh a little. Your foreheads against each other.

“You taste like beer.” He giggles softly and you let out a shy laugh.

You weren’t sure what got to you as you reached for his neck to kiss him again.

After you break it off there was a pause and then you both go back to laughing faces against each other. You have no idea if it was just the high of finally doing what both your hearts wanted to do for a long while. And finally meeting halfway with what the score is between the two of you.

You were both interrupted with the sound of the door being opened. You both straighten up as if nothing happened.

“I-uh…” Mingyu clears his throat. “Goodnight, Y/N.

You touch your nape and avoided eye contact. “Yeah uh. Good night, Gyu.”

—

It was another long day for you and Mingyu at work. While you were busy writing and revising scripts and trying to help your editor with the video editing, Mingyu was busy shooting new content for the project you were working together for. He was the director this time and you were one of the writers.

No one has said a word ever since that kiss. You were at your best at pretending that it did not bother you at all and kept busy at work.

He asked you to eat lunch with him at your favorite sandwich place.

The whole time you sat there were complaining about how you were frustrated at one of your scripts keep getting scrapped by one of the hosts you were shooting.

“Can I talk to you about something” He asked softly.

You peel off the wrapper of your subway BLT “Yeah go on.“ And then you took a big bite.

“About that kiss.” His eyes not leaving yours. Observing how you’d react.

You somehow mastered controling your reactions being with Mingyu for years.

“What about it?” You said nonchalantly. “I was pretty drunk that night.” No you weren’t. You were having a beer and completely aware.

“You…were?” He tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Okay. But I remember you kissing me back.” He was taken aback by your reply. You were clearly not as kissing anyone she sees drunk level as Soonyoung.

“Yeah, cause I was drunk. We do and say stupid things when we’re drunk. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” You meet his eyes this time to make your lie more convincing to him but moreso yourself.

Mingyu was left confused. You were not drunk that night.

He raised an eyebrow because you were obviously lying. You were more stern, retained more eye contact when you lie. It’s the same strategy you do when you’re pushed to do revisions to scripts that you did not want to do because it’ll only change the story.

“Look I just want to you to know that I don’t regret doing that.”

“Mmhmm.” You were busy chewing your sandwich and back to avoiding eye contact.

“And that I have liked you long enough for me to have the courage to do that.”

He can see your eyes widen and proactively try to avoid his. Your gut goes crazy until your eyes meet his. You stay there and your gut eases.

You were about to say something but couldn’t find the words so you just closed your mouth and looked into his eyes now and sighed.

“But please don’t say anything. You don’t have to answer.”

“And just tell me if you’re not comfortable with this. I mean we do work together almost all the time.” He then takes a big bite of the sandwich he barely touched after all that.

“It’s fine. I mean… It was a drunken mistake on me. I just-” You sighed again and wanted to say something but your emotions were all over the place. “Thank you. For telling me this.”

“Are we cool?”

You smiled. “Course we are.”

—

“So… Wonwoo told me something earlier before he left.” You peeked through your laptop and glanced at Mingyu who was cooking.

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing. He just told me that he… saw us kiss that night at the wedding.” You shrug trying to keep your tone as casual as you can.

“Okay. And?”

“He said that whatever that was, it’s safe with him. It’s none of his business.” You stood up from your seat and walked to their fridge.

“I just told him that it was nothing. I was drunk.” You said as you searched for a can of soda and then reached for it.

Mingyu’s eyebrows were raised at the sound of you saying you were drunk excuse again. He turns to face you with arms crossed across his chest. “It was nothing huh? And you were drunk.”

“Yeah. I was. Haven’t we talked about this?” You opened the soda but almost fizzed out but you drink it up with your mouth before it spills.

Mingyu scoffs. “You can’t keep convincing yourself that you were too drunk to kiss me back that night,” Mingyu finally snaps, his frustration boiling over. He’s tired of you dismissing your kiss as a drunken mistake. It wasn’t just about the kiss he was frustrated about.

You were a mess. You were going on this push and pull game of yours. You would be sweet one day and then the next one push him away. It wasn’t as if Mingyu didn’t see this coming knowing you.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“You were sober,” Mingyu states firmly, taking a step closer to her. “You kissed me back.” He removes his apron this time and carefully sets it aside.

Your arms cross defensively. “And what if I did?”

“Just admit it,” Mingyu insists, his voice tinged with exasperation. “I kissed you because I like you, you kissed me back, and now you keep saying you were drunk and it was nothing?”

“Stop saying the word ‘kiss’!” You retort, your irritation becoming more obvious.

“Stop acting like a child!” Mingyu shoots back, his frustration building up.

“I was just experimenting, okay? Can we drop it now?” Your tone softens slightly as you resigns herself to the conversation.

“Experimenting? For what? You’re unbelievable! Are we guinea pigs now to experiment your feelings on?” Mingyu’s disbelief is palpable.

“I was trying to see if it was real,” you admit reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What is?” Mingyu’s gaze softens as he meets her eyes.

“You and I,” you replie quietly, your defenses crumbling. “Whatever this is.”

There’s a moment of silence as they both process your confession.

Finally, you sigh, tone resigned. “I was just checking. Making sure what I felt was real. So I can confront it and have the guts to tell you.”

“But you kissed me, so I kissed you back, and then I went crazy, so I wanted to think about it for days, hence me trying to convince myself and you all that I was drunk!”

Mingyu’s eyes soften, a hint of understanding dawning in them as they trail from her eyes to her lips. “Well, do you want to check again?” he asks softly.

You chuckle, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re so stupid,” you murmur. “I’m not kissing you again.”

“You want to,” Mingyu insists, leaning in closer.

You place your palm on his chest, stopping him from closing the gap. “Yeah, I kinda do,” you admit, before leaning in for a short kiss.

#mingyu x oc #mingyu x reader #svt x reader #svt #oneshot #kim mingyu #seventeen #seventeen x reader #fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #mingyu fluff #wonwoo #seungcheol #soonyoung #mingyu imagines #svt imagines #svt fanfic #acewrites

491 notes · View notes

scary-grace · 6 months ago

Text

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

340 notes · View notes

billwidoll · 7 months ago

Text

Sweet as Cherry

Summary: You reject yourself to be with Rafe and when he finds out about this, he was ready to make your life hell Until you get a date

Warnings: for over 18s, verbal violence, physical violence, psychological violence, Toxic and aggressive relationship

Author's Notes: This story is a little heavy and if you don't like it, don't read it

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

It all started on a normal Thursday afternoon, you were at college waiting for the next class to start. It turns out that there was only you in the room, you were like the nerd in the room, so you were always the one He arrived earlier. but incredibly Rafe Cameron was there too And it didn't take long for him to talk to you

"Hello... you and Y/n?" Rafe says smiling at you

You were surprised by Rafe's greeting, he was the popular one in college and a bad boy, obviously you didn't like these types of things or these types of Boys

"Oh hi...I'm Y/n" you say with a friendly smile at Rafe

And he smiles with his smile

"Aren't you going to ask who I am, doll?" Rafe speaks with a disgusting smile

You laugh at this comment causing Rafe to hiss in confusion

"For God's sake, who doesn't know who Rafe Cameron is?" You say smiling and that also makes Rafe laugh a little.

"okay... so I'm famous to you?" Rafe speaks, sitting on a chair that was next to them.

"and...like that. But it doesn't fit that much!" You say in a joking tone.

In reality, you didn't even know why you were being so attentive to Rafe, you knew what he was like and how he treated people. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you to just copy the homework he didn't do.

When Rafe was about to say something else, the teacher and some other students arrived at the time, interrupting them.

It was obvious that Rafe was frustrated, he was winning you over, he was feeling it. Rafe had his eye on you for a long time, but never tried anything, so he decided this was the time

You sat at a table you always sat at, but this time Rafe was your tablemate and you didn't understand because he always sat in the back, far away from you.

"ae! Y/n! How about you meet me at my house at 5pm? I have a surprise for you" Rafe says in a whisper because of the teacher

"Sorry Rafe...but I'm going to study today" you say giving him a friendly smile, you weren't lying you were really going to study

"Ah, come on? This is a chance for us to meet, don't you think?" Rafe speaks with a hopeful look

"how about another day, hun?" You speak last, turning your attention back to the books

And Rafe couldn't deny that he was very upset and sad about it, you were the first girl to not accept an invitation from him. But he wasn't going to give up

Fourdayslater

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

After two days, Rafe couldn't stop and think about you. He was always stalking you on Instagram or any social network, He was always going to the coffee shop you worked at.

You were at work on another normal day and Rafe ended up showing up there, you thought he had just stopped by to say "hi" but Rafe's intentions weren't like that.

"Hi Rafe! What are you doing here?" You ask, giving a friendly smile from behind a counter.

"Ah...I came to see you.” Rafe says giving you his best smile and it ends up leaving you embarrassed

"Well... I won't be able to pay attention to you now because I'm working..." You say, your cheeks turning red.

"what's your problem with y/n? Always avoiding me, always making an excuse..." Rafe speaks frustratedly to you and that makes you angry

"I'm sorry if I'm too busy a girl for you!" You shout, but then restrain yourself because you are at your workplace

"okay... and so?" Rafe says it like you and he were having a lovers' fight

"Rafe...What do you want from me, hun? I would do anything for you to leave me alone now!"

You talk already stressed to him

"A date!" Rafe says simply

"a date?" You repeat and he nods

"Yes! Me and you in a restaurant, what do you think?"

Rafe speaks, approaching you and increasing a smile on your face.

"no, I don't want to go on a date with you, Rafe"

you say, lowering your head, you've never turned down a date. But going out with Rafe was too much for you, you didn't want to be another prize in the His

When you refused Rafe's invitation his physiology simply fell, Rafe's eyes quickly darkened, he was starting to break out in a cold sweat

"what? Are you saying you won't go out with me?" Rafe speaks sounding like a robot that was about to attack you and you were scared there

"and that's right Rafe, I don't want to go out with you now or ever, okay?" You speak harshly, ready to serve the next customers, leaving Rafe alone and angry.

Fourdayslater

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

After you didn't want to go out with Rafe, he decided to make your life hell. When you woke up he was there somewhere watching you and you knew it, he was making fun of you From you somewhere in college, he kept treating you like a slave when he went to his work place. But the worst part is when he followed you on the street or when he sent you gifts and love letters or Threatening

You were already tired and fed up with everything Rafe was doing to you, but the worst was going to happen on Wednesday night.

You were in your apartment with the doors locked and the windows too. Everything was calm, so you went to the bathroom to take a shower, going there you ended up taking off your clothes and getting into the hot, bubbly bathtub.

You lay down in the bathtub and closed your eyes, resting. But out of nowhere you end up hearing a voice behind you

"so beautiful...it's a shame it's not mine" Rafe says standing in the doorway smiling, this makes you get up quickly showing off your naked body

When you realize it, you immediately grab a towel that was close to you.

"What are you doing here Rafe?! Can you leave me alone!" you say, screaming desperately, covering yourself with the towel

"no, honey, don't cover yourself, I was seeing a beautiful view" Rafa says walking slowly towards you

"Rafe...please...leave me alone...please" you said with tears in your eyes and slowly moving away with each step Rafe took

"Leave you alone? Why would I leave the most beautiful girl alone?" Rafe speaks with his threatening voice and dark eyes

Now, finally you and Rafe were face to face. Looking deeply, Rafe looked at you like a predator, but you only knew how to be afraid

"...what do you want from me?" You speak with the tears slowly coming down

"I just want a date, my doll" Rafe says almost in a whisper, running his hands over your red face

"Okay, okay. And I'll go out with you, okay?" You say accepting almost desperately

"Do you understand? It's so easy to accept being my girlfriend" Rafe says, smiling like he's crazy and holding your face

"What? Rafe...and just a date, I'm not your girlfriend." You say amazed and Rafe shakes his head no

"Yes, you and my girlfriend yes, and then you will be my wife" Rafe says smiling but squeezing your face, Making you have tears in your eyes even more

"You don't want to make me angry, right? You know what I do when I'm angry." Rafe speaks clearly threatening you

Soon after, he kisses you desperately and madly, the kiss had fear, passion, love, aggression, all emotions flowed from that kiss. Now you were definitely Rafe's

209 notes · View notes

inexplicifics · 11 days ago

Note

Hi inex! Wow, if geralt is jaskier's muse i think lambert is yours, he's got more than everybody else combined. Could i please see a wee snippet from alpha!milena or aiden vs puss in boots?

(Picking just two was the hardest thing I've done all year! 🎆)

Lambert is best prickly wonderful boy, and is absolutely inspiring. Have some Aiden in the omegaverse!

They reach Kaer Morhen just as autumn is starting to turn into proper winter, and are greeted at the gate by a craggy old beta who looks them over, shakes his head a little, and says, “Come in, lads, and let’s get some stew into you. You need more meat on your bones.” The old beta leads them into a long hall full of tables and happily chattering people, and sits them down next to a man about three or four years older than Aiden is, with dark hair and bright, clever eyes. An omega, Aiden realizes, as he gets close enough to smell the other man. An omega who wears a long knife at his waist and grins with all his teeth as he argues with his tablemates - an omega who isn’t mated, who isn’t cowed, who is everything Aiden wants Gaetan to grow up to be.

#questions answered #wip folders game

81 notes · View notes

heavenlyraindrops · 2 months ago

Text

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Ten

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: very brief mention of blood, profanity, smoking

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Ten:

You tugged your black top, which had ridden up your midriff, back down towards your belt as you stormed into the Last Drop, shoving patrons as you passed through the crowd. Sevika was at a table, ashtray half-full and glass half empty.

Scowling, you grabbed her arm, the one concealed by her cloak. Your hand made contact with metal through the fabric.

She stared at you. “[name],” she said flatly. You snatched your hand away, balling it into a fist.

“Tell me-“ you stabbed a finger at her chest, “there’s been men at my doorstep at least three times this week.”

She scoffed. “Probably because you run a brothel.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you hissed. She stared at you, a frown carving a notch into her forehead, before nodding at her tablemates. Slamming her palms onto the surface a little too hard she slowly heaved herself up.

“Let’s talk somewhere else,” she said.

You watched as she went to a corner, nodding at a door. You stared at her incredulously.

“Go in there with you?” You yelled over the din. “You must be insane.”

She groaned, and within moments you were both standing outside.

“You look real different, dressed like a normal person.” She nodded at your toned-down appearance. You scowled, flicking a hair out of your face. “Almost didn’t recognise you.”

“Whatever.” You took out a cigarette, rolling it between your fingers between placing it in between your lips. You’d dropped any efforts to keep up your beguiling, siren-like facade around Sevika- there was no point. You flicked open your lighter, palm shielding the flame.

“So what’s all this about men outside the brothel?”

“They’ve been heckling my girls. And guys,” you added. “I assumed they had something to do with your- boss, considering the fact I have something he wants.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, now that someone was actually listening.

Sevika must have taken notice of this, because her lips twitched. But she didn’t mention it. “You know, you look a lot like when we were younger. Before everything went to shit.”

“Did he send them?” Your voice was stone cold and hard. Sevika scowled at this.

“Of course he fucking didn’t. You think he’d stoop that low? I thought you knew him.”

You took a deep drag on your cigarette, not meeting her eyes as you exhaled. Your leg threatened to bounce with well-concealed anxiety. “Well, I don’t now. I want these bastards dealt with.”

Sevika crossed her arms. “Since when do I have to deal with your problems? Last I checked, it’s not you I’m working for.”

You scowled. “Well, something’s telling me that this is gonna be your problem soon enough,” you snapped. “Considering the fact that they’re looking for your boss.”

She paused. “Wait, what?”

“They keep bugging us about him. No idea why us,” you sneered, “because I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than be associated with you or his people, but sadly that’s the case. So hurry up and fix this before I send them your way for good.” You pushed the cigarette into her chest. “Enjoy, errand-girl.”

And with that you turned around and stalked off, pulling your coat around you as your brisk steps carried you away from the Last Drop. Breath misting in the air, you turned to look at Sevika. But all you saw was the door swinging shut as she disappeared back into the bar.

You hurried back into the brothel, a gust of warm air enveloping you in a snug, cozy embrace. Immediately the feeling was quenched as you turned and saw a girl with big glassy eyes and mousy brown hair looking up at you, arms outstretched.

You gingerly shrugged off your coat and dumped it in her hands. She followed you to your office, hovering anxiously around the beaded curtains.

“What is it?” You sounded miffed.

“Your coat, Madam. I was instructed to leave it in your office.”

“Then why’d you make me take it off?”

But nonetheless, you beckoned for her to come in. She placed it on a hook in the corner, and you curled your finger, calling her forwards. A cigarette dangling from your bottom lip, you placed something in her soft palm.

She unfurled her fingers. “Do you know what that is?” She shook her head.

You took it back from her, flicked it open, and pushed down. Flame erupted from the lighter, illuminating a freckle on her face. Her eyes widened and she shuffled back.

“Don’t be afraid,” you said, snapping it shut. You gently but firmly took hold of her wrist, tugging it forward and pushing it back into her hand. You leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, and gestured to your cigarette.

She leaned over the armrest and, with a trembling thumb, pushed down as you’d shown her. The flame jumped a little too close to your face and you moved your head back, eyes widening, as she hurriedly snapped it shut.

She froze, waiting for a reprimand. But you didn’t say anything, just sucked on the cigarette and smiled at her, eyes looking at her without turning your face. You tipped your head back and let the smoke curl in the air.

“Hand-eye coordination needs some work,” you commented. She nodded.

“Yes, Madam.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alice-“

Your eyes widened, chest tightening.

“-son.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Allison,” she repeated timidly. You were shaking, she noticed, and took a quick step back.

Chewing on your lip, your eyes crawled across her face desperately. She looked…

Scared.

You could taste blood on your tongue. You released your bloodied lip from between your teeth, then soothed it with your tongue.

This girl is not Alice, you reminded yourself.

“You look tired,” you remarked, relaxing. “Have you been getting a good night’s sleep?”

“No,” she admitted silently. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “The mattresses are hard,” she said regretfully. “Not that I’m complaining, Madam,” she added hastily.

You chuckled. “No, please. Feel free to complain.”

She couldn’t tell if you were being sarcastic or not, as you patted the spot on the couch next to you. She clambered onto the cushions obediently.

You took another thoughtful drag, then blew out the smoke, cigarette poised in between your fingers as you leaned into Allison.

“Will I tell you something important?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“I used to have a daughter just like you.” You looked the girl up and down. “Same age, same eyes, same hair. Almost the same name.”

Allison knotted her little fingers together in her lap, looking up at you in wonder as you smoked some more.

“But she died.” Your tone was flat.

Allison recoiled. “Killed by enforcers,” you continued. You looked at the little girl, silently staring at her.

Then you sighed.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight, if you want. A welcome change from the mattresses.” You leaned forward and stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray that lay on the table, next to the long-wilted rose, and rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I’d have them changed if they weren’t the best we could afford in Zaun. Piltie bastards are probably sleeping well into the afternoon.”

She didn’t say anything.

“My bedroom is that door,” you told her, pointing to a door next to a bookshelf. “The office locks from the inside.”

“This is too generous, Madam,” Allison whispered.

You scoffed. “Not at all. You’ll have a job, you know.”

Allison looked up expectantly, and you stumbled around your words to find an excuse. “Uhh… clean up the office every now and then. And lock it once I go to bed.”

Allison smiled. “Alright.”

“And if I have anything else that needs tending to then expect the responsibility to fall to you, in the case that you’re able for such tasks.”

Allison nodded, bowing her head. “Yes, Madam.”

You flicked your hand at her. “Right, now… go away.”

Allison scuttled away into the front entrance of the brothel, cutting across and eventually disappearing into another narrow hallway. You followed after her, looking around. Beads, lanterns, curtains. Sickly sweet incense, mist swirling across the floor. A new client had just passed in through the doorway. She was looking behind herself nervously as she hurried in.

You silently watched her from the spot in the corner you’d chosen to lean on, obscured by the sheer fabric draped across the ceiling. She disappeared hand in hand with one of your men, and a tall, broad figure stepped into view.

Sevika.

You brushed the sheer drapes as you emerged, mist coiling around your feet as you walked.

“I thought we already spoke today,” you said steadily, expression even as you studied her face.

“What if I came here for your services?” She sounded amused.

“You don’t look like it. Hurry up, tell me what it is.”

Sevika squared her shoulders, gaze roving around the all-took familiar room. It eventually settled back on your face.

“He wants a meeting with you.”

“What?”

“You deaf?” She tilted her head. “He wants to meet with you in his office. Tomorrow night.”

“No.” Your response was fast.

You couldn’t face him. You’d rather never speak to him face to face again- your last in-person interaction, despite years ago, had been quite fond and you knew that whatever version of him you’d meet if you went would simply take on the image of the man you used to know.

Sevika frowned at you. “Are you okay?”

You were breathing hard. “No, I’m not. Get out.”

She stepped towards you. “[name].”

“What’s it about?” You hissed. “I’ll talk to you. Come on.” You stepped towards your office.

For a moment, you thought Sevika would protest, but she simply followed you silently after a quick moment of hesitation. You shut the door properly.

“Sit down.”

“I think I’ll stand.” There was a glint in her eye you didn’t miss.

“It wasn’t a request.”

Sighing and rolling her shoulders back, she assumed her usual position on the couch.

You didn’t sit down, choosing to remain standing. You crossed your arms, leg shaking. “What’s the issue?”

“It’s the men. They’re here for, er, other people.”

“What?” She couldn’t be any less clear- your pounding head was beginning to grow fuzzy.

“You’re harbouring more wanted men and women than you think, or than you’d like to admit. We need to round them up, and finish them off,” she said steadily. You frowned at her.

“I’m not giving up innocent people,” you spat.

“Believe me, [name],” her voice was strained with exasperation. “They are far from innocent. Just hand them over, and this whole ordeal can be over. No more men at your door, no more Silco breathing down your neck.”

You took a deep breath, rubbing your face, considering her words.

“And I have your word that whatever happens to them next will be deserved, be it good or bad?” You asked quietly.

She was surprisingly solemn in her response. “You have my word.”

“Fine. I’ll round them up, and drop them off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night, the Last Drop. Ten o’clock.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, whatever you say. But-“ you held up your hand. “I want a trade.”

She stared at you. “What?”

You scowled. “You think I’ll just give away my men for free? I want something in return.”

She suppressed a groan. “And what might that be? Money? Shimmer?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “I need collateral.”

She stared at you blankly. “Well, we don’t have collateral.”

“Something I can hold over his head,” you ploughed on. She laughed.

“You know I’m right here, right? It’s my boss you’re scheming against.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. Whatever, just- give me men in return.”

“Wh- men?”

“Employee for employee.” You’d fully regained your composure by now, and you adjusted the cuffs of your sleeves. “It’s only fair.”

She stared at you incredulously. “Well, who would you want?”

“I’ll take my pick when the time comes,” you hummed, waving her out. She scowled, flinging the door open. Hand still on the doorknob, she paused, twisting her head around.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” She snarled.

You grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

87 notes · View notes

tablebuddy · 11 months ago

Text

#table mate #tablemate #table mate2 #table buddy #overbed table #portable table #tilting table #folding table mate #table mate folding table #laptop table #tv table for eating

0 notes

megistusdiary · 10 months ago

Note

…I fell for it 😭 I’m so gullible 😔

just for you? i wrote you something because i saw your comment 😓😓

dom!yelan x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, slight exhibitionism, cunnilingus, deep throating, strap usage

yelan likes to keep you close to her at all times. her 'lucky charm' she's deemed you, perching you so pretty upon her lap every time she gambles.

she's a calculated risk taker, though with you around, she's got everything she needs.

sometimes, she even uses you to distract her opponents at the table. teasingly sliding her fingers up your thigh, fingertips sneaking beneath your shorts, grinning wickedly at how her tablemates start to shift around.

because she knows they're imagining it's them holding you. them with a pretty girl on their lap. them who wins the bet and gets the girl. but as long as yelan sits at the table, it's hopeless for them.

oh, too bad.

you don't think it's so bad, though. not when yelan spoils you right after a winning hand. not with how she strips you down, fucking you on the balcony of her hotel. oh, and she can't forget your pretty blue collar and leash to match!

she lays you down on her bed, her clothes disheveled, but at least she still has them on unlike you. how she grabs your thighs, spreading them wide to compliment her treat.

she spits right on your clit, using her tongue to drag the wetness across your pussy, indulging in your mewls and encouraging you to get louder. to let the entire damn hotel know who's fucking you.

she'll ease you through one orgasm and then another for good measure before she even considers having you prep her strap. the best prep, she always decides, is shoving it down your throat. she likes how your teary eyes gaze up at her from the floor, nose pressed to her pelvis as she coos at you, gripping your leash tighter to keep you in place like a good girl.

she likes how your glossy spit coats the strap when she pulls away, the soft gasps you make, and the louder one when she flips you on all-fours and fucks you like an animal.

you just can't help but think it's not so bad being her lucky charm.

#genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #fem reader #genshin wlw #yelan smut #yelan x reader #yelan x you #yelan #genshin yelan #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚#💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚

275 notes · View notes

gunnerfc · 11 months ago

Text

Did it Hurt? (When You Fell From Heaven) | Hayley Raso x Matildas!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend spends the entire day telling you terrible pickup lines after you jokingly said she was bad at flirting.

Warnings: bad pickup lines from google! 🥴

WC: 1.6K

AN: currently down bad for her (shoutout to all the tiktok edits I’ve watched 😩), so more fics for her are coming soon I fear 🥴😩

Waking up this morning, you were thankful you weren’t allowed to room with Hayley during camp. You had decided to tease your girlfriend about her ‘bad flirting’ last night during a small team bonding session. The mandatory curfew had saved you last night and you didn’t have to be questioned by the Real Madrid player.

That is until you were up and ready to head to the team breakfast. Hayley had been waiting for you, still in disbelief that you said she was bad at flirting. When you opened your hotel room, you were greeted by your girlfriend impatiently tapping her foot with her arms crossed.

“Good morning, babe,” you sang as you exited your room, hoping you could get Hayley to focus on anything other than your previous comments.

“Yeah, yeah good morning. What do you mean I “can’t flirt”? Hayley questioned as you walked side by side towards the banquet room at the end of the floor that the team was staying on.

“Umm..” you started, your voice higher than normal as you felt the glare from the winger. “I was just joking, baby. Don’t worry about it,” you laughed nervously right as you reached the opened doors. You could hear most of your teammates already eating and you hoped that maybe Ellie or Teagan would call Hayley over to their table and you wouldn’t have to explain further.

Ellie was your saving grace, shouting Hayley’s name the moment she spotted the shorter of the pair. You let a sigh of relief escape your lips as you fixed your plate and found a seat with your three Arsenal teammates.

“Rass still upset about your little comment,” Caitlin teased when you sat down. You sent the forward a glare, not bothering to respond as you started eating.

“What little comment,” Steph asked from her spot next to you. She had opted out of the bonding session last night in favor of calling Dean back in England.

“Y/n/n said Hayley was bad at flirting,” Kyra said with a mouth full of food. Her actions earned an eye roll from you and Steph and a laugh from Caitlin.

“Why’d you say that,” the older of your tablemates questioned, having zero context to the conversation that took place without her.

“I was joking… for the most part. I don’t think she’s bad at flirting now, I just think her pickup lines were a bit cheesy when we first started dating,” you answered before continuing. “She’s way better now, but no one let me finish my sentence last night before they started making jokes.”

Caitlin and Kyra took it upon themselves to repeat some of the jokes they made last night, giggling even more each time they said something. You shook your head at their words, knowing you would have to make it up to your girlfriend sooner rather than later.

While you were recounting the events from last night to Steph, Ellie was still teasing Hayley at their table. “I need to know what some of the things you say are,” the blonde laughed, ignoring the glare your girlfriend sent her way.

“I don’t know what Y/n considers “bad at flirting” so I don't know what to tell you,” the winger groaned, trying to rack her brain for what she could have said that made you think that.

“Well, why don’t you just make your flirting extra bad, that way Y/n can see that whatever you were saying before isn’t actually terrible,” the defender offered even though she changed your wording.

Hayley didn't respond but was considering what Ellie was saying. If you thought she was bad at flirting, then she’ll show you bad flirting. You split after breakfast, everyone heading back to their rooms to get their things for training. You didn’t see Hayley again until she got on the bus and took her usual seat next to you.

“Did it hurt?” your girlfriend's voice pulled you from your thoughts as she sat down. You sent her a confused look, having no idea what she could be talking about. “When you fell from heaven,” she continued, a teasing grin and a raised eyebrow gracing her features.

You took a deep sigh knowing you had started something you were going to regret. You just shook your head at Hayley’s words, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t say anything else for the rest of the bus trip to the field and you thought she had just made a one-off comment.

You were proven wrong as you sat in one of the cubbies in the locker room with Hayley to your left. As you were trying one of your boots, you felt Hayley lean closer until she was almost level with your ear. “Y’know even if there was no gravity on earth, I’d still fall for you,” the winger whispered in your ear, a bright smile on her face as she held back a laugh at your shocked face.

“My god, rass..” you groaned quietly, knowing she was saying the worst pickup lines she knew to drive you crazy.

Hayley is normally extremely focused on training, always wanting to do her best even if it wasn’t a game. Except today, she was on a mission to annoy you and so far, she was succeeding. Though you weren’t entirely annoyed, you found her cheesy pickup lines cute.

Tony had started training with some stretching and a few light jogs around the pitch to get everyone ready. During each activity you were told to do, Hayley was right beside you with something cheesy to say. Her bright, teasing smile never left her face.

You found a moment of hope that you wouldn’t have to hear anymore when Tony split everyone into small groups to play a few scrimmage matches. You weren’t in the same group as Hayley which for a moment meant no new cringe pickup line being sent your way. Until your two groups were facing each other and your side got a corner.

As you stood inside the box waiting for Steph to send the ball your way, you felt your girlfriend move to defend you. With your focus solely on the ball, Hayley took the opportunity to distract you. “I hope you know CPR because you’re taking my breath away,” the winger mumbled so only you could hear her just as Steph sent the ball into the box.

It was a perfect ball for you to head into the back of the net if you hadn’t been shocked by your girlfriend’s words. Hayley laughed as the ball was cleared by her side and patted your side as she ran past you. You shook your head to refocus and took off towards the other goal in defense.

Training ended soon after and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You were mentally preparing yourself for more lines the entire time you changed before heading back to the bus but they never came. You thought that Hayley might have decided she had said enough cheesy things to you to last awhile but you were once again mistaken when the winger took her seat next to you.

“Aren’t you tired, baby?” Hayley’s voice was laced with what seemed like genuine concern as she sat down.

You went to answer that you were feeling fine but she beat you to it. “You’ve been running through my head all day,” the teasing smile made its reappearance. You groaned with an eye roll at her words, knowing she wasn’t going to give up that easy.

The ride back to the hotel was spent with numerous teasing lines from your girlfriend that didn’t stop until you were back inside your separate rooms. You were rooming with Charli at this camp and she graciously offered you the shower first. You quickly took a shower so Charli could also have time to take one before team dinner.

You offered to wait for the blonde but she knew you and Hayley were inseparable and would be walking to dinner together and she didn’t want to hold you up. Just like this morning, Hayley was waiting outside your door though this time in comfortable clothes and with wet hair. You didn’t comment on the fact that she was wearing your Arsenal hoodie.

“Your hand looks lonely, baby. Can I hold it for you,” she giggled while holding her hand out for you to take. All you could do was laugh softly as you intertwined your hand with hers.

“Y’know… you never let me finish what I was saying last night,” you stated with a raised eyebrow as you two walked hand-in-hand down the hall.

Hayley didn’t respond verbally, but you saw the questioning look on her face. “I was saying that you were bad at flirting in the beginning, when you were too nervous to speak to me, and instead made up cheesy pickup lines. But now, you’re better because you aren’t nervous anymore,” you explained, pulling her to a stop in front of the doors.

The look on Hayley’s would have made you laugh normally but you found it adorable in the moment. Her eyes closed as her cheeks had a dark tint of red coat them. With your hands still intertwined, you pulled her smaller frame into yours, giving her a quick kiss on her lips.

“But even if you were absolutely terrible at flirting, I wouldn’t care. I’d still love you the same,” you whispered against her lips when you pulled away.

“I would’ve made up for it in other ways,” Hayley winked as she backed up, her words meaning something way more inappropriate than anything she’s said all day.

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words, your cheeks heating up this time. You let her pull you into the dining hall, bright smiles gracing both of your faces. She might have annoyed you a tad bit with everything she said today but you wouldn’t actually complain. You meant what you had told her, you would have loved her regardless if she was the best at flirting or not.

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #real madrid women x reader #hayley raso x reader #hayley raso

308 notes · View notes

luvrodite · 1 year ago

Text

NEW ROMANTICS JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ of course there's an attractive guy who sits a row ahead of you the one time you decide to swear off boys

You approach the beginning of the new semester with the same level of excitement reserved for doing the dishes. The only class you remotely look forward to is the literature elective you’ve chosen, a stark difference from the rest of the subjects you’ve got lined up, all incredibly dreary and tedious. The students in the arts faculty are, you find, significantly easier to tolerate than the finance bros, prep school daddy’s money boys that look right through you when you speak in class.

Spring’s approach is near and evident this morning as you walk across campus, a gentle warmth on the back of your neck and the slow budding of jasmine outside the buildings, sweet smelling and pretty.

You dream for a moment, as you walk into the lecture theatre, of a life in which at seventeen you had chosen this. Sitting in an old, wooden hall of a lecture theatre, students in colorful and kitschy clothing, it’s nothing like the sleekness of the professions faculty. It’s a welcome change. You sit by yourself, and a wistfulness stirs up in your chest when a trio of students sit a few rows ahead of you, chatting excitedly to each other about their classes and the break.

The reminder of your own break makes you cringe, the text messages on your phone radiating through the leather of your bag.

It hadn’t been your greatest moment, choosing to go out with a boy from last semester’s econ class, but you’d gone through with it if only to put yourself out there. It had felt momentous at first, if only because you didn’t feel quite so wallflower-like and shy for accepting it, but in the end it had been nothing less than abysmal. The message you’ve been screening weighs heavy on your conscience, pressing into your stomach in demands of being acknowledged.

You’d reply to it later, you vowed. But you were so swearing off dating.

You suspect that you are something of a joke to the universe, that there must be some entity somewhere that takes pleasure in your misery. The moment you make such a vow is when the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life crosses into your line of sight and you go still when he looks over at you momentarily, before sitting in the row in front of you.

You have about two seconds to gather yourself, when the lecture begins, and it is not nearly enough time to recover. You force yourself to pull your attention to the front of the room, and away from the dark haired man that sits only a few feet away, typing diligently on his laptop. It’s ridiculous, that you’re so overcome, and more so by a mere stranger.

But you can’t help the way your eyes slide over to him, several times, sneaking looks through your lashes at the curl of his hair and the lines of his jaw. The watch around his wrist glints as he types, large hands moving in fluid, controlled movements.

You sigh.

He walks into your class later that week, and you determinedly avoid eye contact, thankful that he sits at a different table even if you wish he’d sit at yours. You have very little doubt in your making a fool of yourself should he so much as look your way. No, you think. Better to keep your head down and try to enjoy the class.

It’s difficult when, going on a month later, you’ve only become more enamoured. Jason, you learn his name, is kind. It horrifies you. You might’ve stood a chance had he dismissed you completely, but you get assigned to a table together and he is attentive when you speak, so good at coaxing your opinions out of you that you don’t even realise you’ve spoken until your other tablemates reply. It unnerves you, when his mouth quirks up into a half grin, smiling at you across the desk like you’re sharing a secret, and you don’t quite know what to do with it.

The streak of white that ribbons through his black curls, the scar that bisects his brow and jaw–all of it intrigues you. But still…you hesitate. There is comfort in not disrupting the routine you have built, even if at times it gets to be a little lonely. Better to admire from a distance, even if sometimes it feels as though maybe he thinks well of you, too.

A few weeks into the semester, when the assignments have begun to loom ahead of you, and midterms grow closer, you walk out of the classroom and hear your name called out from behind you.

It startles you, and when you turn your stomach dips at the sight of Jason slinging his bag over his shoulder as he catches up to you.

“Hi,” he says, a little breathlessly, falling into step with you. You blink, offering him an unsure smile.

“Hi,” you reply. When the both of you pause, you raise your eyebrows, stepping to the side of the busy hallway. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes widen and his face breaks into an easy grin. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wanted to say, I thought you made some pretty good points, earlier in class. Are you doing anything, now?”

You blink at him, biting at the inside of your cheek. He waits patiently, and you’re struck by how pretty his eyes are, teal and bright, framed by thick, sooty lashes. A freckle below his eye moves with every blink.

“I was going to study,” you say, and it sounds a little embarrassing to say, when you look away and catch sight of the lawns out of a window, sun soaked and green with spring’s approach.

Jason doesn’t seem to mind it so much, only nodding his head when you look back at him. He looks a little unsure, then, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Do you mind if I come with?” he asks and you blink again. He offers up a rueful sort of grin. “I’m writing my essay on that Keats poem you kind of mentioned in your presentation, so I wanted to pick your brain a bit on that.”

“Oh,” you say, a little stunned. The aforementioned presentation had been nerve-wracking, and you’d felt the weight of his stare throughout what felt like the longest five minutes of your life. It almost made you long for the disinterested stares of the finance students. Almost. “Yeah, no, sure.”

“Cool,” he dips his head. And then he lifts it, looking a little sheepish. “Do you mind if we make a stop to get coffee, though? I’m kind of dying.”

You can’t help a grin at the way he admits that, letting out a small laugh. “That’s fine. I need to eat something, anyway.”

The campus cafe isn’t too busy when you enter, and you’re grateful for the lack of a rush. Jason leans down to peer at the desserts on display, and looks at you.

“What are you getting?” he asks, and you shrug, telling him your usual coffee order. He nods absentmindedly, muttering a “That sounds good.”

He steps up to the counter, and lingers by your side while you give your order. You try your very hardest not to pay him too much attention, but the brush of his jacket against your arm makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you stutter over your order. When it comes for you to pay, you’re taken aback when a hand moves in front of your own and a card that is very much not yours taps against the machine.

You look up at Jason, baffled. “Hey! You didn’t have to do that.”

He looks dead serious and unabashedly unapologetic as he steers you off to the side to wait for your order and explains, “I’m crashing your study session, it’s only fair.”

“I said it was fine, didn’t I?” you bluster, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“You can get it next time, if you want,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “But my dad would never let me live it down if I asked for your help and then made you pay for your own coffee.”

Your indignation pauses at the mention of his dad, a little charmed by the serious wide-eyed look he gives you, shaking his head at the thought.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, then, even warmer in the face by the implication that there’ll be a next time. But it feels like the right thing to say when he nods, a slow, pleased smile blooming across his face.

The both of you find a table in a quiet corner in the library after, sunlight spilling in through the window to warm your fingers as you pull out your planner, nodding as Jason speaks in low tones about the essay topic he’d chosen for his midterm. He sits across the table from you, long legs stretched out next to yours and you’re careful as you stretch your own under the tabletop.

For all he’d worried about crashing your study session, Jason does not speak much except to ask your thoughts on a line or two, spinning his laptop around so you can read over the lines he’s written. He’s a good writer, succinct and poetic without it reading too flowery–for an academic paper. You bite back the urge to ask him if you can read the whole paper when he’s done. It doesn’t feel so much like you’re helping him, than studying in his company. It feels a little surreal, and utterly comfortable at the same time. The silence is content, and settles over the both of you like a light cloak.

By the time you call it quits, it is late afternoon, and you feel a little drowsy. You part ways at your bus stop, climbing onto your bus after he insists on walking you there. He waits there as you board, and you offer a hand up in goodbye as the bus pulls away, pocketing the sight of his own raised in return.

The next week finds the both of you at the same table, and so does the week after that.

BLANK BLOGS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

reader in this au u r so beloved to me shy and a little lonely pouring one out for the wallflowers everywhere u r so loved (reader in my other series is probably more outgoing so i wanted to switch it up but i think she'd be friends with reader in this au)

#jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au

415 notes · View notes