#to their father and his ways and His company
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King's Gambit
Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader
Summary: You go to a Ministry gala with your family, meeting and dancing with Mattheo Riddle, who is just looking to cause some trouble,
WC: 4.5k
CW: Potters Live Au, reader is a bit naive, uhm... a bit of an over protective family moment. Possible part one idk yet
The grandeur of the Ministry of Magic was on full display as you crossed the threshold of the ballroom with your parents. You were instantly struck by the magic of the scene before you. The high, enchanted ceiling shimmered with starlight, mimicking the night sky, while hundreds of floating candles illuminated the room with a warm, golden glow. The walls were draped with deep emerald and gold silks that shimmered as if enchanted, and charmed violins played a soft, elegant waltz in the background.
Couples were already spinning gracefully on the polished marble floor, their robes a dazzling array of colors. The scent of fresh roses and honeyed champagne filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and laughter. It was all so intoxicatingly beautiful, the kind of scene you had only read about in fairytales.
James muttered beside you, his voice low as he leaned towards Lily’s ears. “All this extravagance, and they still haven’t managed to give half my team a decent raise in years.”
Lily gave him a pointed look, tugging slightly at his lapel to straighten it. “James,” She huffed softly, though there was no real bite to her tone. “Play nice tonight. It’s not the time to start a crusade. I did not marry a martyr.”
Her words earned a small chuckle- even a smile from him, and he shook his head with a quiet hum. “I'll play nice.” His hazel eyes softening as they met hers.
“It's all I ask.” Lily smiled with a teasing lift of her brow. For a moment, the two of them seemed lost in their own world, the years of love and trust between them clear in their shared gaze.
But the moment was short-lived. A procession of wizards and witches began to approach, eager to greet the famous Potters- the main reason your father hated these events. Lily straightened and fixed a pleasant smile on her face, while James sighed and reluctantly did the same, running his thumb along the small of your mother’s back.
You stood quietly beside your parents, watching as they navigated the growing crowd of well-dressed witches and wizards with a practiced ease you could only admire. As handshakes and polite greetings were exchanged, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander to them.
Your parents were obsessed with one another- there was no other word for it. The way your father leaned ever so slightly toward your mother, as if her presence grounded him in a room he clearly loathed. The way your mother’s smile lit up her face, genuine and kind, even as she endured endless small talk with people you both knew she’d rather avoid. It was more than impressive; it was love, the kind of love you’d always dreamed of.
You stole a glance at Harry beside you. He rolled his eyes when yet another Ministry official complimented your family, calling your parents “an inspiration to the wizarding world.”
“An inspiration, huh?” Harry muttered under his breath, leaning toward you. “Guess that makes us company.”
You bit back a laugh, your lips twitching as you murmured back, “Company? Speak for yourself, I'm plenty charming.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that so? I think you're far too much of a hopeless romantic for that. Please note the hopeless.”
Your mouth opened in mock offense, but before you could retort, your mother’s voice cut in smoothly.
“Children, behave,” Her tone was warm but firm as her eyes flicked between the two of you. She didn’t miss the smirk on James’s face, though. He always loved your playful banter, even if Lily pretended not to. As if you four hadn't come up with fifteen new flavors of insults for the obsequious little bootlickers on the ride over.
“Yes, Mum,” You and Harry chimed in unison, barely suppressing your laughter.
Despite the formality of the evening, moments like these reminded you that no matter how many people admired your family from afar, it was the love and humor between you all that made it so special. It wasn’t just about being “The Potters,” the golden family everyone seemed to look up to. It was about being your family- perfectly imperfect, brimming with laughter and love.
Still, as the line of greetings seemed endless, you couldn’t help but steal glances around the room, your attention drifting.
That’s when you saw him.
He was standing near the edge of the ballroom, casually leaning against one of the ornately carved marble pillars. His dark curls framed his sharp features, and the flickering candlelight seemed to make his stormy brown eyes gleam. Unlike most of the wizards here, dressed in stiff, perfectly pressed robes, he had an air of effortless rebellion. His tie was slightly loosened- okay, no it was definally falling off-, his robes were tailored but not overly formal, as if to say he couldn’t be bothered to fully conform to the expectations of the evening.
You couldn’t help but stare. He was impossible to ignore. Taller than you, but not too tall- just enough to crane your neck but not enough to make you ache from it- hair perfectly imperfect, as if he had charmed it that way, to capture the fractures of light that defined it’s mockery of shape. He looked entirely out of place among the glittering gowns and polished smiles, and yet, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who owned the room. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as though he knew exactly the effect he had on the people around him.
Merlin, a smirk to match his eyes, eyes to match his hair, hair to frame his neck- like his features were crafted just for him. Carved from marble and stone with crackles of imperfections you'd have to dream up later. Even the crooked tug of his lips seemed intentional to tug at everyone of your poor heart strings.
There was a brilliant symphony in your chest that resonated in your stomach.
He was speaking to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, who stood rigid and composed as always, their platinum blonde hair shining in the golden light. Draco Malfoy stood beside them, his usual smug expression in place, though his posture was noticeably more subdued in the presence of the dark-haired boy.
“Who’s that?” You asked quietly, leaning toward Harry. Doing your best not to betray your throbbing heart.
He followed your gaze, and his expression soured immediately. “Mattheo Riddle,” He muttered. “Lucius’s nephew. Have you not seen him at school?”
Your stomach turned at the name. Riddle. As in that Riddle. You should have looked away right then, should have reminded yourself who he was and what his family represented. But something about him kept your gaze locked. He turned his head slightly, and for one brief, heart-stopping moment, his eyes met yours.
It was as if he could see straight through you. His smirk deepened, as though he were amused by the fact that you’d been caught staring. Slowly, deliberately, he inclined his head in a faint, mocking gesture of acknowledgment.
You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on a nearby couple twirling across the dance floor. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes lingering on you, nor the strange pull in your chest that urged you to look back.
“Don’t even think about it,” Harry said sharply, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “He’s trouble. Worse than Malfoy. Worse than Sirius.”
You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Good. Because if Mum and Dad catch you looking at him, they’ll lose their minds. And so will I.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond, your thoughts already wandering back to the boy across the room. For all of Harry’s warnings, you couldn’t deny the strange pull you felt. There was something about Mattheo Riddle that demanded attention, something dangerous and intriguing- and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run away from it or dive straight in.
No, you knew what you wanted.
But you knew that you shouldnt.
Your family exchanged more greetings, handshakes, and forced smiles, but you were distant, your thoughts circling the boy whose smirk had left an imprint on your mind. It wasn’t just his confidence or his looks- it was the way he seemed to take up space without effort, as though the world around him was merely a stage set for his amusement. Oh, and is he really as bad as your uncle?
Scratch that, considering their shared blood you didn't want to know.
Then, as if sensing your turmoil, he moved. Oh, you had been staring. Slowly, deliberately, Mattheo stepped away from the Malfoys, his movements unhurried but purposeful, like a predator approaching its prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, though whether it was fear or anticipation, you couldn’t quite tell.
"He's walking over here," Harry muttered beside you, his tone dripping with irritation.
"Relax," You whispered, though your heart was racing.
"Relax? With him here? I don't think so."
But you barely heard your brother. Your attention was fixed on Mattheo as he stopped just a few paces away, his brown eyes meeting yours again, this time with a look of pure challenge.
"Potter," He said smoothly, nodding first to Harry before letting his gaze slide to you. His voice was low, rich, and laced with just enough amusement to make your cheeks warm. "I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been standing here with..." He paused and took an exaggerated swoop of his eyes across the crowd. The one slowly growing to stare at him. And you. "... no one taking you to the dance floor. It's a right shame, really."
Harry bristled beside you, his jaw tightening. "Maybe because we’ve been busy avoiding people like you."
Mattheo’s smirk widened as if Harry’s hostility only entertained him. Ignoring your brother, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Care to join me for a dance? It seems a waste for someone like you to stay off to the side all night.”
Your heart leapt into your throat. You could feel Harry tense beside you, his protest hanging in the air, unspoken but palpable. You knew what this was- a game. A deliberate move to provoke Harry, your parents, and everyone else in the room who cared about the politics of family names and allegiances.
But as you looked at Mattheo, you couldn’t deny the spark of temptation. The air around him seemed to hum with electricity, pulling you in despite the warning bells ringing loudly in your mind.
The implications were crystal clear: a single dance with him would be enough to set tongues wagging for weeks. It would stir unrest, fuel speculation, and undoubtedly ruffle the feathers of both your family and the Malfoys. James Potter’s daughter, sharing a dance with Voldemort’s son? It was practically a scandal waiting to happen.
For a fleeting moment, you thought about the optics, about how this would play into the political games you despised so much. Mattheo, no doubt, was using you to create chaos, and you would be giving him exactly what he wanted if you accepted.
But then… you caught his eyes again, stormy and confident, daring you to say yes. They held none of the coldness or cruelty you expected- just a flicker of intrigue and something else you couldn’t quite place but you were dying to know. There was an electricity to his presence that left you breathless, like he was daring you to step into the unknown with him.
Merlin, those eyes. The longer you stared, the more you realized you cared far less about what people thought or the scandal it might cause. Politics were meaningless to you, but he- he felt dangerous, exhilarating, and impossible to ignore. What was one more Potter scandal? Merlin bless your parents.
“I-” You began, your voice catching slightly.
Harry tensed beside you, muttering low, “Don’t you dare-”
You turned your head, offering your brother a small, apologetic smile before slipping your hand into Mattheo’s. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you swore you caught the flicker of something softer in his smirk- oh- satisfaction, yes.
“Don’t wait up, Harry,” You muttered lightly, though your heart was hammering in your chest.
Mattheo’s smirk grew as he led you onto the dance floor, every movement deliberate and self-assured. The whispers started almost immediately, a ripple of murmurs spreading across the room as heads turned to watch. You didn’t care. All you could focus on was the warmth of his hand in yours and the way his gaze seemed to darken with every step.
“Brave choice,” Mattheo murmured as he pulled you into position, his voice low and velvety. “Or foolish. I haven’t decided yet.”
You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “Bravery and foolishness are often the same thing, don’t you think?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement as he placed a hand lightly on your waist, drawing you closer. “Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone’s ever called you foolish before.”
“Maybe they should,” You quipped, the playful edge to your voice masking the way your heart raced.
He chuckled softly, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Not tonight. Tonight, you’re the most captivating person in this room.”
You blinked away the sudden shock that rocked your shoulders. Oh, he's good. “You have a quick tongue. Familiar with making woman's hearts flutter or is that a side effect, Riddle?”
Mattheo's smirk deepened, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing close enough to your ear that his breath tickled your skin. “I’d say it’s a bit of both, Potter,” he murmured, his voice rich and low, laced with amusement. “Though I’m surprised you’d think I need to try.”
Your cheeks burned, and you hated how easily he could make your heart race with just a few words. You arched an eyebrow, determined not to let him see the effect he had on you. “Confident, aren’t you? That arrogance must be exhausting.”
“Not at all,” He said smoothly, twirling you expertly as the music swelled around you. “Confidence comes naturally when you’re good at what you do.”
“And what exactly are you good at, Riddle? Charming unsuspecting girls into regrettable decisions?” Your words were sharp, but your tone was teasing, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you as his eyes flickered with something darker.
He grinned, his stormy gaze locking onto yours as he pulled you just a fraction closer. “Regrettable? Now, that’s a strong word. But tell me, do you regret this, Potter?”
You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat as he dipped you suddenly, the world tilting for a brief, breathless moment. When he pulled you back up, his face was so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, could feel the warmth radiating off him. He didn’t look away, didn’t falter, as if daring you to answer honestly.
Your lips twitched into a small smile, and you tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a boldness you didn’t quite feel. “I’ll let you know when the dance is over.”
Mattheo laughed softly, a low, rich sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He guided you into another turn, his movements as smooth and calculated as his words. When you settled back into the rhythm of the dance, he let his gaze drop briefly to the necklace resting against your collarbone.
“Moonstone,” he remarked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. “That’s what Muggles call it, isn’t it?”
You blinked, slightly surprised by his observation. His eyes flicked back to yours, glinting with a quiet amusement as though he enjoyed catching you off guard.
“It is,” you replied, your fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly. “Why? You have a sudden interest in jewelry, Riddle?”
He tilted his head, his smirk returning as if he knew something you didn’t. “Not sudden, no,” he said, his voice smooth. “But moonstone is… interesting. It’s traditionally given as a gift for younger girls, is it not? Or perhaps you’re just sentimental?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “I got it when I was younger,” you admitted, lifting your chin slightly. “My mum gave it to me. And what about you, Riddle? How does someone like you know so much about jewelry?”
Mattheo’s smirk deepened, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he leaned in. “Let’s just say I have a talent for noticing things most people overlook,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to the pendant once more before flicking back to yours. “Though I’ll admit, it looks best on you tonight of all nights. I am perhaps bias.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Instead, you raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “And here I thought you only noticed trouble, Riddle. Didn’t expect you to have an eye for fashion.”
He laughed again, the sound light and unrestrained. “I’m full of surprises, Potter,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly. “Though if you’d like, I can stop noticing. I doubt anyone else would’ve caught the moonstone detail.”
You shook your head, amused despite yourself. “You’re an enigma, Riddle.”
“As I've been told.” He leaned closer with a wink that sent a ripple of hissing through the onlookers you had forgotten about.
The music drew to a close, and Mattheo slowed the dance, his hand still resting lightly at your waist. The smirk on his lips never wavered as he stepped back, his stormy gaze holding yours for a moment that felt much too long. Then, without releasing your hand, he turned toward where your parents stood, his expression shifting into one of perfect, calculated poise.
Your heart sank as realization dawned. “Mattheo,” you hissed under your breath, but he merely cast you a sideways glance, one brow quirked in amused defiance.
He led you toward James and Lily with deliberate grace, his every movement purposeful and commanding. The whispers in the room seemed to grow louder as the crowd parted for him, all eyes fixed on the Riddle boy escorting the daughter of James Potter across the polished ballroom floor.
James, who had been watching the dance unfold with growing tension, straightened immediately as the two of you approached. His hazel eyes flicked to where Mattheo’s hand still clasped yours, his expression darkening. Lily, by his side, wore a polite but cautious smile, though her gaze was sharp and assessing.
When you reached them, Mattheo finally released your hand but bowed his head slightly in a gesture of formal respect. “Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he began smoothly, his voice rich and confident, “thank you for the honor of allowing me a dance with your daughter. It was, without question, the highlight of my evening.”
James’s jaw tightened visibly, his posture stiffening, but before he could respond, Mattheo turned his attention to you. His eyes softened just enough to make your breath hitch as he lifted your hand once more, his grip gentle but firm.
“And to you,” he said, his tone dropping to something more intimate, “thank you for indulging me, Miss Potter. You were exquisite.”
Before you could react, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, lingering just long enough to send your heart into a wild frenzy. The warmth of his lips against your skin and the way his eyes held yours as he straightened left you speechless- and painfully aware of the sharp intake of breath from your father.
Mattheo’s smirk returned, subtle but unmistakable, as he inclined his head once more toward James and Lily. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said smoothly, stepping back with practiced elegance. “I look forward to seeing you all again.”
With that, he turned and strode away, his movements calm and self-assured as if he hadn’t just ignited a firestorm of whispers and tension. The room seemed to buzz in his wake, but you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart.
James cleared his throat, breaking the silence, though his tone came sharp and restrained. “Care to explain what that was?” His hazel eyes flicked to you, his voice low enough not to attract attention, but every word carried the weight of his disapproval.
You hesitated, glancing at Lily, hoping for support. She was watching you carefully, her expression softer than James’s but no less concerned. Harry, on the other hand, stood beside her with his arms crossed, his face set in a scowl that mirrored your father’s.
“It was just a dance,” You placated, trying to sound calm, though your pulse was still racing. “He asked. I said yes. That’s it. If I had said no, you know what the tabloids would say by morning.”
James’s jaw clenched visibly, his hazel eyes darkening as he processed your words. “You think this is about the tabloids?” He hissed, his voice low but taut with tension. “I don’t give a damn about the papers. This is about him. About what he represents and the fact that he knows exactly how to manipulate situations like this.”
“He’s right,” Harry interjected sharply, his arms still crossed as he glared at you. “Mattheo Riddle doesn’t do anything without a reason. You think he asked you to dance just because he wanted to? He’s playing a game, and you’re letting him win.”
You squared your shoulders, refusing to shrink under their disapproval. “I didn’t let him win anything. I made a choice, and I handled myself perfectly fine. Do you have any idea what it would’ve looked like if I turned him down in front of everyone? Half the room would’ve spun it as a Potter snubbing a diplomatic gesture, and the other half would’ve accused us of holding old grudges.”
James’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Lily placed a calming hand on his arm before he could respond. “She’s not wrong,” she said softly, though her expression remained serious. “If she’d refused, it would’ve caused a scene, and not the kind we could easily recover from. But that doesn’t mean we can ignore what just happened.”
You turned to her, your voice quieter now. “I know who he is. I know what his name means. But for Merlin’s sake, it was a dance. That’s all.”
James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to rein in his frustration. “It wasn’t just a dance,” he muttered, his gaze flicking toward where Mattheo had disappeared into the crowd. “Not to him. Not to anyone who saw it.”
Lily’s eyes softened as she looked at you. “Your father’s right. Whatever Mattheo’s intentions are, they’re not simple. He’s too calculated for that.”
“Or maybe,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended, “he’s not as much of a villain as everyone thinks he is.”
Harry let out a derisive snort. “You can’t be serious.”
You turned to him, your jaw tightening. “I didn’t say he was a saint, Harry. I’m just saying maybe he’s not the monster you’re all making him out to be.”
James stepped closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You don’t know him, and you don’t know what he’s capable of. People like him don’t do anything without a reason, and whatever his reason was tonight, it wasn’t good.”
The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of doubt. But then you remembered the way Mattheo had looked at you- not with malice or cruelty, but with a curiosity that had felt startlingly genuine.
“I can handle it,” you said firmly, meeting your father’s gaze. “I’m not a child, Dad. I know what I’m doing.”
James stared at you for a long moment, his expression a mix of frustration, concern.
Then, James’s hard gaze softened slightly as your words hung in the air, the tension between you crackling like static. He ran a hand through his unruly hair again, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil. For all his frustration, for all his protective instincts screaming at him to put a stop to whatever this was, he couldn’t stay angry with you for long. He never could.
He let out a slow, resigned breath, the stern lines of his face easing just enough to remind you of the man who had always been your safe haven. “You’re not a child,” he admitted finally, though the words seemed to cost him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you. It’s my job, whether you like it or not.”
You blinked, surprised by the shift in his tone. His hazel eyes met yours, and though they still carried a flicker of disapproval, there was something else there now- something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re my daughter,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m always going to want to protect you. Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”
Lily stepped in then, her hand resting gently on James’s arm as she gave you a small, understanding smile. “Your father’s trying, love,” she said softly. “He just… doesn’t want to see you hurt. Neither of us do.”
Harry, however, was less inclined to soften. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his arms still crossed tightly. “And when it backfires, don’t come running to me.”
Lily shot him a sharp look, her tone firm but even. “Harry.”
He huffed but said nothing more, his scowl firmly in place.
James exhaled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look,” he said, his tone gentler now, “if you’re so sure you can handle this… fine. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I swear to Merlin, if he so much as looks at you again- ”
“Dad,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “I can handle it. I promise.”
He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes searching yours for something- reassurance, perhaps, or a sign that he could need to fight this battle for you- like he always had. Eventually, he nodded, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “But just… be careful. Please.”
Lily squeezed his arm, her own expression a mix of concern and quiet pride. “We trust you,” she said softly, her green eyes meeting yours. “Just… don’t give us a reason to regret it, okay?”
You nodded, the tension in your chest easing slightly at her words. “I won’t.”
James muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like we’ll see, but he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he stepped back, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he gave you a weary but affectionate look.
“Go on,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctant humor. “Enjoy the rest of the ball. Just… maybe avoid any more dances with Riddle.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the sound lightening the mood just enough to ease some of the lingering tension. “I’ll do my best.”
As you turned to rejoin the crowd, you felt a surge of gratitude for your family- for their love, their concern, and even their overprotectiveness. They didn’t always make things easy, but you knew their hearts were always in the right place.
Even if Harry could be a prat about it.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#james potter#Lily Evans#potter!reader#James daughter#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle#mattheo fluff#mattheo imagine#Mattheo riddle x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfic
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You're not like other people [Part 2]
Looks like people wanted part 2 and I'm all here for it >:>
Part 2 of you're not like other people (Shadow x Reader)
Pairings -> Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader
Warnings -> Maybe a little bit of violence, Panic attack, Family issues
Note -> Not everything is perfect until your abusive family finds you but fear not! Shadow is there to protect you like he promised
Genre -> Angst to Fluff
Shadow the Hedgehog
It has now been a couple of weeks since Shadow has been found by you, Shadow was a huge help around the house as he helped do the dishes with you
Cleaned with you
Made the beds with you
Swept the floors with you
He also learned on how to do the washing by himself
You loved his company and he loved yours
You and him were going so well together as his trust for you start to rise as he started to like you more and more as you showed your sweetness towards him which you'd did the moment you found him on the ground in the grass field
Shadow was loving it here, the peace and quiet and that nothing was going to bother you two
But Shadow still has yet to know your past and the truth about you, your past was terrible and you never wanted to live how you lived when you were younger
Your abusive family hated you with their guts as they always loved to call you the 'mistake'
The 'mistake' that caused the family to go down hill the moment you were born, but you weren't spoiled like your siblings nor loud like them
They just hated you because you were sensitive and quiet and that you didn't do anything to stick up for yourself
So that gave them a reason to cause your childhood a living hell
By the time you turned 20, you ran away. You did some jobs along the way until you saved up enough money to live on your own and have a little peace for yourself without anyone hurting you or causing chaos
You loved it, you loved not having to get hit or hurt for making the smallest mistakes
Then you found Shadow and he helped you ever since he started to like you, he helped so much you always had free time to do something for yourself
Shadow was there to help and protect you like a delicate flower, a flower that is worth protecting and saving for
Today was a lovely day as you went out to pick some flowers that was near your house, Shadow was just in the house doing some last minutes chores to finish once you get back
You were out for a while and that caused Shadow fur to stick up, it always did that when danger was around. He immediately went out to go looking for, you said you were just going to pick up some flower to decorate your house a bit.
But you were out for nearly 2 hours. He began to shout for you by screaming out your name, the flower field was not far from here so he used chaos control to teleport there to only find you and a bunch of random people.
He didn't know that they were your abusive family trying to get you back, he saw a man stomping up to you as he slapped you across the face.
Shadow snarled as his quills stuck up, he then used one last teleportation to teleport right in front of you causing the woman to scream who was your mother
"Ew! What is that ugly looking creature!?" You huffed as you rolled your eyes
Shadow's ears flicked at that but it didn't bother him one bit as he is used to name calling
His ear was pinned flat as he snarled at the people "I am Shadow, the ultimate life-form. If I see you hurting Y/N again, you will regret it" Shadow huffed as he growled
Your mum was terrified as your father was in shock, your mother started to pull your father away as he started to shout at you
"You will regret leaving this family, DO YOU HEAR! If it wasn't for that thing, I wouldn't of dragged you myself! You were a mistake! A MISTAKE!" Your father shouted once more
You were trying so hard to not cry, not in front of Shadow who was now worried for you as he clung his hand to your pants, his ears were still flat on his head to show that he was worried for you
The wind blew, moving the flowers around you and causing your hair to swoosh behind you as your eyes teared up a little
"Let's go back home-" You said as you plastered a fake smile on your face
Shadow nodded as he held your hand in yours as you both walked back to the house, you couldn't believe that your family found you after all this time they wanted you back
For what?
To torture you..
To Bully you...
To make you actually think you're a mistake that you shouldn't live anymore from all the suffering you've been though...
Shadow noticed your mood chance as he tugged on your hand causing you to come back to reality from thinking too much
You looked in front of you as you noticed that you are both back home, you got your keys and opened the door as you and Shadow went inside
Shadow was still worried about you after what just happened to you, he could see the slap mark becoming visible as he went to go grab a wet cloth to sooth the slap on your cheek
While Shadow was gone to grab you something, you broke down as you slide down on the wall as your curled up into a ball sobbing
This wasn't the first time this has happened, you've had many panic attacks when you were living with your family, they didn't care to help you as they just pretended your weren't there
No-one cared to help you
No-one...
You were losing it, you thought you were free and unchained but today was the worst of all
They found you..
You didn't actually think they were going back to find you again..
Were they going to hunt you down even if it meant hurting you..
Were you just a toy to them?
All these thoughts covered your mind as you couldn't think anymore, your crying became more and more louder, your sobs reached Shadow as his ear flicked at the helpless sound from you
He dropped everything and ran back to you to see you in a bad state as you couldn't stop
Shadow didn't really know what to do, but he remembered that Maria said something about what to do
'Stay with them until they know that you are there for them, holding their hand and comfort them until they calm down'
Those were the words he remembered so he slowly and carefully sat down next to you causing to you relax a bit
He held his hand out for you grab, which of course you did. He could feel you shaking just from holding your hand, your breathing became shaken and short
He started to panic
'Take some breathing lessons with them, Breath in and out'
Shadow knew what he had to do, he brushed some hair out of your way as he cradled your face in his hands, his hands were warm and soft
Your eyes were blurred by the tears, you sniffed as you looked at Shadow
"I'm here for you.. Try to take deep breaths in and out with me. Can you do that?" He spoke in a soft tone that caused you to calm down a bit
You nodded, your face was still cradled as you followed his instructions as you breathed in and out with him until you fully relaxed
"There you go.."
"Sorry I didn't mean to crash out like that" You apologized
Shadow tilted his head in confusion on why you were apologizing to him about having a panic attack
He shook his head as he gave you a gentle smile, lifting your head up a bit
"You don't need to be sorry, It happens" Shadow spoke as he brushed his thumbs over your cheek to get rid of some tears that fell down
You sniffed as you wiped away your tears, your face looked red and puffy from all the crying you just did
"How about we go somewhere more comfy, I bet the floor is very uncomfortable right now"
You gave out a little laugh as you stood up from the floor, you and Shadow walked to your bedroom as you both laid down on the bed
Shadow had your head on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thumping. He also didn't mind you playing and touching his chest fur, but you couldn't resist it was too fluffy
You were getting quite sleepy from all the chaos that happened today and maybe from Shadow stroking your hair softly with his fingers
After a couple more minutes you fell right asleep, Shadow looked down to see your peaceful sleeping face as he gave a smile, leaning down to give you a little kiss on the forehead
"Rest well my love, I will protect you forever"
Shadow then fell asleep a few minutes after
AHHHHHHH
-A<3
#sonic 3 movie#sonic 3#sonic fanfiction#sonic movie#sonic fandom#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog x reader#shadow x reader#shadow the ultimate lifeform#shadow the hedgehog
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On the Cliff,
part 1
part 2
Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader
Word Count: 8.7k+
a/n: Ive tried in this fic, to write in switching POV (reader and Female Lead), and also tried writing where i left the readers name ambiguous.
The neon lights outside the bar flickered weakly, casting a dim glow on the crowded streets of Seoul. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the dull hum of conversation, broken only by the occasional burst of laughter. Park Jiwon sat at the far end of the bar, nursing her third drink of the night, the ice in her glass long since melted.
The neon lights outside the bar flickered weakly, casting a dim glow on the crowded streets of Seoul. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the dull hum of conversation, broken only by the occasional burst of laughter. Park Jiwon sat at the far end of the bar, nursing her third drink of the night, the ice in her glass long since melted.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the rim of the glass, her mind swimming with thoughts she couldn't drown, no matter how much alcohol she consumed. The past few months had been hell—her job hanging by a thread, her father breathing down her neck, and now... this.
She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingertips to her temple. Work was a battlefield she could never seem to win. Her boss barely acknowledged her, dumping last-minute projects on her desk with impossible deadlines, and the younger editors—brighter, hungrier—were all too eager to step over her. She was starting to wonder if she’d ever escape the suffocating mediocrity that her life had become.
But even that stress paled in comparison to her father.
Park Sangho. CEO. Tyrant. The man who controlled her life with an iron grip. She could still hear his voice from earlier that evening, sharp and cutting like a blade.
“I won’t let you embarrass me any further, Jiwon. You will marry Director Kang, and that’s final.”
His words had echoed in her ears long after the call ended, filling her with a sickening sense of dread. She had tried—God, she had tried—to reason with him, to tell him that she wasn’t some bargaining chip he could use to salvage his failing company. But his fury had been swift, the bruises on her arm hidden beneath the sleeve of her blouse a testament to that.
Jiwon swallowed the lump in her throat and downed the rest of her drink in one go, wincing as the alcohol burned down her throat. What was she supposed to do? She had no place to go, no one to turn to. If she went back home, her father would push the marriage harder. If she stayed out, she'd only delay the inevitable.
Her reflection in the bar’s mirror caught her attention—dark eyes clouded with exhaustion, lips pressed into a thin line, a faint bruise peeking from beneath her makeup near her cheekbone. She looked exactly how she felt. Tired. Trapped. Alone.
“Sir, another please” she requested, handing her glass toward the bartender, who gave her a wary glance before refilling it.
"Hey, pretty thing," a voice slurred beside her, cutting through the noise.
Jiwon stiffened, her eyes widening as she glanced up. A man—older, disheveled, and smelling strongly of alcohol—was leaning too close, his smile wide and unpleasant. His hand rested on the bar, creeping toward hers inch by inch.
"You've been sitting here all alone," he said smoothly, his gaze lingering too long. "Need some company?"
Jiwon’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. Her mind scrambled for a polite way out, something that wouldn’t make him angry. She forced a small, uncertain smile. "Oh... um, no, thank you. I-I’m waiting for someone," she said softly, her voice wavering.
The man chuckled, clearly not believing her. "Come on now, don’t be shy. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be drinking alone. Let me take care of you."
Jiwon’s heart began to race. She tried to inch away, but the barstool’s narrow space made it impossible. "T-That’s really kind of you, but I’m fine, really..."
Her voice trailed off when he suddenly reached for her wrist, his fingers curling around it too tightly. Panic swelled in her chest, and she instinctively tried to tug free, but he didn’t let go.
"Don't be like that, sweetheart," he said, his grin widening.
Jiwon’s breath hitched. Her head spun with fear, and for a moment, she froze, unsure of what to do. Was she overreacting? Maybe he didn’t mean any harm... right?
"I-I really need to go..." she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes darting around the room for help.
And then, a voice—cold and sharp—cut through the haze of her growing panic.
"She’s with me.”
—
This week has been exhausting. Your grandmother’s constant nagging about finding a wife, the relentless investors pressing you for an heir, and the vultures circling your company, waiting for any sign of weakness to strike. It was a never-ending cycle of boardroom battles and power plays, leaving you drained and disillusioned.
Then there were the usual sleazy old guys—insignificant men trying to weasel their way into your good graces, hoping you’d throw them a lifeline. It was pathetic, really, the way they groveled, desperate for an investment they didn’t deserve.
Tonight, you needed an escape. Something to drown out the noise.
The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic thump of music. You didn’t come here often, but it was one of the few places where no one cared who you were. Just another man in a suit looking for a drink. Maybe a distraction. Maybe a hookup.
As you leaned against the bar, nursing your whiskey, your eyes drifted across the room, scanning the crowd with detached indifference. Couples whispering sweet nothings, groups of friends laughing over shared stories, and women—plenty of them—each eyeing you with varying degrees of interest.
And then you saw her.
She sat a few seats away, curled in on herself like she was trying to disappear. Compared to the usual crowd, she looked painfully out of place. Everything about her screamed innocence—too wide eyes, too soft features, too much hesitation. A woman like her didn’t belong here.
She was nursing a soju glass like it held all the answers to her problems, and you couldn’t help but notice how small she looked under the weight of whatever was troubling her. She had no business being here alone.
That should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve looked away, but then, some bastard slid into the seat next to her.
You watched as he leaned in too close, the stink of cheap liquor practically visible from where you sat. She flinched but didn’t push him away. Instead, she smiled nervously—too polite, too naive.
It annoyed you.
She wasn’t stupid, was she? Anyone could see what kind of man he was. Yet, she sat there, clutching her drink like it could shield her, trying to handle the situation with politeness instead of common sense.
The man’s hand reached out, curling around her wrist, and her eyes widened in that telltale way that told you she had no idea how to get out of this.
Pathetic.
You sighed, setting your glass down with a little more force than necessary, and before you knew it, you were standing.
"She’s with me."
Your voice was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade. The man turned, bleary-eyed and annoyed, but the second his gaze met yours, his confidence withered.
"Sorry, man," he muttered, raising his hands in surrender before slinking away.
You didn’t bother watching the man stumble away. Your focus stayed on her—on the way she blinked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes, as if trying to make sense of what just happened. Surprise flickered across her delicate features, followed by something softer. Gratitude, maybe.
“Th-Thank you,” she stammered, her voice barely above the hum of the bar.
You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “You should go home,” you said, your tone sharper than intended. “Guys like him aren’t going to be the last.”
She hesitated, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “I... I can’t really go home right now,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the glass in front of her.
Her answer should have annoyed you, but instead, it piqued your curiosity. Before you could question it, she looked up again and extended a hand. “Jiwon,” she said softly. “Park Jiwon.”
You stared at her hand for a beat too long before shaking it, her fingers cool and small against yours.
“Let me buy you a drink,” she offered, a tentative smile tugging at her lips. “As thanks.”
You considered her for a moment, then shrugged and took the seat beside her. Free drinks weren’t something you turned down, even if they came from someone who clearly didn’t belong in a place like this.
She signaled the bartender, her small hand barely reaching across the bar. “Excuse me, please. One…” Her voice trailed off, embarrassment flickering across her face as she realized she had no idea what to order for you.
“...Whiskey,” you finished for her, watching the way her lips parted in relief. Your gaze lingered, drifting lower to the graceful curve of her neck, the delicate slope exposed by the collar of her blouse. She looked soft—too soft, too vulnerable. Something stirred deep inside you, something you weren’t willing to acknowledge.
She offered a nervous smile. “Let's say I can't go home, but at least I shouldn’t be drinking alone, right?”
Your jaw tightened at how casually she said it. "You shouldn't be here at all."
Jiwon sighed, stirring the melting ice in her glass. “It’s fine,” she said softly. “I don't think he meant any harm.”
You stared at her, disbelief prickling beneath your skin. “Meant no harm?” Your voice dropped, harsher than intended. “If I was a second later, he would’ve had his hands around your neck—”
You stopped abruptly, swallowing down the anger that came too easily. Your eyes flickered back to her throat, to the faint line where her pulse fluttered beneath the skin. You clenched your fists, dragging your gaze away.
She shifted in her seat, clearly unnerved by your sudden intensity, but still too naive to understand the weight of the situation.
“Are you really that naive?” you asked, more irritated than concerned. "Or do you just enjoy putting yourself in danger?”
Jiwon blinked up at you, and for a moment, you thought she might cry. But instead, she straightened, something stubborn in her eyes. “I can handle myself,” she whispered, but even she didn’t sound convinced.
You leaned in slightly, your voice low. “No, Jiwon. You can’t.”
Your gaze dropped again—her throat, the way it moved when she swallowed nervously. You told yourself it was just irritation, just frustration at her carelessness. But deep down, you knew better.
The conversation went silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could have left. You should have. But something—something you couldn't quite explain—kept you anchored to your seat. An unease that wouldn't let you walk away, not yet.
So you stayed, drinking through the discomfort, each glass dulling the sharp edge of your thoughts. Four? No, maybe five now? You'd lost count somewhere between watching the ice melt in your glass and the way Jiwon's fingers trembled slightly around hers.
You turned to check on her, and the sight that greeted you made something stir deep in your chest. Her pale skin was now flushed, her cheeks tinted with a soft, rosy hue, her eyes unfocused yet still holding that same innocent trust.
"Hey," you called out, your voice lower, rougher than before. "You said you could handle yourself..."
Jiwon lifted her gaze to yours, her lips parting slightly. "I am handling myself," she murmured, voice hazy and far too soft. "And you're still here, so I don't have to worry."
Her naivety chipped away at your patience, poking at something dark inside you. You leaned in, amusement curling in your chest. "You already trust me? You don’t even know my name."
Her brows furrowed slightly, her drunken mind slowly processing your words. Then, with the same unwavering innocence, she reasoned, "You wouldn’t stay with me if you weren’t a good guy."
You let out a low, humorless chuckle. "What if I stayed exactly because I have intentions?"
Jiwon's eyes widened, realization flickering briefly before the alcohol dulled it. She blinked slowly, and then, as if accepting her own reckless logic, she whispered, "I trust you."
And then she did something you didn’t expect. Both her hands reached out, cupping your face, her touch warm—maybe from the alcohol, maybe something else. But it burned, seeping into your skin, igniting something dangerous in you.
Your jaw clenched under her gentle hold, and you exhaled slowly through your nose. "You're going to regret that," you muttered.
Before she could respond, you scooped her up in a swift, effortless motion, carrying her out of the bar in a bridal carry.
Jiwon made a small sound of protest, but it was lost against your chest, her body too pliant, too trusting. You told yourself it was just the alcohol making her reckless, but deep down, you knew—this girl didn't belong in your world. And yet, here she was.
—
The low hum of the car engine thrummed beneath her, a steady, grounding noise that pulled Jiwon back from the hazy edges of drunkenness. Her head lolled against the cool leather of the seat, and as her vision cleared, the blurry city lights outside the window sharpened into focus.
Reality crept in slowly.
She blinked once, twice, and the events of the bar replayed in her mind in disjointed fragments—the stranger’s leering smile, the way her heart had pounded in fear, and then... him. The man beside her now.
Her eyes flickered toward him cautiously. He sat there, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually against the gearshift, his sharp profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. The weight of his presence, his quiet confidence, pressed against her like an invisible force. And then it hit her.
I trust you.
Jiwon’s breath hitched as heat crept up her neck, mortification settling heavy in her chest. She had touched him, her fingers brushing against the sharp planes of his face without a second thought. Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something, to take it back, to explain herself—but no words came.
"You’re awake," his voice cut through the thick silence, deep and knowing.
She stiffened, hands curling into fists in her lap. "...Yes," she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.
His lips quirked up, almost amused, but he didn’t look at her. "You remember?"
She swallowed hard. "Some of it..."
"Good."
The weight of that single word settled in her stomach like a stone. Jiwon turned her gaze to the window, watching the neon lights blur past, wondering where they were headed. She should have asked. She should have cared.
But then his hand reached over—strong, warm fingers brushing against her wrist, guiding her gently but firmly. And she followed.
She didn't know why. Maybe it was the remnants of alcohol clouding her judgment, or maybe it was something else—something deeper, something unspoken. A pull she didn't understand.
Before she knew it, they were in the elevator of a sleek hotel, the air thick with unspoken tension. Her pulse pounded against her skin, each ding of the elevator a countdown to something inevitable.
The doors slid open, and he stepped out, never loosening his grip on her wrist. She followed him down the quiet hallway, past doors she didn’t dare glance at, her heart pounding louder than their footsteps.
Inside the room, the door clicked shut behind them, sealing them away from the rest of the world. Jiwon stood frozen, her back pressed against the door as she finally looked up at him. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, making him look even more dangerous, more untouchable.
"I should..." her voice wavered, hesitant, but even she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. I should go? I should stop?
He took a step closer, and Jiwon’s breath caught in her throat.
"Do you want to leave?" His voice was low, almost gentle, but there was something else beneath it. Something that made her stomach twist.
She opened her mouth to answer, to say yes, to say no, to say something—anything—but no words came out. Instead, she felt her head shake slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if her body had decided for her. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
Jiwon’s breath hitched as his hand slid up her arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that made her skin tingle. His other hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. She felt her eyes flutter shut, her body instinctively leaning into his touch, even as her mind screamed at her to stop.
His lips were on hers before she could think, soft yet demanding, and Jiwon felt herself melt under the weight of it. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists at her sides, slowly uncurled, her fingers trembling as they reached up to grip the front of his shirt. She didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know why she was letting this happen, but she couldn’t stop herself.
His kiss deepened, and Jiwon felt a heat spread through her, pooling low in her stomach. Her inexperience showed in the way she hesitated, the way her movements were unsure, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he guided her, his hands firm yet gentle, his lips coaxing hers to respond.
When he finally pulled away, Jiwon was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. He studied her for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable, before he leaned in again, this time to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Jiwon," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Do you still trust me?”
Jiwon, perhaps too trusting, perhaps she knew what she was doing, perhaps she wanted it herself.
She, Jiwon simply nodded.
"Good girl."
Seeing her eyes wide and vulnerable, a slow smile tugs at the corners of your lips. She should be resisting, pushing back against you, yet she naively trusts you. Her innocence makes it more difficult for you to control yourself. You want to prove her wrong, want her to regret her choices, want her to learn—you want her.
The sight of her trembling chest and quick breaths sends shivers down your spine. You trace slow circles with your thumb against her cheeks. You lean in, breathing down her neck, her scent filling your thoughts. Her clear, smooth skin makes you want to mark her.
And you do. You suck on her neck, tasting her flesh. Her hands rest on your chest, poised to push you away, yet all she did was curl her fingers. Instead, she voices a subtle moan: "Mmm..."
Her knees trembling, but you keep her steady in your embrace, relishing in her helplessness. When you pull back, leaving behind a faint ache and a warm throb on her skin, you see the confusion and desire swirling in her eyes. It's intoxicating to know that you have this power over her, this ability to make her feel such conflicting emotions.
Her name rolls off your tongue, "Jiwon," a low, rough Her name rolled off your tongue, low and rough, a sound that seemed to echo in the charged silence between you. "Jiwon." The way her wide, innocent eyes flickered to yours, the way her breath hitched at the sound of her own name—it was intoxicating. There was something about her purity, her naivety, that made the desire to claim her even more irresistible.
Her name rolled off your tongue, low and rough, a sound that seemed to echo in the charged silence between you. "Jiwon." The way her wide, innocent eyes flickered to yours, the way her breath hitched at the sound of her own name—it was intoxicating. There was something about her purity, her naivety, that made the desire to claim her even more irresistible.
“I… I haven't done this be.. before..” She shyly confess.
"You're so cute and innocent… too innocent…" you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and something darker, something possessive.
Your hand brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear to give you a clearer view of her face—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her breath came in shallow gasps. Your fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw, and she held her breath, her body trembling under your touch. You let your hand drift lower, following the curves of her body, savoring the way she shivered under your fingertips. When your hand lingered on her stomach, you could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her body reacted to even the slightest touch.
Your hand dipped below the waistband of her pants, and she flinched slightly, a soft gasp escaping her lips. But there was no real resistance in her movements, no attempt to push you away. Instead, her wide eyes followed your hand, mesmerized, as if she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to.
With ease, you slipped your fingers beneath her underwear, your touch meeting the warmth and wetness that pooled between her legs. A smirk tugged at your lips as you realized just how ready she was for you. "Jiwon, acting so innocent…" you teased, your voice low and rough, "yet your body's so lustful."
Her cheeks burned at your words, her lips parting as if to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, a soft, breathy moan escaped her as you rubbed your finger against her entrance, her warmth coating your skin. Her body was already betraying her, her wetness inviting your fingers deeper, her hole radiating heat that seemed to pull you in.
Before she could form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence, your finger pushed inside her, and her breath hitched, her back arching slightly. Her gaze remained fixed on your hand, her eyes wide and unblinking, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. Her moans were muffled, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tried to suppress the sounds threatening to escape.
But you didn’t let her hide. You moved your finger slowly, deliberately, watching her face as her innocence unraveled under your touch. "Don’t hold back," you murmured, your voice a low command. "Let me hear you."
Her lips trembled, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as you continued to move your finger inside her. Her hands clutched at the sheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white, but she didn’t try to stop you. Instead, her body arched into your touch, her hips moving slightly, as if seeking more.
"You’re so responsive," you said, your voice a mix of admiration and something darker, something possessive. "So pure, yet so eager. It’s intoxicating."
Her moans grew louder, less restrained, as you added a second finger, stretching her carefully. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back as waves of pleasure washed over her. "Ah... I... I can't..." she whispered, her voice quivering, but the words died on her lips. Her body spoke volumes instead—hips moving in rhythm with your fingers, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Her breath hitched at your command, her body trembling as she struggled to obey. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, her wide, innocent eyes locking onto yours. There was a mix of vulnerability and desire in her gaze, a silent plea for something she couldn’t quite name.
"Look at how wet you are," you repeated, your voice low and rough, as you withdrew your fingers slightly, letting her see the glistening evidence of her arousal. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her lips parting in a soft gasp as she stared at your hand, mesmerized and mortified all at once.
"I... I didn’t know..." she whispered, her voice trembling, but you cut her off with a firm, possessive tone.
"Look at how much your body wants this,” you said, your fingers pushing back inside her, deeper this time, curling in a way that made her back arch off the bed.
Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her hands clutching at the sheets as pleasure coiled tightly in her core. Her hips moved instinctively, seeking more of your touch, more of the intoxicating sensation you were giving her. "Ah... I... I can’t..." she whimpered, her voice breaking as the pressure built inside her.
"Let go," you commanded, your voice firm but laced with a dark tenderness. "I want to see you fall apart for me."
Her body obeyed before her mind could catch up. The tension inside her snapped, and she cried out, her voice a mix of surprise and relief as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her back arched, her thighs trembling as she clenched around your fingers, her release washing over her in a dizzying rush.
You watched her closely, savoring every twitch, every gasp, every shudder that rippled through her body. Her innocence, her purity, was now forever marked by the pleasure you had given her. And as she slowly came down from her high, her breath still ragged, her body still trembling, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear.
Waves of pleasure travel throughout her body, her hips out of control kept jerking. Her climax semingly unending as she can still vividly remember his finger inside of her as if it never left.
“Good girl”
Her thoughts that was swamp with pleasure cleared after he heard his voice. Jiwon dropped to her knees as her legs gave out. Her strength leaving her as she thinking it was over, she was satisfied more she asked for, she was relieved after a very long time.
But before she could even gather herself, arms suddenly swoop her, rasing her up.
Before she realized she was cradle in his arm, leaning into his chest.
He didn't talk, he didn't inform Jiwon on what his plan, Jiwon didn't know what was in his head, Jiwon didn't question what was he doing, all she did was trust him.
Jiwon dropped to her knees as it strength leaves her legs, her pelvis still burning from the after. She can still vividly remember his fingers inside as if it never left
Waves of pleasure continued to ripple through her body, even as his fingers left her. Her hips jerked involuntarily, still chasing the sensation, her climax seemingly unending. The memory of his touch lingered vividly, as if his fingers were still inside her, still coaxing every last tremor of pleasure from her trembling form.
"Good girl," his voice cut through the haze, low and approving, and Jiwon’s thoughts, once swamped with pleasure, began to clear. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she dropped to her knees, her strength completely drained. She gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of her release.
For a moment, she thought it was over. She felt satisfied, more than she had ever imagined possible, and a strange sense of relief washed over her, as if a weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying had been lifted. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, trying to gather herself.
But before she could even process what had happened, strong arms suddenly swooped beneath her, lifting her effortlessly off the floor. Jiwon let out a small, surprised gasp, her body instinctively curling into his chest as he cradled her against him. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breath still uneven, her mind still foggy with the remnants of pleasure.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t tell her what he was planning, didn’t explain where he was taking her. Jiwon didn’t know what was going through his mind, didn’t know what he intended to do next. But she didn’t question him. She didn’t resist. Instead, she simply trusted him, her body relaxing in his arms as he carried her down the hallway.
When they reached the bedroom, he set her down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment as if to steady her. Jiwon’s legs still felt weak, her body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but she sat upright, her wide, innocent eyes looking up at him with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.
He knelt before her, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt with a tenderness that felt almost reverent. The fabric slid upward slowly, his touch deliberate yet gentle, as if he were handling something precious. She raised her arms to assist, her movements hesitant but willing, her breath hitching as the cool air brushed against her now-bare skin. His gaze remained locked on hers, dark and intense, yet softened by something unspoken that made her pulse quicken.
Next, his fingers found the button of her pants, and she stiffened slightly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "Relax," he murmured, his voice low and steady, though the roughness beneath the surface hinted at the restraint he was clinging to. "I’ll take care of you."
She nodded, her lips trembling as he undid the button and eased her pants down her legs. He paused, his hands lingering on her thighs, his breath catching as he took her in. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure.
Now clad only in her white, flowery underwear, Jiwon sat at the edge of the bed, her smooth skin glowing under the dim lamplight. Her curves were unveiled, her bra accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts, her panties still damp from earlier. She waited, her heart racing, unsure of what would come next.
He stepped back, hurriedly shedding his own clothes. Jiwon’s eyes widened, her gaze flickering over his body with a mix of awe and nervousness. When he finally removed the last piece of clothing, her breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes fell to his shaft, stiff and swollen, and her mind flooded with questions.
Why is it so big?
Is it always like that?
Is it as hard as it looks?
Is it warm—or hot?
Why does it seem so full, like it’s about to burst?
Driven by curiosity, her hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers hovering just above him. But before she could make contact, his hand shot out, catching her wrist gently but firmly.
"Don’t," he said, his voice low and rough, his eyes dark with warning. "I can only hold back so much."
Though she didn’t fully understand his words, she quickly pulled her hand back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling.
He shook his head, his expression softening. "You don’t need to apologize," he said, his tone gentler now. "Just... let me take care of you."
"Jiwon," he said, his voice low and rough, "look at me."
She obeyed, her wide eyes meeting his, and he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks.
His hands guided her gently, easing her down onto the bed with a tenderness that belied the intensity in his eyes. He kept the intimate distance between their lips, his breath mingling with hers as he climbed onto the bed, his body following hers as he moved her farther into the soft mattress. The weight of him above her was both comforting and overwhelming, his presence enveloping her completely.
He leaned in, finally closing the distance between their lips, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was both demanding and tender. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip, seeking entry, and Jiwon hesitated for only a moment before parting her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth, intertwining with hers in a slow, deliberate dance that left her breathless.
Their kiss seemed unending, each movement of his lips and tongue sending shivers down her spine. But as they kissed, Jiwon became acutely aware of the subtle shifts in his body, the way his hips pressed against hers, the way his tip brushed against her belly with every small movement. At first, she was surprised, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before she closed them again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
But as the kiss continued, she found herself anticipating the sensation, her body reacting instinctively to the subtle friction. She began to notice which movements caused his tip to touch her skin, and without fully realizing it, she started to move herself in ways that would bring them into contact more often. It was almost unconscious, a natural response to the heat building between them, but each time she felt him against her, a thrill of excitement shot through her.
His hands roamed over her body, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Jiwon," he murmured, his voice rough and strained, "you’re driving me crazy."
She blinked up at him, her lips slightly swollen from their earlier kiss, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "I... I didn’t mean to," she whispered, her voice trembling, her words barely audible.
In one swift motion, his hands moved around her back, fingers deftly finding the clasp of her bra. With a soft click, it loosened, and he gently slid the straps down her arms, Jiwon assisting with a quiet compliance. Her chest was now fully exposed, her nipples erect and sensitive to the cool air—and to his gaze.
He didn’t hesitate. Lowering himself, he descended to her torso, his breath hot against her skin as it brushed over her sensitive chest. She shivered, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he began to explore her with his mouth. His tongue flicked against one nipple, teasing it before his lips closed around it, sucking gently but insistently. At the same time, his other hand moved to her opposite breast, his fingers rolling and pinching the nipple with just the right amount of pressure, ensuring it wasn’t neglected.
Jiwon’s breath hitched, her back arching slightly as pleasure rippled through her. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself. The sensations were overwhelming—his mouth hot and demanding, his touch both soothing and electrifying. She could feel once more the heat pooling low in her abdomen.
"Ah—" she whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to process the intensity of it all. Her mind was a haze of desire and vulnerability, her thoughts scattering as he continued to lavish attention on her. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle tug of his lips, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, leaving her breathless and yearning for more.
But the sensation suddenly disappeared…
Before quickly reappearing in her belly.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling as the sensations shifted. His tongue, which had been tracing lines across her stomach, now moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. She could feel his hands on her hips, firm yet gentle, as they hooked into the waistband of her panties and began to peel them away. Her womanhood, already slick with arousal, was exposed to the cool air—and to him.
She watched, her heart pounding, as he kissed his way down her thighs, his movements deliberate and unhurried. His breath was warm against her skin, sending shivers through her as he neared her most intimate place. When his head dipped between her legs, disappearing from her view, she felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his gaze on her, intense and unwavering, as if he were studying her, memorizing every detail.
Then it happened—something warm and wet pressed against her, and she realized it was his tongue. Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the sheets as he began to explore her with a slow, deliberate precision. The sensation was foreign yet intoxicating, his tongue moving in ways that made her toes curl and her back arch.
But then something changed. His tongue delved deeper, more insistently, moving in unpredictable patterns that left no part of her untouched. It was wide and thorough, exploring her with an intensity that made her gasp. Her mind struggled to process the overwhelming pleasure, her thoughts scattering as he continued to taste her, to devour her.
When he finally pulled back, his head rising from between her legs, she saw him lick his lips, as if savoring the flavor of her. The realization of what he had just done—what he had just tasted—sent a flush of heat to her cheeks. She was utterly exposed, both physically and emotionally, and yet the way he looked at her, with a mix of hunger and reverence, made her feel something she couldn’t quite name.
Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "You... you—" she started, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to say, how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside her.
He didn’t speak, either. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her inner thigh in a soft, almost apologetic kiss, as if to reassure her. His eyes met hers, dark and intense, and in that moment, she knew he wasn’t done—not with her, not with this. And despite the whirlwind of sensations and emotions, she found herself wanting more, craving whatever came next.
“Jiwon, i can't hold back any longer” He stated. His eyes meet Jiwon, seemingly waiting for her confirmation.
Jiwon’s breath hitched as his voice broke the silence, low and rough, filled with a tension that mirrored the ache building inside her. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and intense, searching for her consent, her approval. She could see the restraint in his expression, the way his jaw tightened as he waited, giving her the power to decide.
For a moment, she hesitated, her mind racing with a mix of fear and desire. She had never been this vulnerable, this exposed, with anyone before. But the way he looked at her—with a hunger that was tempered by something softer, something protective—made her feel safe, even in her uncertainty.
Her lips parted, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I… I trust you.”
It was all he needed. His eyes flared with something primal, yet his touch remained gentle as he shifted closer, his hands sliding to her hips to guide her into position. She could feel the heat of him, the weight of his desire pressing against her, and her heart pounded in anticipation.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice thick with need but still tender. “Keep your eyes on me.”
She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his as he positioned himself at her entrance. The first touch of him against her sent a jolt through her body, and she gasped, her fingers digging into the sheets. He moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, his eyes never leaving hers.
As he finally pushed forward, a sharp, unfamiliar pain tore through Jiwon, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping for air. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her back arching involuntarily as her body reacted to the sudden intrusion. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she struggled to process the intensity of the sensation. Her mind raced, replaying every choice that had led her to this moment, every step that had brought her here.
“Ah— it hurts…” she pleaded, her voice trembling, her body tense as she tried to endure the pain.
He froze immediately, his body going still as he felt her tense beneath him. The pause gave her a moment to catch her breath, her body slowly relaxing as the initial shock began to subside. The pain, while still present, became more manageable, and her focus shifted from the discomfort to the sensation of him inside her.
She could feel his warmth spreading through her, his presence reshaping her in ways she had never imagined. His throbs pulsed within her, a rhythm that seemed to echo in her very core. Her body heated further, a mix of curiosity and anticipation building within her.
Her thoughts raced, tumbling over one another in a chaotic flood.
Is this what sex is?
What happens after this?
How would it feel if he moved?
The pain that had consumed her just moments ago was now overshadowed by a growing curiosity, a yearning to understand, to experience more. Her passion ignited, her body responding to his presence in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend.
But before she could fully process her thoughts, his voice broke through the haze, his words pulling her back to reality.
Her blood trickles onto you before it stains the bedsheets, a vivid reminder of what just happened. The sight of it sends a jolt through you, a mix of awe and something primal stirring deep within.
“Jiwon… you’re bleeding.”
—
“I—I told you,��� she whispers, her voice trembling, pulling your attention back to her. Your gaze shifts to her face, but her eyes are avoiding yours, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something else—something vulnerable. “I’ve never done this before.”
The words hit you like a wave, and it all clicks into place. You remember her saying it earlier, but now, in this moment, the weight of it sinks in. She wasn’t just talking about the circumstances—she meant it was her first time. Ever. The realization sends a rush of heat through you, your body reacting in ways you can’t fully control.
You stare at her, taking in the way her hands grip each other, as if seeking comfort or reassurance. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, bitten nervously, and her entire demeanor screams innocence. This was her first time, and now… she’s no longer a maiden. Because of you.
The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through you, your excitement flaring as you realize what you’ve just claimed. Her first time. Her first everything. The heat in your body rises, your desire intensifying as you struggle to hold onto the last shreds of your sanity. She’s driving you insane, and she doesn’t even realize it.
“Jiwon,” you murmur, your voice low and rough, barely holding back the storm of emotions raging inside you. “…you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
She blinks up at you, her wide eyes finally meeting yours, and in that moment, you see it—the trust, the vulnerability, the curiosity. It’s all there, laid bare for you to see. And it only makes you want her more.
You lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s both possessive and tender, trying to convey everything you can’t put into words. When you pull back, your forehead rests against hers, your breath mingling as you try to steady yourself.
“I’ll go slow,” you promise, your voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
She nods, her lips trembling, and you can feel her body slowly relaxing beneath you. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, and then you begin to move again, your thrusts slow and deliberate, giving her time to adjust. The way she feels around you is intoxicating—warm, tight, and utterly consuming. You have to fight to keep your movements controlled, to keep from losing yourself completely.
“Hmmmn…” she whimpers, desperately trying to hold back her moans, her voice trembling with restraint.
You can feel how tense she is, her walls gripping you with such intensity that it’s almost difficult to move. She’s holding back, both physically and emotionally, and you know she needs reassurance. You pull out slightly, feeling her body resist for a moment before you push back in, deeper this time. It’s still tight, but there’s a faint ease, as if her body is slowly molding to yours, adjusting to your size.
“Relax, Jiwon,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing as you continue to move against her, slow and steady. “You’re too tight… just let go. Trust me.”
Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clings to you. Her breath comes in short, uneven gasps, and you can feel her body responding to you, slowly but surely. Every sound she makes, every tremble of her body, only fuels your desire, and you can feel your restraint slipping. You pull out again, this time a little further, and when you push back in, you can feel her body yielding more easily, allowing you to go deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you have to grit your teeth to keep from losing control.
“Don’t hold yourself back,” you breathe into her ear, your voice a husky whisper. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”
“Oh god… it feels weird, it’s—it’s… ah…” she moans, her voice breaking as she finally lets go, the sound sending a jolt of heat through you.
“You’re doing so well,” you murmur, your voice rough with need but laced with tenderness. “You fit me so well, Jiwon.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her body arching slightly as she begins to move with you, tentatively at first, but then with more confidence. The way she responds to you, the way she trusts you, only makes you want her more. Her innocence, her vulnerability—it’s all for you, and it drives you wild. You pull out again, this time almost completely, and when you thrust back in, you can feel her body opening up to you, accepting you more fully. It’s as if she’s molding to your shape, her walls gripping you tightly but with less resistance, allowing you to push deeper than before.
“Ahh… it’s too much… I can’t… something’s—” she gasps, her voice trembling as her body tenses beneath you.
“Let go,” you urge, your voice a low growl, barely holding back your own climax. “I’ve got you.”
“I ca—can’t anymore… something’s coming—ahh!” she cries out, her voice breaking as her body shudders with the force of her release.
“Don’t worry,” you assure her, your voice strained as you feel your own control slipping. “I’m close too…”
Her body tenses, her back arching as a wave of pleasure crashes over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. You feel her climax around you, her walls gripping you tightly as she cries out softly, her voice breaking with the intensity of it. The sensation is overwhelming, and it pushes you over the edge. You pull out one last time, your body trembling with the effort to hold back, and when you thrust back in, you can feel her body fully accepting you, her warmth enveloping you completely.
With a low groan, you pull out just in time, your release spraying across her exhausted body. It lands on her smooth, pale skin, tainting her once more, marking her in a way that feels both primal and possessive. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.
For a moment, you both lie there, breathless and spent, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You can feel her heart racing against your chest, her body pressed close to yours, her warmth seeping into you.
“Jiwon,” you whisper, your voice soft but filled with emotion. With your fingers you set aside her hair, pulling a hair strand out of her mouth. “You… you’re incredible.”
The first thing Jiwon noticed when she woke up was the warmth—his warmth. His arm was still wrapped loosely around her waist, his breathing slow and steady against the back of her neck. It was a kind of comfort she’d never known before, and for a moment, she allowed herself to sink into it, to pretend it could last.
She doesn’t say anything, her mind clearly still reeling from what just happened. But as she lies there in your arms, her body pressed against yours, you know one thing for certain—she’s yours. And you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, to keep her close. Because she’s not just anyone. She’s Jiwon. And she’s everything.
—
But reality was quick to creep in.
She blinked up at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events of the night before in fragments—the way he had touched her, not with urgency, but with a patience that made her chest ache. The way his lips had traced her skin with quiet reverence, his voice low and soothing when she hesitated. He had been so gentle, so careful with her, as if she were something fragile.
No one had ever treated her that way before.
Jiwon’s fingers curled into the sheets. Her father’s voice echoed in the back of her mind, sharp and unyielding. "You're to marry Kang, and that's final." It didn’t matter what she wanted; it never did. Love, tenderness—those were luxuries she was never allowed. Her life was a carefully laid-out plan, dictated by family expectations and obligations.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to move, slowly slipping out from under his arm. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and she took it as a sign. If she left now, she could convince herself this was just a fleeting mistake—something she could forget.
Standing by the bed, she watched him for a moment longer. In sleep, he looked softer, less guarded, and something deep inside her twisted painfully. She didn’t even know his name, and yet, he had given her something she had never received from anyone before.
She glanced around the dimly lit hotel room, searching for her clothes. As she quietly dressed, her eyes fell on the bedside table. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a few bills and placed them neatly beside his wallet—enough for breakfast, she thought. It was foolish, but it felt like the right thing to do, a way to show gratitude for something she could never truly repay.
With one last glance, she turned toward the door, hesitating just for a second.
Then, without looking back, she slipped out of the room and into the quiet hotel hallway.
As she stepped outside into the crisp morning air, wrapping her coat tightly around herself, she realized she didn’t regret last night.
For once, she had allowed herself to feel.
And maybe that was why, despite everything—despite the man waiting for her at home, despite the weight of expectations pressing down on her—she knew she had already fallen.
...
Part 2
#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#smut#female idol smut#girl group smut#fromis 9 smut#fromis#park jiwon#jiwon#fromis 9
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Tim Is A Wayne. AU
Au where Tim joins the batfam early but decides to have a simple life
Most "Tim joins the batfam early" fics end with Jason never going to Ethiopia and Tim becoming Robin while Jason becomes Flamebird or Red Hood. And I'm usually fine with that
But
Listen to me carefully
What if... What if Tim doesn't become Robin? 😦😦😦😦😦
LISTEN TO ME
PUT DOWN THAT ROCK
So... yeah, the kid likes to run around Gotham and take pictures, but let's be honest, Tim is an amateur, the only times he plays the hero are to protect himself or because the situation requires it
So... Tim keeps "sneaking" around to take pictures of Batman and Robin, and I say "sneaking" because even if he walked out the door it wouldn't change the fact that everyone already knows. And Tim doesn't want to become Robin, in canon he never wanted to be Robin, but Batman needed a Robin, but since Jason never died, then Tim doesn't have to become Robin
Do you get my point?
No? I don't care
There are two paths here, Tim becomes a spy for the Bats and now takes pictures of villains and deals in illegal stuff and... Well, he's an Oracle but physical (SOMEONE GIVE ME TIM A SPY, I AM BEGGING YOU) and now he has backup in case he falls off a building or someone notices him, and now he has equipment that doesn't consist of black clothes and worn out sneakers, but he never becomes a vigilante who fights bad guys, he's... Natasha Romanoff but without the fighting skills
And the other way... Tim... has a normal life 😦😦😦😦😦😦😦 as normal as being Bruce Wayne's son would allow him, he goes to school even though he's ahead, he has two brothers who love him and are willing to kill/die for him, he has Alfred (which, being the only member who doesn't stay up all night hitting people, he appreciates him and teaches him things about life [TIM KNOWS HOW TO COOK LIKE ALFRED, SOMEONE, I BEG YOU TO GIVE ME THAT] and among all his grandchildren, Tim is the favorite). And he has Bruce, who is a good father and is thrilled that one of his sons didn't take his path and is safe at home :D
Here are two more paths from "Tim Joining The Batfam Early" and that is... Jason's Death. It didn't happen: It's a lot of what you read above, not a lot of changes and that's fine. And... Jason does die
But Bruce doesn't get another Robin and Tim doesn't become Robin because his brother just died in that suit... a lot of Angst there. And Bruce doesn't break down because his family won't let him, he can't break down because his other son needs him. And when Jason comes back the first thing he wants to do is see his little brother
And there's plenty of angst there for them to feed on
But let's leave the angst aside, let's get to the fun part
Jason never dies and Tim is kidnapped
Option A) Tim stays silent as he waits for whoever comes to get him out of here, staring at anyone who passes by
Option B) He unties himself and escapes to the roof, waiting for whoever is coming for him to appear
Tim finishes high school and goes to Ivy University and is accepted with a scholarship and the family is happy
Tim welcomes Damian with open arms because he always wanted a little brother (he wanted to stop being treated like the baby of the family, please, he's 15 now) and Damian wants to hate this kid because it seems like everyone in the family loves him, but he's the person who gives the most stability to the mansion and the family and he's the one who convinced Bruce to let him have a cat
Tim is still the smartest of the 3 brothers, he helps out with whatever he can, Superboy has a weird crush on him, he solves all of Nygma's riddles and brags about it on social media, he does his internships at WE but not out of necessity but because it's his father's company. Ra's has his eye on him for some reason ????? But fuck everyone, Ra's looks at him too much and his family will make sure that's the last thing he does
And Tim... he lives a normal life. He goes to college, he has friends outside of the masks, he is loved and he loves and... It's okay
And WOAH WOAH WOAH WHAT IS THIS THOUGHT???? TIM BECOMING RED HOOD????????? WHAT?????? that's another post, lol
#dc comics#batman#nightwing#tim drake centric#batfam#dc robin#tim drake#damian wayne#jason todd#red hood#robin#tim joining the batfam#tim joins the batfam early#AU#this is weird#considering my other post#but its fine#my cat has caught me#i cant move#help
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dad haechan scenario
you know who i miss? my nct dad universe😅 i have to re-read them first to remember what i wrote last, but for now here's haechan being the best girl dad ever🤍💛
pt. 1 - Lee and Lily
pt. 2 - bigger that the whole sky
pt. 3 - lily and chocobi
pt. 4 - little flower
For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025. Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)
The sun is high, casting a golden hue over the park as the three of you enjoy a relaxing family day.
Haechan holds Nari's tiny hand while she skips along, her giggles filling the air. You're carrying a small picnic bag, watching your husband beam with pride every time Nari looks up at him with her big, sparkling eyes.
Haechan is the epitome of a doting father. He indulges her every whim—whether it’s an extra scoop of ice cream, piggyback rides, or her favorite pink balloon he bought earlier.
The day seems perfect. Nari plays on the swings while Haechan pushes her gently, her squeals of joy echoing as she soars higher. You're seated on a bench nearby, enjoying the sight of your two favorite people basking in their world. Haechan has always had a knack for making her laugh, and you adore the way he dotes on her. It warms your heart to see how much he loves being a father.
After a while, Nari darts off toward the sandbox. Haechan joins you on the bench, his arm draping around your shoulders. “She’s got so much energy,” he chuckles, his eyes never leaving her. “Where does she even store it all?”
“She gets it from you,” you tease, earning a playful nudge. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, content in each other’s company while watching Nari construct her masterpiece in the sand.
It happens in an instant.
One moment, Nari is sitting in the sandbox. The next, she’s on her feet, chasing after a stray balloon that has floated into the breeze. Your heart skips a beat as you realize the direction she’s heading—toward the busy street.
“Nari!” Haechan shouts, his voice cutting through the noise of the park.
Both of you leap up from the bench, running toward her. She’s so small and quick, and your heart pounds with terror as you see her just a few feet from the edge of the curb. A car whizzes by, oblivious to the little girl running toward danger.
Haechan reaches her just in time, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. He kneels down, his face pale with fear. “Nari, what were you thinking?!” His voice is sharper than usual, his fear manifesting as anger. “You could’ve gotten hurt! You know better than to run off like that!”
Nari’s eyes widen, tears brimming as she stares at her father in shock. He’s never raised his voice at her like this before. Her little lips quiver, and she bursts into tears, turning away from him and running straight into your arms.
You crouch down, scooping her up as she buries her face in your shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s got you,” you soothe, rubbing her back. Her sobs are muffled against you, but she clings tightly, refusing to let go.
Haechan stands there, his expression a mixture of guilt and frustration. “Nari…” he starts, but she shakes her head furiously, tightening her grip on you.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” you say gently, giving him a sympathetic look. “Let her calm down first.”
The walk back to your picnic spot is quiet. Nari refuses to look at her dad, keeping her head nestled against your shoulder. Haechan follows a few steps behind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face heavy with regret. He keeps glancing at Nari, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Once you’re seated on the blanket, Nari finally loosens her hold on you. Her little sniffles subside as you stroke her hair and hum softly.
Haechan crouches a few feet away, hesitant but determined. “Nari, Daddy’s sorry,” he says, his voice soft and pleading. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just so worried. I love you so much, and I got scared when I thought something bad might happen to you.”
Nari peeks at him from behind your arm, her eyes still watery. “You yelled at me,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Haechan nods, his gaze full of remorse. “I did, and I’m really sorry. I was wrong to yell. But do you know why I was so upset? Because you’re the most important thing in the world to me. I don’t want anything to happen to my little girl.”
There’s a long pause before Nari finally lets go of your arm and takes a small step toward him. “You scared me, Daddy.”
“I know, and I promise I’ll try not to do that again,” he says, opening his arms. “Can I have a hug?”
Nari hesitates for a moment, then rushes into his embrace. Haechan scoops her up, holding her close as she nestles against his chest. “I’m sorry, my angel” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Daddy loves you so much.”
You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling with relief and love. Haechan looks at you over Nari’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face as if to say thank you for being the bridge between them.
The rest of the day is quieter but no less filled with love. Haechan is extra attentive, making sure Nari feels safe and happy. By the time you leave the park, she’s giggling again, perched on her dad’s shoulders as he pretends to be a galloping horse.
The house is quiet, save for the sound of Nari’s soft laughter echoing from her bedroom as Haechan reads her a bedtime story.
You’re in the hallway, tidying up some of her toys, but your ears stay tuned to the sound of his voice. He’s doing the silly voices again—the ones that never fail to make her giggle uncontrollably.
Eventually, the laughter dies down, and you know the story has come to an end. You peek toward the door, careful not to make a sound, and hear Haechan’s gentle voice.
“Nari,” he begins, his tone calm and soothing, “can we talk about what happened at the park today?”
There’s a pause, and then her small voice pipes up. “Are you still mad at me, Daddy?”
“No, love,” he says quickly. “I was never really mad at you. I was scared. So, so scared.” His voice wavers slightly, and you can hear the sincerity in it. “When I saw you running toward the street, I thought something bad might happen to you, and that made my heart hurt. I raised my voice because I didn’t know how else to tell you how serious it was.”
Another pause. “I’m sorry I ran away,” Nari says softly.
Haechan sighs gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But do you understand why it’s important to stay close to Mommy and Daddy when we’re outside?”
“Because cars are dangerous?” she guesses.
“That’s right,” he says, his tone full of encouragement. “Even if you see something fun, like a balloon, it’s really important to stop and tell Mommy or me first. We want to keep you safe, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers. “I won’t do it again.”
“I know you won’t, princess. You’re such a smart girl.” You hear the rustle of sheets, and you can imagine him tucking her in snugly. “And remember, no matter what, Mommy and I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.”
“I love you too, Daddy,” she replies, her voice sleepy now.
“Goodnight, my little angel,” Haechan says softly. There’s the faint sound of a kiss before the door creaks open slightly, and he steps out into the hallway, closing it gently behind him.
You’re standing there, leaning against the wall, and as soon as he turns, you wrap your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, then relaxes into your embrace, his arms circling your waist.
“You’re the best dad, you know that?” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
Haechan chuckles softly, though his voice is tinged with humility. “I don’t know about that. I feel like I messed up earlier.”
“No, you didn’t,” you insist, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You handled everything perfectly. You were scared, sure, but the way you talked to her just now? The way you explained everything so gently? That’s what makes you an amazing dad.”
His lips curve into a small, bashful smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just want her to grow up knowing she’s loved and protected.”
“She does,” you say firmly, resting your head against his chest. “And so do I.”
The two of you stand there in the quiet hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. In that moment, all the fear and tension from earlier melt away, leaving only the warmth of love and gratitude—for him, for Nari, and for the little family you’ve built together.
#fic#story#nct#nct dad#nct fluff#nct haechan#haechan dad#haechan fluff#haechan imagine#nct imagine#nct scenrio#nct au#haechan scenario#haechan au#haechan fic#nct dream
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Our Glory - Jeon Jae Joon x Fem Reader
Plot: Jae Joon leave South Korea to avoid being part of a violence scandal and arrives in America to start his life again, finding the love of his life who makes him feel human for the first time. Despite the distance, no matter how much he avoids his reality, the ghost of his past will reach him wherever he is endangering everything he has achieved.
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Violence, Angst, Drama Warning: Themes of school violence, abuse of power, minors being harassed, harsh language.
A/N: The story is inspired by The Glory, however, some time periods have changed as well as situations where the protagonist will be part of changing some original scenes.
I appreciate you reading and being part of this new story, as always I hope to please your readers' hearts.
I'll be back soon.
No one would dare to approach the daughter of the most sought-after heir in all New york, in fact no one would even think of marrying a girl as independent and grown up as you.
Your single status was a myth in the chats of the women of your class, how could such a pretty girl, with so much class, be single, hadn't she found someone at her level? Dozens of boys had asked you out because their parents had forced them to do it, that was what the line was, an heir with an heiress, right? But you decided to shoo each one of them away like flies on fresh flowers, too spoiled, arrogant, lazy, they weren't your type.
That night, the night of the charity gala where all the millionaires seemed to attend only to boast about how much their company had given to charitable causes seemed like just another boring night, with nothing to do but stand next to your parents smiling holding a glass of the most expensive (and disgusting) wine that you barely sipped.
Sir, nice to meet you again - a man with a foreign accent and Asian features approached and shook your father's hand before bowing slightly to your mother and you.
The pleasure is mine Mr. Jeon, It would be nice to meet at the club for breakfast one day. How long will you be in town this time? - your father smiled kindly. Despite his status and large bank account, you could tell and presume that he was a generous man with a good heart, and it always made you feel good to hear that you were just like him.
Fortunately this time we will stay a little longer, we are planning to live in America, I have some business in mind and I have started to build a club in this part of the country, you know, bring a little bit of Korea to America so they can get to know a little bit about us - both men continued chatting, laughing perhaps pretending that one was interested in the other's talk
You just sighed and looked around, your high heels were starting to hurt in your heels, your hand was perhaps already numb from holding the same glass all night
Jae Joon how nice that you came - Mr. Jeon smiled patting his son's back making a gesture of displeasure when he noticed the aroma of cigarettes on his clothes - I want you to meet Mr. Y / L/N he is a great friend and excellent partner in bussiness
A pleasure sir - the man offered his hand shaking it firmly with a smile that made his cheeks become plump giving a tender touch to his face
Jae Joon I have heard a lot about you, it is a pleasure to finally meet you -Your father smiled looking at your mother and then lightly took your arm making you turn your face in a surprised way looking forward- this is Y/N my daughter
Nice to meet you miss - Jae Joon smiled at you slightly tilting his head making you respond with just a shy smile
''Another prospect for the inheritance again'' you thought feeling annoyed and bored of the same dynamic every time your father met the son of a bussines partner
It wasn't very difficult to think about it, you could take care of the business, for some reason you had finished college at the best school in Europe, you had experience and many times you were able to support your father in difficult decisions, what was the problem after all, you didn't need a man to be successful.
When you finally got out of the crowd and the air hit your face you breathed a sigh of relief, it didn't matter that it was cold outside, it was almost the end of November but it was still better than being suffocated between expensive perfumes and the aroma of hundreds of exotic dishes that you hated.
You found the first stone bench on the balcony decorated with plants to sit and rest, the pain in your ankles was a burning sensation that you felt constantly but you were forced to endure to look "elegant"
Are you bored too? - a deep and velvety voice made you come out of your trance while you slowly massaged your ankle
Excuse me? - you looked at him confused
People here are boring just talking about money and business - he sighed bringing a cigarette to her mouth lighting it quickly - you don't mind me smoking, right?
No, I was leaving anyway - you smiled at him kindly standing up to enter the large hall again
You know - his voice made you turn around looking at him not at all curious, just not seeming rude and leaving him talking to himself - I don't know many people around here, I'm new in town and it would be nice, I don't know, to go out someday to get to know each other, after all I'll be around here for a long time
I don't usually work as a tour guide Mr. Jeon, excuse me - you smiled ironically turning around annoyed at getting the same thing again every time someone met you, a boring date proposal
Your answer had frozen him in place, he had never gotten a rejection from any girl, in fact the women in his country fought to get even a little attention from him, this caused him a feeling of rejection that he had never felt, in fact, in these cases his anger would have shot up breaking a couple of plants and damaging the property but as much as he tried to get upset he couldn't find where he had kept that feeling, he simply felt alone and rejected.
With the days you became more and more convinced that you would probably never find an honest man, in your class they didn't exist, they only looked for contacts and last names, it was clear that was why most of them looked for you and to be honest it wasn't something you were looking for, you enjoyed your single life, going out with your friends and doing everything as you wanted without giving explanations to anyone, although sometimes, you couldn't help but feel jealous and lonely seeing how most of them had someone to share with.
Nobody is at your level or maybe you just aren't lucky enough? - Ashley laughed, drinking from her glass with her left hand, showing off her (third) engagement ring
I can have any man I want, but that doesn't mean I'll go to bed with everyone, it's not my style - you smiled at her, drinking, making your other friends laugh
Oh yeah? And who have you wanted? Because we've never met anyone, right? - she smiled mockingly, making your friends erase their smiles, settling down a bit
Danielle was a little smarter, she changed the topic of the conversation to avoid awkwardness among the group, but in your head you couldn't stop thinking about your parents' words.
''I'm getting old, I'd like to see you have a happy life like mine, I'd like to have grandchildren, that's all''
''SaeHyeon has talked to me a lot about his son, he told me that he asked you out and you didn't accept, he seems very interested in you, why don't you give him a chance?''
Maybe… after all, they were right.
So, a couple of weeks later you decided to change your lifestyle and go for what everyone said was "wonderful." Your father was surprised to see you ready in your sportswear to accompany him to the Jeon golf course. He knew you perfectly so he didn't mention anything and just gave you a slight smile so as not to make you uncomfortable with your decision where you clearly weren't interested in talking about business.
The trip was short and when you arrived you were surprised by the architecture so elegant and different from that of your country, very minimalist and clean, the rooms were large, with furniture that combined perfectly and large windows, you could hear your father talking to a partner in the distance but your attention was totally given to the beauty of the place.
After a while and after having breakfast in the large room full of tables and delicious food you were able to go out to see the gardens, the golf carts passed by and every step you took showed you natural places where people showed their skills on the game.
Y/N?…what a surprise to see you here - Jae Joon smiled approaching while a couple of men watched him walk away with worried faces - go do your jobs, I'll see you later - he looked at them pushing them away with his hand making both of them leave almost running - I didn't know you were a member of the club
I'm not, my father came to talk to some members and I decided to accompany him - you smiled a little holding your sports bag with both hands
Don't worry, you can come here whenever you want, I'll tell them to let you in without bothering you with memberships or that paperwork - his smile didn't fade making you find him cute - would you like to come see the place with me?
Sure - you smiled at him again walking beside him with slow steps looking around as he talked about how many golf gardens they had, how many tennis courts and other boring ''rich'' people sports
What do you think? - His gaze was curious, as if looking for proof of you in the newly opened place
It's very nice, I've never seen anything so elegant and beautiful - you smiled looking at the small flower garden that adorned one side of an artificial lake
Do you like flowers? - he ask you curious
Yes, they're pretty, gardenias are my favorites - you looked at him nodding, returning your gaze to the lake where some people were practicing with their canoes
I'll ask them to plant gardenias all around the lake, how about a couple of benches too, so whenever you want to come and smell them you can sit comfortably on them - he smile moving his hands in front of both like designing the new additions to the place
What?…no it's not necessary…
Of course it is, if you're going to come here, I want you to feel at home - his face was so kind and warm that it made you feel a kind of butterflies and weirdness inside you
It wasn't possible that in just a couple of minutes you felt something for someone that you barely knew their name, it wasn't normal for you.
Sir, excuse the interruption, we need your help - a man dressed in a suit with a nervous face looked at him while rubbing his hands nervously on his pants
It seemed that the interruption had made Jae Joon change his face and personality in just a second, his jaw tensed and he rolled his eyes looking at him annoyed
I told you that I hate being interrupted, do I have to solve everything myself? - her hands clenched tightly causing the man to look down in fear
It's okay, you can go don't worry - you smiled at him feeling anxious from the tension of the moment adjusting your sports backpack on your shoulder
I'm sorry I have to go, some people are too stupid to do their own work - the veins in his eyes turned red as if the fury couldn't be contained within his body, he didn't even give you time to respond when both men quickened their pace towards a destination unknown to you.
After all you were relieved, the encounter ended before it became awkward, but you couldn't help but notice that his personality changed with the rest of the people.
That night while you were drying your hair your phone rang on your vanity full of perfumes, your biggest obsession.
''I'm sorry about this morning, would you like to go to dinner? JJ''
His simple message made you smile making you feel strange, did you have feelings for Jae Joon? The best thing would be to answer him, or maybe not? If you did it quickly he would realize that you were very interested, but if you waited a little he would feel that you were not interested at all.
''Of course xx''
The first date was exciting for both of you, you talked for hours about your lives and what you would like for the future, you could feel as if your destiny was destined, fortunately neither of you touched on business topics, it was the first time you went out with a man who didn't brag about how hard his father had worked for him just to spend the money and that made you feel comfortable.
Jae Joon couldn't believe how comfortable he felt with you and how much he enjoyed sharing time by your side, in fact he felt like another person when you were near him, his outbursts of anger and that anger that he always felt inside of him didn't exist, you were the calm that he needed to be happy despite sometimes remembering why he came to America and it made him feel afraid.
Within a few weeks they had already lost count of how many times they had gone out, in fact they never counted the times they saw each other because despite his work he always found a moment to visit you or you took advantage of your free afternoons to go to the club and eat with him even if it was only a couple of hours that they could be together.
It was around April when both of them attended the art gallery of Sara, Jae Joon's friend who thanks to a charitable cause was able to exhibit in America.
You walked around the place taking his arm while you contemplated the colors and shapes of the paintings, they were so different from what you were used to seeing, sometimes, reacting excitedly by the combinations you saw.
Isn't it pretty? I had never imagined seeing flowers colored like that - you smiled excitedly while your arms surrounded his
Yes… it's pretty - Jae Joon sighed looking away
It would look good in a living room with a carpet of that color, maybe combined with several colors, I don't know… what do you think? - you smiled again looking at him only getting him to nod uncomfortably taking the phone from his pocket
Honey give me a minute, it's something urgent - he looked at you embarrassed leaving quickly while leaving you standing in the middle of the exhibition
This time it was you who sighed, maybe you were going a little fast and you made him uncomfortable, maybe he wasn't looking for anything formal and your comments were going too far
Your boyfriend left you alone? - Sara laughed sarcastically approaching
He.. he's not my boyfriend - you smiled shyly taking your bag with both hands nervously
I know, don't worry, it's not your fault or did you make him uncomfortable princess, Jae Joon is colorblind he doesn't distinguish colors - she smiled mockingly leaning on a table while drinking from her glass - didn't he tell you?
He.. he's colorblind? - your heart felt like it had been squeezed and even though you had never done it with the intention of making him uncomfortable, you couldn't help but remember all the times you had mentioned something about colors - I didn't… I didn't know, sorry
I know, he never mentions it, it makes him feel stupid - she sighed playing with her empty glass - when we were in high school, the boys used to make fun of his condition, the poor guy only defended himself when he beat them in the face
I… god I feel so bad.. I… I'm going to see him - you looked at her shyly, fixing your hair nervously
Go honey, rescue your prince charming… or something like that - she laughed drinking the few drops left in the glass, while you hurried your step leaving feeling the fresh air hit your face
A couple of minutes walking through the parking lot was enough when you could find him standing next to a small planter, his head pointing to the sky while he placed drops of a small flower in his eyes boat, the sound of your heels on the pavement made him turn quickly wiping the liquid that ran down his cheeks, possibly what he had placed as lubricant.
Doll I'm sorry… give me a moment - he cleared his throat turning his back to you embarrassed
Jae Joon.. it's okay - you shyly took his arm delicately making him look at you embarrassed - Sara… she already told me… I'm sorry for not paying attention
Sara… - he sighed rolling his eyes tensing his jaw again - that damn…
You don't have to be upset, it's nothing to be ashamed of - you smiled at him adjusting the lock of his hair that the breeze had disarranged covering one of his eyes - your condition doesn't bother me if that's the reason you hadn't told me yet..
His eyes looked at you quickly, his heart skipped a beat feeling something different inside him again.
Jae Joon was the man of your dreams, he was tender and attentive to excess, he remembered every single thing about you as if he had a notebook especially for you in his head, he remembered important dates even the ones you sometimes forgot
During April with the excuse of seeing the city from the top of the Empire State he took you to the top to see the sunset, in reality, he only had eyes for you completely ignoring the sunset and the buildings that adorned the landscape.
Do you know what we came for? - he smiled at you while hugging you from behind resting his chin on your shoulder
We didn't go to see the city right? - you smiled at him, suspecting his intentions
No, I want the whole city to know from here that my girlfriend is the smartest and most beautiful woman on the planet and she's only for me - his face was hidden between the strands of your hair that he was obsessed with the aroma
I'm not your girlfriend Jae Joon… - you laughed trying to look at him making him laugh
Then I'll ask you here so everyone knows you're mine - he laughed kissing your cheek - do you want to be my girlfriend?
Mm.. I should think about it, what do you offer me Mr. Jeon? - you laughed turning a little until you could hug his neck with your arms making him laugh again surrounding your waist
I promise that from today you will live the glory every day we spend together, I can even swear that you are the future Mrs. Jeon and nobody can change that
Then let's live the glory Mr. Jeon..
#park sung hoon x reader#park sung hoon imagine#park sung hoon#jeon jae joon#jeon jaejoon#jeon jae jun#the glory#jeon jae joon x reader#jeon jae joon x female reader#jeon jae joon imagine#the glory imagine#cho hyun ju#cho hyun ju imagine#cho hyun ju x reader
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"EVEN IF IT FEELS RIGHT, IT'S WRONG."
☆ CONTENT: An office AU where olderfem!reader is the secretary to Reo's father in the Mikage corporation, and she finds herself battling with morals and professionalism when Reo takes over as the CEO and confesses to reader in an elevator. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Office AU, trapped/forced proximity, confession, age-gap, reader and Reo almost kiss, reader is in her early 30's, Reo is in his mid 20's. Reader is abit cold and snobbish to Reo at first. Reader is a older female woman, implied that reader is black, reader wears a lace front. ☆ PAIRING: Olderfem!reader x CEO!ReoMikage ☆ W.C. 3.2K ☆ NOTE: This fanfic is based on the results of this poll–enjoy!
You have been with the Mikage Corporation for over seven years.
A loyal employee, one might say.
But you know it's because it couldn’t get any better than this.
When you were younger, you found it suspicious you had been handed the job on somewhat of a silver platter, but you never questioned it. You were fresh out of uni with a business management degree, bubbly as a cluster of bubbles, nothing could stop you. Younger you assumed it had been given to you so easily because you were fully qualified for the job. Which–was a factor, but if you asked your grumpy self now, you were still angry about the fact you didn't see the painfully obvious reason–that you were just a fresh object they could wear out until you needed to be discarded. And boy were you more worn out then a fucking used cloth.
You wanted to punch your past self for having this bright and colourful expectation of the world you were about to get into. A comfortable, easy life. Yet seven years later, all you had gotten out of this job was a reality slap in the face, chronic lower back pain, and the constant pressure and expectations from those around you made the outcome of your work feel personally worthless.
Working as Mr Masamune Mikage’s secretary was a hell you didn’t even want your worst enemies to experience. It was workload after workload, planning events after events, calls after calls. After a while of picking up the phone desk with slightly whitened knuckles, you had noticed fingerprints indented on the sides.
And his wife was the most, no, thee most insufferable person on this planet to try and please. She was never happy with how you were dressed, your shirt was never the right length, and your makeup was never right for her. (god forbid you caked your face with pounds of makeup.) And who needs to host a party for the company getting another deal? They get three of those each week, doesn’t the woman get tired being in those six inch heels all day? Or talking to other egotistical trophy wives?
You pride yourself on being the sole person who ordered those around, who filled out the important paperwork on behalf of the CEO, who made sure the project's deadlines were met, who answered all the calls from other professional and expecting businessmen–who sneered as they asked you to specifically get a male representative on the phone.
You clawed your way to your place as secretary, you sacrificed the person you once were, and became a shell of yourself to gain this basically top–of–the–hierarchy through blood, sweat and tears.
And then, his son takes over his position.
Yes, the Reo Mikage.
You admittedly didn’t have high hopes with him first refusing to take the position from his father, you started with the prejudgment that it wouldn't be surprising if half of the company ran into the ground the first month of him even stepping in his fathers office.
It irked you.
The fact he didn't seem to take the job as seriously as you did, and his father did.
One could say he was childish.
For a man in his mid twenties, and had seemingly been trained his whole life to take over his fathers company, he sure lacked the experience of actually being in an office and taking charge. He doesn’t run on excessive ice coffee and redbull like you–oh no, one matcha latte from the coffee shop downtown, and it's like he's energised for the entire day.
And you? Well, you just felt like a grumpy, slow slug the seven out of the eight hours you have to work.
It ruffled your feathers when he would ask if you needed help with your large workload, or constantly scolding you like some child for ‘pushing yourself too hard’. You had to bite back the glare you were barely holding back, if only it wouldn’t get you written up. In spite of that, there were–other things that would puzzle you. Supposedly like how he remembered it was standard routine for you to have a can of redbull after lunch, and how he would slightly chuckle at your surprised and confused expression as he placed the cool can on your desk. Because–who does that?
The way almost everyone in the office automatically liked him, like a magnet to metal, made your eye twitch. As a grown adult, you grasp the sense that you should restrain yourself, but it undoubtedly drives you up the wall when your openly cold attitude or sneering side remarks bounce off him and are instead met with an unwavering politeness. Despite that, you had found yourself subconsciously putting in…extra effort to look nice. Making sure your makeup was never cakey, your lace was laid, your edges were perfect.
You espied it too. The subtle glances and staring he thought you couldn’t see in your peripheral vision. You could almost kick yourself for subconsciously recognising the pattern of times he would do it, too. Such as when you are preoccupied with typing documents, speaking to other co workers, speaking in private meetings–
It's humiliating how many times you've almost stuttered in your speech, or your fingers pausing, hovering just above your keyboard. Just from his piercing amethyst irises alone.
Talking about his eyes—
They're very piercing, a beautiful mulberry when you're up close. And they seem to hold a certain sparkle of ‘capitalism hasn’t crushed my spirit yet.’
...
Fine. You admit it, he’s attractive. Conventionally attractive. The only funny part of your job was entering the empty printing room to begin shredding many love letters that somehow manage to find their way into his office daily. Filthy rich, intelligent, handsome, tall, and a CEO? Either he’s God's favourite or you're in a cheesy fantasy book.
But he’s way too young, even for you. Not only is it almost over half a decade age gap, but you had been called a hag too many times from middle aged drunk men when you rejected them. (Only after you had told them your age.) And not that you would admit it outloud, but it hurt your self–esteem enough to not even look in a slightly younger man's direction or seek out any relationships.(Not as if you had been in many.) You didn’t even have any wrinkles!
But these days, you quite frankly push those thoughts away and just bury your head in your work and avoid Reo–Mr. Mikage, now you mean–as much as you can.
It had been a long day, the overtime was almost overkill for your brainpower and body, but at least you would be paid for the two hours of overtime.
Your heels echoed ever so subtly on the dark grey carpet.The floor–to–ceiling windows on the left allowed the warm tangerine light to be poured like paint in the long stretched corridor, stretching out to every sharp shadowed corner and exposing itself. Everyone on the floor had already packed up and respectively went home, they did good work, finishing the project a day early from the deadline. Your brief gaze out the window had turned into a long take in of the world below you. The city buildings were also getting licks from the orange light, slivering its way onto streets and reflecting windows, passing civilians dipping in and out of the shadows and into the light to bask in its warmth. Your eyes flickered up slightly to the sky, overwhelmed by the smear of crimson and cantaloupe orange, leaving little of the sky blue that dominated the sky only a few hours earlier. The amber–tinted clouds flew by lazily, painting the perfect picture of a sunset over the city of Tokyo.
You snapped out of your smooth train of thought as your phone beeped, it was a message from your mother.
“Mommy misses you lots, hope you can visit again in the summer!”
You smiled sheepishly to yourself at the message, taking in the photo she sent you soon after, her and your siblings sitting on the couch, seemingly doing their traditional Friday movie night. There was a melancholy feeling that blossomed in your chest at the empty space at the end, where you would sit.
You quickly brushed it off, knowing that summer wasn’t as far away, and then you would be back at your childhood home again. You put your phone in the pocket of your black blazer dress, continuing to walk towards the end of the halfway. You approached the glass elevator.
Gently pressing the button with a down arrow with your acrylic nail, you stepped back at a respectable distance, thinking if someone were to come out so you wouldn’t be in their way.
You were pleasantly surprised as the heavy elevator doors opened to reveal an empty box, the glass from ceiling to floor allowing an in depth view of the city below. It was a relief knowing you were way too socially drained to have idle chit chat with a coworker. You settled comfortably in the corner after pressing the button to ground level, you silently appreciated the warmth of the sun's light penetrating from all sides of the glass. Watching the light split into its many spectacles of colours on the floor, you didn’t even notice the hand that stopped the elevator doors from shutting at the last second until it creaked, opening back up again.
You braced yourself for the onslaught of small talk you would have to have with a coworker, yet your heart dropped as you made eye contact with a familiar face, your body tensing immediately before you forced yourself to bow.
Reo Mikage.
“Oh please, you don’t need to bow, {name}.” His voice abashedly replied to your polite gesture, waving his hand casually as you stood up straight again, before he joined you in the elevator.
The atmosphere instantly felt heavier, to you anyway. There was this tension that was lingering in your chest, oppressive and clingy. The scent of his cologne only made it worse, Dior sauvage. It was a scent that was so signature, you would know if Reo had been in the room only moments prior, because it lingered. You swallowed dryly, trying not to inhale what you deemed to be the most heavenly masculine scent on this earth.
“Ground floor?” He questions politely, like he always does, looking back at you.
“Yeah,” you replied, not trusting yourself to say anything more than one word.
He presses the button once again before taking a step back, standing right next to you, his shoulder practically brushing yours. You felt the small sway of the elevator before it began to descend. You were on the top floor, and it would take a few good minutes to reach the ground floor without stopping on the other floors. You had basically stopped breathing by this point. He’s doing it on purpose, you swear. There was too much room to be touching shoulders at all, and his next words broke your train of thought.
“Congrats on finishing the project early, it's nice to know I can rely on you.”
‘Rely on you.’
It's the slight praise in his words and voice that makes your chest tighten, and you could see his head twisting towards you, his stare piercing your side profile, yet you stared straight ahead.
You laughed nervously, although his words struck a nerve in you. “Ah thank you sir, it was nothing, really.”
There was a beat of silence for a moment, and you watched his expression shift into something you couldn’t read. By this point, you were wondering if he was gonna drop the small talk here, but you felt an air of disappointment radiating from him.
“That's good, I'm glad you have no pressure on you for a while.” he admits honestly. Your lips pursed, and his voice grew quieter with his next words, as if he was hesitating. “I'm lucky to have you by my side, your company is a real treat.”
The way he said it, it was almost as if he was tiptoeing around his words, as if he was…testing something with you, like he was hoping you would pick up on some casual hint he was throwing. And you did. It was too intimate for your comfort, and when you finally found the courage to turn to look at him, he was already looking at you, and your chest tightened with a certain sense of panic. The boyish smile and charm had faded completely, only leaving a serious and almost desperate look on his face.
His voice was deeper, way deeper than it was before, it took you off guard, almost like he reminded you he really was a man. His voice was smooth and steady, and hauntingly calm.
“Why do you hate me?”
His question took you completely off guard, like a rug had been yanked from under your feet. He didn’t take his eyes off your face even once, your mouth opened and closed like a fish, pathetically trying to scramble for an answer in your brain. But before you could find one, he continued going on a rant.
“You never seem to hold a decent conversation with me, you're almost always tense and on guard when I'm around, and you seem to be even more annoyed when I try to make your life a little easier. Did I do something to offend you?” He questioned.
His accusations were so fast, and so many points were made that all you could do was look at him like a deer in headlights. He leaned ever closer, his gaze searching yours for some sort of answer.
“Did you hit your head?” Was all you could blurt out, but there was no hint of malice in your tone.
It seemed your choice of words surprised both yourself and Reo, as his eyes widening in shock. You felt your neck and face heat up in embarrassment, this was your superior! And you were damn nearly calling him stupid.
“Mr. Mikage,” Your voice cracking slightly, betraying your composed professionalism. “I’m so sorry–”
You were interrupted with a laugh, a loud, authentic laugh that left your apologises dying in your throat, your head reeling at his unexpected reaction. It left your heart stuttering at the break of professionalism he showed in front of you. He was doubled over in a carefree manner, your body still frozen from shock as he composed himself, letting out a loud sigh before he shook his head, turning towards you.
“See? I knew you weren't so stone faced.”
His boyish smile faltered after a moment, as if he was remembering the start of this whole conversation. It made your stomach twist for some reason. Why did you care about his emotions so much? His voice was steadier than expected for someone who was chuckling heavily only moments ago.
“You still didn’t answer my question, do you hate me?”
“Well–of course not sir.” You stuttered, cursing yourself as you looked anywhere but his face.
He stepped closer, his whole frame forcing itself to fill your full vision, making it almost impossible to look anywhere else but him. “Is it because you know I find you attractive? Is that why?”
You would have laughed at his words if they weren’t so full of firmness, a severe boldness you didn’t think he would have had yesterday.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. “Me?" you answered dumbly. “You think I’m attractive?”
“I do,” he said simply. “I find you extremely attractive.”
Reo Mikage, liking his secretary? You? Just someone who works under him five days a week? This must be a prank–but, there's no playfulness in his tone, none of the light teasing he usually did. Just pure, raw, sincerity.
And you couldn’t handle that.
“No.” You said calmly, your eyes fluttering shut. “No Reo, we're not doing this, not now, not ever.” His eyes squinted at the use of his first name, his gaze not wavering.
“I'm not lying. Do you think I'm joking? I’m dead serious, I promise you.” Before you could shoot down another one of his overthinking questions and thoughts he continued, “Is it because you think I'm spoiled? Or too childish, too young?–”
“Reo,” you said sternly, interrupting him more harshly than you wished. “We are not doing this here.”
Not only was he technically your boss, and your past boss's son, he was younger than you. You were old enough to be with his mother at social gatherings. And this wasn’t a fleeting confession you could just brush off with a lame excuse like you usually could do–he was your boss, and you were his secretary. You saw him mostly every minute of the day and there was nothing you could do about it.
“Please,” he begged. Suddenly feeling his warm breath on your face, your eyes snapped open to see him looming over you, his amethyst eyes had lost their once confident spark it always had, only leaving desperation and softness. “I promise, I'll take care of you.”
“I-I can take care of myself.” Your voice trembled, yet you couldn’t even hear it from the magnitude of your heart beating in your ears.
“You know that's not what I mean.” He whispered, his voice sounding more husky than before as he took a half–step closer to you, and his face was somewhat inches from yours. Your mouth was as dry as a desert, even more when his large hands came to gently rest on your shoulders. You could feel the searing heat emitting through his palms, through your blazered dress, making a lasting impression on your skin. It made your senses go on full alert, your head automatically tilting up to meet his eyes.
A deep part of your brain didn’t want him to take his hands off.
“I can take care, of you.”
His frame is so much larger compared to yours, and the faint smell of his cologne surrounds you again and envelopes your senses. You wanted to scream, lash out and pull him closer all at the same time.
“I know,” you declared finally, your voice hoarse and vulnerable. Your resolve was crashing down faster than you could think logically about the consequences. “I know you would.”
“Right.” he stated quietly, his eyes shifting to the side of your face; his right hand gradually sliding up, his rough fingers wrapping themselves loosely around a loc of your hair. “Your beautiful, {name}. Just give me one chance. Please.”
He pleaded like a schoolboy begging to be let off an after school detention. And by the time you realised his lips were centimetres away from yours, the manifestation of your desire had severely beaten the logical side of your brain black and blue.
“Okay,” you answered with a croak, voice barely audible, “one dinner.”
He smiled, hope–filled. Before he could get another word out, the doors to the elevators abruptly opened, making Reo scramble back to a safe distance as you were both exposed back to the hearty filled reception. He stepped out before you and walked away with an air of confidence and triumph in his steps, but not before mouthing a few words to you.
“Meet at the Lapérouse, 8pm. Wear red.”
・゚★ credits for dividers!: @anitalenia @enchanthings-a
Quandaledlngle69 © 2025
#☆…Light!Lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#reo mikage x reader#reo x you#reo x reader#bllk reo#reo mikage#office au#black fem reader#x black reader#black reader#x black fem reader#reo
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Summaries:
Maria wakes up in a lab and finds a small baby hedgehog in the next room, with the hallways crawling with monsters. Dazed, confused, and terrified, Maria and the baby she nicknames Nebula must find a way out. Meanwhile, Team Dark and Sonic find themselves teaming up when a G.U.N lab is suddenly abandoned.
Pirate AU: On the day of his wedding to the lovely mechanic Sun Wukong, naval commander Azure finds himself pinned as pirate Captain Macaque weds his groom.
Sonic Prime: Turns out there's one universe Shadow can enter, and that universe's Gerald asks for help before he can aid against Nine.
For years, Midoriya Izuku thought he and his mother were safe from the shadow of his father. People were safer with the distance. Until the day of the USJ field trip.
After learning about his parentage, Mikey sneaks inside an art auction of Hamato Yoshi’s art, learning both about his father and Draxum.
@draw-of-the-moon's LMK/Ninjago AU: When Red mysteriously disappears, Long Xiaojiao and pregnant Qi Xiaotian have to beat back suitors.
Scooby Doo, my incarnation: The first part of Episode 1, when trying to leave their hometown of Crystal Cove to start their second year of college, the Mystery Gang finds themselves trapped in Crystal Cove.
@draw-of-the-moon's LMK/Ninjago AU: While babysitting baby Firecracker, the ninja are called away to defeat a giant mech. Cole stays behind to watch the baby.
Due to a misread address, a missent letter, and some poor decisions, Qi Xiaotian finds himself trapped in the depths of the Playtime Co. factory. But he’s not gonna let DogDay be stuck too.
Red accidentally finds part of a very sexy scavenger hunt and accidentally ruins it. He follows the clues to apologize, only to find at the end a Qi Xiaotian bawling his eyes out bc the boyfriend he set this up for just dumped him, on their anniversary, before he could send the scavenger hunt. Smut.
Uncaring of timelines, several children's entertainment companies meet up during a convention, including Elliot Ludwig of Playtime, Isaac Indigo of Indigo Park, and Henry Emily of Fazbear.
#poll#LMK#Monkie Kid#LEGO Monkie Kid#Sonic the Hedgehog#STH#Sonic Prime#My Hero Academia#BNHA#MHA#TMNT#Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#Dawn of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles#DotTMNT#Scooby Doo#SD#SDTF#Scooby Doo: Together Forever#Poppy Playtime#PP#PPT
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mountebank chem pt. four teaser+moodboard (JYH x reader).
this mini series is part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.
status: wip (i still have a bit to go, sorry ya'll). chapter title: i love you, i'm sorry. word count (so far, more to go): 15.8k teaser word count: 1.2k posted: 01/26/2025 taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay
notes: hey everyone... how ya'll doing... OKAY, SO. I've been writing like crazy these past couple of days and I explained it in a post before but I just want to let everyone know that I'm a little busy with life, finding a remote stable job (or a job at all at this point) is a little hard, especially when the only thing you do succesfully is being a writer lmao. so I've been focusing on that instead of this but!!! I'm almost done with this chapter. I do think we're getting a chapter five, a shorter one, just to kind of explain how everything goes after the end of chapter four and that's going to be cooking as soon as this chapter goes live! ANYWAY. I wanted to give you all a little teaser that covers a little of what's to come in this one. it's my favorite one so far, too, so I'm really looking forward to you reading it!
remember that I have a permanent taglist form! that way, i can tag you in all my future works <3 also, if you'e reading this on the tags, here's my main masterlist and the mbc!masterlist if you want to catch up!
thank you all for being so patient and into the teaser we go.
Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t.
And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other.
“I hate it here, I truly do.”
It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work.
Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second.
“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?”
Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip with a literal mannequin resting against the wall.
You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company.
Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down.
“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.”
“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.”
“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.”
“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”
“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.”
“Cool, cool.”
There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already.
But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him.
You gulp.
He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare.
“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little.
“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?”
Shit.
“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?”
Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?”
Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”
“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?”
Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.”
“You’re shit at lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you—”
“Are you okay?”
Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time.
“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.”
“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—”
You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.
“What happened was a mistake.”
Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close.
“What?”
“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.”
Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again.
You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.”
“Well, it was.”
“I liked it.”
That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.”
You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse.
“Y/N.”
There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever.
And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration.
He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt.
“Hm?”
“I think I like you.”
Oh.
Well, well, well... If it isn't the enemy turning into a potential lover time. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THE TEASER. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!
© jensthwa, 2025.
#yunho x reader#yunho smut#yunho fluff#yunho fanfic#yunho icons#yunho hard thoughts#yunho hard hours#yunho x you#yunho x y/n#yunho ateez#jeong yunho x y/n#jeong yunho#jeong yunho smut#jeong yunho x reader#jeong yunho imagines#yunho imagines#ateez x reader#ateez#ateez layouts#ateez x y/n#ateez x you#ateez reactions#ateez yunho#ateez fanfic#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#kpop moodboard#kpop imagines#ateez imagines#ateez hard thoughts
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crossing lines | two
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC
Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?
WC: 3.5k
Warnings: terminal illness/declining health, mentions of death, surgery, emotional distress
A/N: here is the next paaaart. this one is a little serious buuut it is what it is. hope you enjoy it :)))
The Saudi Arabian sun reflected off the jewels adorning Livia Visconti’s neck—a diamond necklace that had belonged to her great-grandmother, the first Visconti to turn a passion for fashion into an empire. She observed the frenzy of the Jeddah paddock with a mixture of fascination and—she had to admit—a certain disdain. The roar of the engines, the mechanics rushing back and forth, the drivers in their fireproof suits... it all seemed like an extravagant circus to her, a noisy and superficial spectacle. But still, it was a spectacle—undeniably fascinating.
She was there for a reason. Casa Visconti needed Ferrari, and Ferrari needed Casa Visconti. It was a strategic alliance, a marriage of convenience between two of Italy's greatest and most famous dynasties, built on passion, excellence, and—why not say it—unbridled ambition.
Beside her, her father beamed with childlike enthusiasm. He had always been a passionate Formula 1 fan, a devoted follower of Scuderia Ferrari since the days of Lauda and Villeneuve. Seeing his company’s logo on those red machines, witnesses to speed and glory, was a dream come true for him. A dream Livia had made happen.
"Look, Livia," her father said, pointing with his cane toward the entrance of the Mercedes motorhome. Coming down the ramp was none other than Hamilton on a scooter. Livia couldn’t help but smile at her father’s excitement. "I need to get a photo with him!"
"Maybe another time, Dad. He seems to be in a hurry."
Livia continued surveying the scene, surrounded by her father’s PR representatives and a few employees who worked directly for them. Light conversation flowed between them, but then she saw Carlos.
She watched as he moved through the paddock, greeting team members, chatting with other drivers, signing autographs for fans. He moved effortlessly through the crowd with a mix of charisma and humility that surprised her. He didn’t seem like the same arrogant and distant man she had met in Monaco.
A pang struck her chest as she saw him smile at a young fan. There was something about that smile—a genuine warmth that contrasted with the coldness he had shown her. What had she done to deserve the way Carlos treated her? Something inside her, despite herself, always made her put her guard up when he was near.
Maybe because seeing him felt like looking into a mirror: the resilience, the raw honesty, the determination, the ambition... She knew how dangerous she could be herself, and perhaps that’s why she avoided getting closer to Carlos.
She forced herself to look away from the driver and turned her attention back to her group. Her father was engaged in an animated conversation with his PR representative, but amidst the excitement on his face, Livia noticed a fleeting grimace of pain.
“Dad, are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Yes, darling, I’m fine,” he replied, forcing a smile.
In truth, she knew he wasn’t fine. Recently, her father had seemed more tired, more fragile. His forgetfulness was becoming more frequent, and his health had declined over the past months. The doctor had spoken of “fatigue,” of “stress,” but Livia knew there was more to it than that facade of reassurance. The latest medical tests had confirmed her suspicions: her father was suffering from a degenerative disease, and while he was still in the early stages, the future was uncertain.
That’s why she had taken control of Casa Visconti, why she had become the public face of the company, why she had negotiated the deal with Ferrari. She needed to protect her family’s legacy, secure the company’s future, and, above all, take care of her father. The deal with Ferrari had been a personal challenge, a gift to lift her father’s spirits, who, after the diagnosis, had become a shadow of the great businessman he once was.
“Let’s sit down for a while, Dad,” she said, taking his arm. “You look tired.”
“You’re right, Livia,” he said with a grateful smile. “I think I’m getting too old for all this.”
They sat on a terrace overlooking the circuit, where they could watch the flow of the cars without the deafening roar of the engines. Her father seemed to relax, enjoying the spectacle and his daughter’s company.
“I’m so proud of you, Livia,” he said suddenly, taking her hand.
“You’ve become an extraordinary woman.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Livia replied, moved by his words.
“You’re strong, intelligent, ambitious...” he continued. “You have everything it takes to take Casa Visconti to the top.”
“I will, Dad,” she said firmly. “I promise.”
At that moment, she saw Carlos pass nearby. What was it about that man that, wherever Livia went, he always seemed to appear like magic? He glanced at them briefly, his expression unreadable, then continued on his way.
Livia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Had her father noticed the intensity of his gaze? Did he suspect anything about whatever it was that was happening between them?
“That young man has something special,” her father commented, a spark of admiration in his eyes. “Did you know that, despite being the son of a two-time world champion, he had to fight hard to make it to Formula 1? He hasn’t always had a competitive car, but he’s never given up.”
Livia looked at him curiously. She didn’t know much about Carlos’s background, only that he was a talented driver who—according to her sources—had lost his seat at Ferrari.
“He seems to have a strong character,” she said with some reluctance.
“He’s strong, yes,” her father agreed. “But he’s also humble. He never complains, always works hard, and treats everyone with respect. He’s a true role model.”
Livia recalled Carlos’s kindness with the studio staff, his patience with the photographer, his genuine smile. Maybe her father was right. Maybe she had judged Carlos too quickly.
“I’m glad he’s the one representing our brand,” her father said with a smile. “He’s a true Visconti on the track.”
Livia felt a chill run through her. A true Visconti? That statement unsettled her. Was her father comparing Carlos Sainz to their family members? Did he see in him the same qualities that had made the Visconti name legendary?
“I’m not sure, Dad,” she replied uncertainly. “I don’t know him well enough yet.”
“Give it time, Livia,” her father said with a wink. “Time reveals everything.”
The first day of the Abu Dhabi GP had vanished in the blink of an eye. Livia had spent the hours lost in a monotonous routine: watching free practice sessions from a VIP terrace, exchanging forced greetings with paddock acquaintances, posing for selfies with fans who recognized her. For the first time in weeks, she had found something resembling calm, though the incessant roar of engines and the bustle of the circuit conspired to remind her of where she was.
Yet she couldn’t get Carlos out of her head. His magnetic presence, the way his gaze seemed to pierce through her, that effortless blend of defiance and charisma… It was frustrating. Irritating. And, to her dismay, increasingly intriguing. She knew getting involved with someone like him was a disaster waiting to happen, but there was an undeniable connection she couldn’t ignore. For the first time, she wondered if the spark she felt was one-sided or if Carlos sensed it too.
Determined to clear her head, on the second day, Livia headed to the Ferrari motorhome. She needed a strong coffee to face the rest of the day. Entering the café, her thoughts about Carlos took physical form: there he was, leaning against the counter with a cup in his hand and that lopsided smile that seemed reserved just for her.
“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the paddock,” he remarked in a tone that was both mocking and amused. “Decided to stoop to common coffee, or did the champagne run out on your private jet?”
Livia raised an eyebrow, unfazed, though his comment brought a smile to her lips.
“Don’t underestimate my taste, Sainz. A good Italian coffee can be just as exquisite as Dom Pérignon—especially with… good company.”
Carlos responded with a brief laugh, but in that moment, his body seemed to give away. Livia noticed the color draining from his face as the driver swayed, steadying himself against the counter.
“Carlos?” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course… just a bit dizzy,” he replied, though his voice sounded weak.
Before he could finish his sentence, his balance gave out entirely. Livia reacted quickly, dropping her belongings and placing Carlos’s arm over her shoulders to stop him from collapsing.
“Carlos!”
He tried to say something, but his lips barely moved before his full weight fell on her. The café filled with murmurs, and almost immediately, a couple of mechanics rushed to help.
“We need a medic here!” one of them shouted, while the other supported Carlos from the opposite side.
Within seconds, Ferrari’s medical team stormed into the café with a stretcher. The paramedics quickly checked his vitals.
“His pulse is weak. We’re taking him to the hospital right away,” one said, placing an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face.
Livia, still processing what had just happened, watched as the medics wheeled the driver out of the motorhome. In the distance, she heard the sound of an ambulance starting, leaving behind a trail of flashing lights and unanswered questions.
Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out with trembling hands, she saw her father’s public representative’s name flashing on the screen.
“Isabella?” she answered, trying to sound calm, though the weight of the incident with Carlos still lingered.
“Livia…” The voice on the other end was filled with anguish. “It’s your father.”
A knot formed in Livia’s stomach.
“What happened?”
“He’s had a crisis. He could barely breathe, and his body… it just gave out. They’re loading him onto a helicopter to take him to the nearest hospital. It’s serious, Livia.”
The words hit like a cold, hard blow. Her father’s diagnosis had always been a looming threat, but this… this was real.
“I’m on my way,” she said without hesitation. “Send me the hospital’s address.”
“Hurry, Livia.”
She ended the call, and for a moment, the chaos around her faded. All that existed was the urgency to reach her father. Moving with determination, she left the paddock while searching for her driver. Everything else, even Carlos, vanished from her mind. Her priority was clear: to be with her father before it was too late.
Carlos had spent two days confined to his hospital room, recovering from an appendectomy that had unexpectedly taken him out of the Grand Prix. Though the physical pain had subsided, the emotional weight of not being able to compete lingered. He had spent hours talking with his father, who had stayed by his side at the hospital, trying his best to lift his spirits. But even the most optimistic words couldn’t fully dispel that lingering sense of failure. Just when things were going well, when he was proving that Ferrari had made a mistake in letting him go, everything suddenly fell apart.
It was three in the morning when hunger—or more precisely, a craving—pushed him to leave his bed. The hospital dinner had been forgettable, and now his mind was fixated on one idea: cookies from the vending machine. After making sure no one would stop him with a lecture about resting, he slipped out of the room. Dressed in a hospital gown over his pajamas, he carefully made his way down the hall, feeling the stitches in his abdomen protest with every step. Determined, he set off to claim his late-night prize.
The hospital was quiet, the stillness broken only by the low hum of the lights and the occasional footsteps of a night nurse. Following the signs to the nearest waiting area, Carlos finally spotted the vending machine. However, just as he turned the corner and approached his destination, something caught his attention before he could even decide on a snack.
There, on one of the chairs in the hallway, Livia was asleep. He recognized her silhouette instantly, even under the dim lighting. She was curled up with her arms crossed, as if trying to shield herself from the hospital’s cold air, her slightly tousled hair falling across her face. In front of her, the door to a patient’s room was slightly ajar.
Carlos didn’t need to look inside the room to know that Livia’s father, Damiano Visconti, was there. He had read the news about the health crisis Damiano had suffered at the hotel in Jeddah and assumed he’d been transferred to the hospital closest to the circuit—the same hospital where Carlos was staying. What he certainly hadn’t expected was to find Livia asleep in one of the chairs in the hallway, curled up like a child, looking entirely out of place among stretchers and nurses.
For a moment, Carlos stood still, just watching her. There was something unexpectedly vulnerable about seeing her like this, so far from the glamour and confidence she always seemed to exude wherever she went. The queen of fashion suddenly looked just as human as he did.
Without thinking too much, he walked toward her. Something compelled him—a need to check if she was okay, even though he knew she probably wasn’t.
He chose not to say anything and sank into the chair next to her, ignoring the sharp pang in his side that reminded him he wasn’t in top form. Shrugging off his hospital gown, he gently draped it over her, tucking it around her as best as he could.
This time, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly, blinking in confusion before focusing on him. For a moment, she seemed unable to register who was in front of her. Then, surprise flickered across her face.
“Carlos… What are you doing here?” she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep.
He smiled, trying to lighten the moment.
“I think I should be the one asking that. But since you insist, I was looking for cookies.”
Livia blinked, as if still processing his words, then let out a small, tired but genuine laugh.
“Of course. What else would you do in a hospital?”
“Well, sleeping in hallways isn’t really my thing.” Carlos motioned to the uncomfortable chair she was curled up in. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know… Ever since they admitted my father. Maybe 48 hours?” Livia shrugged, trying to sound casual, but Carlos could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“And how’s your father?”
She seemed to tense up at first but then exhaled.
“Stable, for now. The doctors say he was lucky to get here in time. But… I still don’t know how long he’ll need to stay.”
Carlos nodded, understanding the weight behind her words.
“It’s good that he’s stable. I’m sure he’ll be okay.”
Silence fell between them—not awkward, but heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Livia looked at him more closely, as if only now processing his presence.
“What are you doing here?”
“Let’s just say I had my own dramatic episode this weekend.” Carlos gestured toward his abdomen with a lopsided smile.
“Appendicitis. Sorry, I skimmed a couple of articles about it, but I didn’t really process it. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Not as glamorous as a mid-race crisis, but it’s what I’ve got.” Carlos sighed and made an exaggerated grimace. “Sorry for passing out on you the other day. Embarrassing.”
Livia let out a soft snort, brushing it off. Honestly, Carlos fainting on her in front of all the Ferrari staff wasn’t even the worst part of her day. She glanced at the gown he’d draped over her, catching the faint scent of cedar and lemons, and the way Carlos was awkwardly hunched to avoid straining his stitches.
“Thanks for checking on me.”
Carlos shook his head.
“It wasn’t planned, but I’m glad I did.”
For the first time in days, the weight on his shoulders felt a little lighter.
The silence between them stretched out, and Carlos noticed something in Livia he hadn’t seen before. There was a vulnerability in her expression, a tension barely held in check in the line of her jaw, in the way her fingers started fidgeting nervously.
Suddenly, her shoulders began to shake, and she dropped her gaze, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. Carlos leaned slightly toward her, alarmed.
“Livia?”
At first, there was no response, just a muffled sob that broke the stillness of the hallway. Before he could react, tears started streaming down her face—silent at first, then more intense, as if everything she’d been holding in had finally found a way out.
Carlos froze, unsure of what to do. Livia wasn’t the kind of person to allow herself this kind of vulnerability, at least not in front of others. His instincts told him he should do something, but at the same time, he was afraid of crossing a line she wasn’t ready to share.
“Uh…” he began awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s okay. You can let it out. It’s fine…”
But it wasn’t enough. Livia barely reacted, and Carlos’s discomfort grew. Should he hug her? Say something? What if she got upset? He didn’t want to push too far.
Finally, he sighed and set his hesitation aside. He leaned forward and, with a slightly hesitant hand, gave her shoulder a light touch. When she didn’t pull away, he took a chance and slid his arm around her shoulders.
“Come on, you can’t keep all that bottled up. Trust me, I’ve tried—it doesn’t work.”
Livia didn’t move at first, but eventually, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the tears kept falling. Carlos felt the dampness of her crying against the thin material of his pajama top as she buried her face against him.
“It’s too much,” she whispered between sobs. “My dad… this weekend… and now you’re here too. God, it’s embarrassing. I can’t handle everything—my company, my dad in the hospital, the board demanding answers…”
Carlos let out a relieved sigh that she’d allowed him to stay close. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, searching for the right words.
“You’re handling it. You know how I know? Because you’re still here, even with all of that on your plate. That’s more than a lot of people would manage.”
Livia lifted her head, looking at him with tear-reddened eyes.
“I don’t feel strong. I feel… like a kid. I’ve got too much going on, and I have no idea how to deal with it. I’m completely lost.”
Carlos leaned in slightly, offering a reassuring half-smile.
“Being lost is just a lie we tell ourselves. I’ve spent two days feeling like a failure because appendicitis knocked me out of a race, and here I am, chasing cookies like that’s going to fix anything.”
Livia blinked, caught off guard by his admission. Her lips twitched upward slightly, trembling from her earlier tears.
“Are you seriously comparing your cookie craving to my family issues?” she asked, attempting indignation but failing to suppress a soft laugh.
Carlos raised his hands in mock innocence.
“Hey, don’t underestimate the power of vending machine cookies. They could change lives—you never know.”
The absurdity of the comment drew a more genuine laugh from Livia this time. It was as if the tension she’d been carrying dissolved in an instant. She raised a hand to her face, wiping away the lingering tears with her fingers.
“You’re hopeless, Sainz,” she murmured with a small laugh, shaking her head.
“Maybe. But look, I got you to laugh. That’s a win for me.”
Livia leaned back in the chair, exhaling deeply, her head resting against the backrest. She glanced at Carlos out of the corner of her eye, her lips still curving into a faint smile.
“Thanks. Really. For staying, for… this.” Her voice softened, sincerity shining through. “I didn’t realize how much I needed a moment like this.”
Carlos propped an elbow on the armrest, leaning slightly toward her with his trademark lopsided grin.
“That’s what I’m here for. Although, to be fair, I came here for cookies, if we’re being honest.”
Livia laughed again, this time more freely, shaking her head.
“You’re impossible.”
“So they say. But hey, since you’re here, want to help me choose?” Carlos nodded toward the vending machine at the end of the hallway.
She looked at him, still draped in his hospital gown, and let out one last sigh—tired but lighter.
“Fine. But you’d better not faint again over a craving.”
“Promise. If I do, I’ll make it dramatic and give you a heads-up.”
They both stood, and although Carlos moved carefully to avoid straining his stitches, the air between them felt different. There was lightness where there had been weight, and though neither of them said it aloud, both knew that in the quiet stillness of the hospital, they’d found a small refuge in each other.
Taglist:
@smoooothoperator
If you want to be in the taglist, just let me know ;) 💚
#carlos sainz x oc#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz#f1 masterlist#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1
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Mythic Quest have this inevitable use of backstory that makes us love their characters so deeply because they give us no deep lore about anyone at any given moment except for their specific backstory/trauma based episode.
E.g. We perceived Brad as a cold, manipulative, sociopathic, closed off guy. His abusive brother turns up for 8 hours and he loses his shit so much it was the best acting Danny Pudi’s ever portrayed in his goddamn life.
We see C.W as a drunk, old, infamous writer - well past his sell buy date - until we see him in his youth. The struggles he entailed as an aspiring novelist, the way his mind used to work, the visions he saw that no one else understood.
We see Poppy and Ian as narcissistic, elitist creatives, always at each other’s throats. Then we see them as vulnerable children. Kids who had to work to get to where they are. Fighting so many hardships to find each other and to have a kindred spirit for once in their lives.
We see David as a completely open book. An executive producer who gets walked all over and tries to see the best in everyone. A man who’s so optimistic despite the fact he’s a child of divorce, had a drunk, abusive father, and had a traumatic divorce himself.
We’re so blind-sighted by the fact he’s also a suicidal depressive who drinks a bottle of wine every night to help him get to sleep because everyone else’s trauma is more transparent than his.
Which says a lot - considering we know next to nothing about the actual lives of these characters and what their exterior relationships to the company look like in reality.
It’s a hyperbolic realisation about coworker relationships, which is a stunning way to portray a TV show about the people who produce a fantasy role playing video game.
We don’t see what happens to David after a shitty day at the office. We have no idea where Jo lives. Does she live with her parents, or alone, with a partner? Brad?! That man is so ambiguous he could live in a junkyard for all we knew! Not that he would.
Their lives are kept so under wraps that we can’t perceive them in any other light other than their work personas a lot of the time. Which makes the idea of backstory so much more impactful.
#adhd rant#I’m genuinely so insane about the writing of this show#it’s some of the best most in-depth forethought writing I’ve ever seen#I could never be that good#the foreshadowing is nuts#the way they connect everyone together is even more nuts#and the way we know NOTHING about anyone is the craziest shit#it’s like they’re treating us whenever we get a backstory or a minuscule glimpse into someone’s exterior life#I’m truly obsessed#mythic quest#apple tv#tv analysis#media analysis#mq#ian grimm#poppy li#dana bryant#david brittlesbee#brad bakshi#rachel meyee#jo mythic quest#cw longbottom
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pirouette
ii. master
due to popular recognition, you have been requested to attend a grand soiree where you will be performing for countless of people. good thing your parents hired victoria housekeeping to watch over you.
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You smoothed out your dress as you sat at your parents’ dining room table. Due to your popularity and rising fame you have been selected to attend a grand soirée accompanied by other famous people. And, of course, your parents were insistent on getting you a bodyguard. Who they got, however, you weren’t entirely sure, but you were told to dress nice as you would be meeting them today.
“She’s in here.”
You could hear the muffled voices of both your mother and father as they escorted your would be bodyguard through the hall that led to the dining room.
You could feel your heart-rate pickup but you did your best to calm yourself as you straightened your posture and plastered an award winning smile on your face. Never show your fear, your mother would always say to you.
This instance will be no different.
The room to the dining room opened and you could admit that it was hard to mask your surprise when you saw Lycaon next to your parents. Out of all-
“Y/n! Darling! We heard from your manager that Victoria Housekeeping will be guarding your group on your next jobs, so we decided to get Sir Von Lycaon himself to be your personal bodyguard since the rest of his company will be close by. It definitely makes things easier and we don’t have to worry about multiple factions fighting over the job.”
Your mother happily chattered away as Lycaon came up to you, you were already pushing your chair back to stand. And now that you were level with him you were surprised at the height difference! He was taller than you expected as the stage you usually stood on didn’t compare anyone’s real height.
I mean, you barely came up to his chest for crying out loud!
“Sir Lycaon,” you said with a smile, “I’m happy that you will be guarding me. I hope I don’t cause you too much trouble.”
He held out his hand for you to which you hesitated in taking but lifted your hand anyway. Hid fingers gently pressed into your palm as he turned your hand over and raised your hand a bit as he bent down and placed a kiss to your knuckles.
“No matter what trouble comes your way, I will protect you, Master.”
Dead. KO’ed. Deceased. Arrow through the heart.
Oh, you were done for.
He let go of your hand as you managed to fight the heat that threatened to spread across your face as you turned to your parents. Your father being the next to speak up, “as discussed, your payment will be given in full once she is brought back home safe, sound, and in one piece without a single hair on her head out of place.”
You immediately deflated at the reminder of payment. That’s right, Lycaon wasn’t here because he wanted to be. He was here because he was hired and will be paid accordingly. In other words,… the reason he was probably at your shows and others was because he was preparing to receive multiple jobs that the entertainment industry has to offer. Bodyguards, and I mean GOOD bodyguards were always in high demand.
With your big fat crush on the man still weighing heavily on you, you did admit that it hurt to hear the payment part, but oh well, that’s just life…
“Of course,” Lycaon agreed as he checked his watch.
Multiple things were discussed after that. Times, places, just how close Lycaon will be to you, and among other things.
“Alright, I’ll see you both later,” you said as you went for the front door. While they were discussing more terms and conditions, you had taken the chance to change into more comfortable clothing as you planned to go out, but of course… you were stopped before you could leave.
“And where are you going?”
“Out?”
Your parents looked at one another before looking back at you, “then take Lycaon with you.”
You quirked an eyebrow, “I thought he was just my guard for the soiree?”
“We all talked it over and decided that it would be best that he starts now and stays as your bodyguard until after the soiree and he brings you home from it.”
You looked to Lycaon who was already standing up to be by your side.
“Well, alright,” you looked to Lycaon, “I’m going to meet up with some friends, is that alright?”
He nodded, “I’ll try not to disturb your day-to-day life, master.”
You wondered just how well this was going to work out.
#zzz#zenless zone zero#zzzero#lycaon#von lycaon#zzz lycaon#lycaon x reader#zenless zone zero lycaon#lycaon x you#lycaon x y/n
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I gotcha cap ( Steve Rogers x Reader )
Summary: it wasn't lost on anyone that Steve was a technophobe, who wanted to gain a grasp of the modern world, it just didn't help the little infatuation he had on his teacher.
Warnings : none , fluffy, mutual pinning , idiots in love. this is 2 or 3 parts
If anything America's golden boy and one of Earth's most prolific heroes needed improvements on was ...well the technology. Even though he'd be out of the ice long enough, the modern inventions just were something he didn't get the hang of. Of course, he'd asked his fellow Avengers, bucky was just as clueless as he was so was Thor to be fair. Natasha just outright refused her only argument for the rejection was simple
" For my sanity and your safety "
Tony was a no-go for his safety. The kid well he did try but ended up more confused at the slang the kids were using these days needing maybe a whole new lesson.
The best was of course last, Y/n. the newest addition although she'd been there two years now. She was up there with Tony probably even better when it came to anything electronic. She was able to hack the billionaire, only being caught because she wanted to. The company she was working at wasn't fully what she thought but hey it's why she took the job. She was an independent investigator that well noticed the fast rise of a company that seemed too perfect. So she got a job jumping through the hurdles, using her charm and charisma to integrate into the company and earn their trust then slowly she began to uncover the seedy secret they tried so hard to keep away. The wannabes were trying to be Hydra 2.0 only they didn't expect this newbie, the new office pet to uncover it all and drag them down with the click of her keyboard. The rest was history, now here she was living in the compound working in the lab with Tony and Bruce getting them intel and making missions that bit easier. The daughter of a former doomsday prepper and the skills she acquired of being alone well it was all that made her qualify and her enhancements helped to although that was a new title when she was growing up it was mutant. her father was one to hence why he was so paranoid , so ready to live in a bunker for safety of his family only to be the problem.
Y/n was sweet, she was friendly and patient. She was also funny, bold not afraid to speak her mind, strong worker. The beauty was everything and more that Steve Rogers could want so that infatuation had him almost nervous, yes nervous to ask her to help him with his problem. Thanks to Natasha's meddling he didn't have to ask because she took it upon herself to do so for him. A rare day off here he stood at the door of the main living room watching her setting up the various machines on the coffee table. The smile on her face was so bright and warm when she turned it made Shakespeare's words make sense. The way that smile was like a summer day. She was just simply an angel of perfection in his eyes, one that made his old self, the man before the serum who could barely look a dame in the eye or one that made his words jumble or stumble and stutter in a normal conversation. Professionally he was ok although he was still nervous but he was able to communicate clearly. Now here he was for a private lesson in modern technology with a woman who could render him speechless. This was gonna be hell, he was sure of it. Just as sure he was gonna make a fool of himself.
" hey steve ... cap?" she called making him stand straight .
" yes , yep hey " he smiled although forced through the flush of his cheek , in the start of what would be a barrage of self beratement .. internally of course .
" you ready " she smiled looking down at the table slight fixing the things laptop , phone and game console ? .
" yes sorry nats making you do this " he sat near her not too close but thanks to his enhanced senses he was encase in her scent .
" she not making me do it , dont worry cap i got you " she laughed . " ok i know you can write a report on the computer" she asked .
" y-yeah i can do the report but i because it like already there , tony made sure it the only thing so i just click , type and send " he nodded rubbing back of his neck .
" what about texting ? " she asked .
" no really well sort of " he shrugged .
" ok well we can go over the basics, if you don't understand anything don't be afraid to tell me so we will start with the phone from functions to standard apps " she smiled pulling the box out . " here this is for you " she handed it over .
" you got me a phone " .
"yeah, and I got you this ... open it " a mischievous smile on her face as she handed it over. Opened the paper and saw the blue red and white stars. It was like his shield but like a phone case. " I was gonna get you one online but I thought I'd make one a lot more sturdy and super soldier-friendly i got bucky to test it out in the testing phase".
Steve was speechless for maybe longer than he should of and for a new reason. Almost bashful looking down at it in his hand. So touched by the fact she took the time to craft and test this. The fact she took time to personalize it just for him.
" this is amazing thank you really " .
" no need to thank me cap i gotcha " she winked making his cheeks heat up.
The two sat while she slowly helped him set up the new phone, patiently step by step guiding him through what to do. In that time the space between the two, closer and closer while looking down at this device. The way she explained it to him and if or when he got confused she would show him again and again til he did. At one point the team stood at the door out of view of the two all sharing a knowing look. Peter took a few pictures maybe one to show them later in life. The way her attention was solely on the man although she could sense the extra eye and sure that the man at her side could feel them too.
" hey wanna continue this in my office" she smiled softly .
" yeah let's get this stuff " he stood quickly grabbing the different things scattered around them almost dropping them in his quest. Walking side by side and out of prying eyes they got to continue the lessons. He took a look around her office, her personal space. Little knick-knacks, pictures that all screamed her . Then when he looked at the computer slightly embarrassed in his own knowing how simple everyone had made it for him, how Tony made things easy from comms and devices nothing complicated more things only with a button or two. All the different little pictures or icons he recently learned scattered about. Now he knew he wasn't going to be some tech wizard but at least he wouldn't be clueless. More and more time he was less nervous he still was to a certain degree.
Weeks and weeks turned into months of lessons scattered between missions, meetings and public events. Although his knowledge of this was rusty, it was also still a vast improvement. Their communication improved and made her giggle when she would see at the end of each text -steve rogers. She tried to express that he didn't need to sign off on messages but she found it endearing in a way and completely, utterly adorable. She looked forward to the lesson, being in such a close space as Steven Grant Rogers was like a dream.
The blonde adonis was maybe the first and only crush she had had in such a long time. From his smile to his muscles that strained against the fabric. From his sweet and soft manner of Steve, to the strong protective manner and commanding presence that was Captain America it was virtually impossible not to fall for the man. Often thinking would he be Steve or cap between the sheets til she berated herself for thinking of a coworker, a teammate and a friend in such a way but on the same page she couldn't help the thought be in her mind.
next part
#steve rogers#captain america#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers fanfiction#steve x reader#steve x you#steve x y/n#bucky barnes#natasha romanoff#sam wilson#peter parker#tony stark#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel cinematic universe#marvel comics#iron man#black widow#bruce banner#hulk#winter soldier#white wolf#chris evans characters
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drarry - fake dating - muggle au
“Repeat what I just said back to me,” Draco instructed.
"Narcissa is your mother. I need to be polite, but not overly so because she can detect insincerity. Lucius is your father and is to be ignored at all costs. Ted is your uncle and a sworn enemy of your father, so they won't interact much, meaning he'll probably sit next to me at the table. Andromeda, the cool aunt, is sharp and may catch on to our act. Dora, the cousin, is laid-back and won't mention anything if they notice something is off. And then, of course, there's the forbidden aunt, Bellatrix. No mentions whatsoever. By the way, why bring up someone we're not allowed to talk about? I wouldn't have mentioned someone I didn't even know existed," Harry recited, kicking his feet up onto the immaculately clean dashboard of Draco’s obscenely expensive car.
Draco swatted at Harry's legs, admonishing, "That's dangerous, Potter. Ever heard of airbags?" as he navigated the sleek car through the winding, frosty country roads.
Rolling his eyes, Harry had a quip ready, but Draco continued his lecture before he could respond, "I told you about Bellatrix because forewarned is forearmed, Potter. It's better you know exactly what not to say instead of asking some insipid question like 'Do you have any other siblings?'" Draco explained, glancing briefly at Harry before returning to the road.
Harry leaned back in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips. "Harry."
Draco shot him a sidelong glance. "What?"
"Harry. You need to call me Harry, not Potter. I am your boyfriend, after all."
“Must I?”
Harry chuckled, “Well if you want this charade to be even the slightest bit convincing, you’ll have to make an effort. Wouldn’t want your family thinking we’re not madly in love, now would we?”
“Madly in love? Let’s not get carried away. Tolerably in a relationship is already pushing it,” Draco’s glare was piercing.
Harry grinned at the sharpness in Draco's words, the rigid posture he maintained, hands perfectly placed at 10 and 2 on the wheel. Pretending to be in love with the arrogant bloke would be a breeze, Harry thought; his real challenge was acting like he wasn't most days.
"So, does that mean open-mouthed kissing is off the table in front of your parents?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"I can't believe I agreed to this," Draco muttered, taking a sharp left turn.
Harry instinctively grabbed the handle, suppressing a grin. "Agreed? Malfoy, you practically begged me in the locker rooms to do this."
"Begged? I did no such thing. It was merely a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Mutually beneficial? So, what's the benefit for me, exactly?"
Draco scoffed. "The pleasure of my exquisite company, obviously."
Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You are insufferable, you know that?”
Draco ignored his insult, opting instead to reach for the dial to turn the music up a bit louder. 'It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas' filled the car with a sweet, smooth voice and tinkling bells. Harry turned to rest his head against the cool glass of the car window, taking a moment to enjoy the views.
The road was narrow, and every visible surface was coated in fresh white snow. Tree branches bent under the weight, and small bits of flurry fell from the sky. In the distance, cottages with windows aglow and smoke puffing from their chimneys added to the picturesque scene.
It was a pleasant surprise, spending time with Malfoy like this. Three years into playing on their university football team together, this was the first time they had spent any time alone, just the two of them, not surrounded by their teammates, coaches, and friends.
“How did your parents take it when you told them?” Harry asked.
“Told them what?”
“That you’re gay.” Harry chuckled, “I always wonder how my parents would have reacted, you know? Like if they were still here.”
“Potter, are you dense? This is me telling them.”
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Been rewatching the early Marvel movies and apparently this is the time of my life where I just get re-obsessed with characters I love so here's some random thoughts about Loki/Thor the Dark World:
Why. In the world. In the universe. Did Odin not ask Loki ANY questions when Loki was brought before him for judgement in Dark World? Like, at the BAREST MINIMUM he should have asked where Loki got an ARMY, the last time he'd seen Loki was when Loki fell off the Bifrost and then he vanished for a year and showed back up with the glowstick of destiny and an army that Thor says "are not of Asgard or any world known". ODIN. WHY ARE YOU NOT ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS?!
Like, we are aware that Odin is. partial to giving his kids harsh punishments. He obviously doesn't care about Loki's motives. Like, a good parent would look at their kid who disappeared for a year and then came back insane and be like "hey so what happened to you when you disappeared? you didn't get captured by a super powerful being and tortured into submission did you?" (Thanos tortured Loki I have SOURCES and I WILL cite them upon request) But even a bad parent who was a decent king would wonder how their kid suddenly got an ARMY out of NOWHERE and yet Odin never questions this at all. Even Thor in Avengers at least asks Loki "Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?" (which just shows Thor would honestly be a better king than Odin tbh) but Odin is just like "nah this is not important. imprisoning my son for life and telling him how worthless I think he is is more important in this moment."
I wonder if she'd had more time if maybe Frigga would have been able to get Loki to tell her what happened and if maybe that was part of her goal of visiting him (beyond just, you know, actually being a decent parent who cares about her child and wanting to keep him company) because we know she's clever (she's smarter than Odin good gravy, is there like an age difference between them is he going senile or something) so PERHAPS she thought if she talked to Loki she could puzzle out what had happened to him and find out if there was, you know, a potential universal threat Asgard should be aware of. And like, if she had found out anything what was Odin going to say? He can't actually punish his wife in any meaningful way (lol imagine he tries and she just grabs her two grown sons and leaves, help xD) especially if she found out IMPORTANT INFORMATION that he SHOULD have discovered on his own.
This does kind of highlight an underlying problem with Odin, where he seems to think that Asgard is invincible and is, well, lazy about defending it. Like, I've seen posts about how Loki letting the Frost Giants into Asgard in the first movie is actually him not just showing that Thor is not ready to be king, but also demonstrating that Asgard has dangerous holes in its defenses. Because yeah, Loki can HIDE HIMSELF FROM HEIMDALL and sneak into Asgard. Heck, he can sneak OTHERS into Asgard while he's not even WITH them. That- that is a security threat, because if anyone BESIDES Loki could do that then Asgard could easily be invaded and- wait a second, that happens in The Dark World! The Dark Elves hide themselves from Heimdall and sneak an invasion force into Asgard! Destroying it's defenses and KILLING ITS QUEEN. Like, my goodness, do you think Loki is the only person with these abilities? Are you even trying Odin? At all?
TLDR; Odin is an idiot for not questioning Loki about the Chitauri/where he was for a year between Thor and Avengers, not to mention an awful father and an incompetent king.
#long post#loki#thor#thor the dark world#odin#marvel#this is really just me dunking on odin akjlghjafhgsf#the more I rewatch the movies the more this stands out like#my dude why are you like this#he's multitasking he's being both a bad king and a bad father!#loki in the first thor movie is such a smol overwhelmed bean I want to give him a hug#thor 1 gets so much more interesting when you watch the deleted scenes with loki in them my word#I showed my parents the one where the asgardians made loki king and my mom was like 'THAT WAS TWO MINUTES WHY'D THEY LEAVE IT OUT'#because it was IMPORTANT#like. I'm not saying Loki was making great decisions that whole movie#but he was overwhelmed and highly emotionally compromised and felt trapped#he was doing his best#he's just quiet and doesn't yell his plans to everyone like thor so people suspect he's Up To Something#which might also be a little bit of commentary about how society favors extroverts#anyway#getting deep in these tags at almost 3am about movies that are 10-13 years old wheeeeeee
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Jandy Nelson, “The Sky is Everywhere”
#succession#web weaving#shiv roy#siobhan roy#kendall roy#roman roy#connor roy#kenshiv#kenshivrome#poetry#grief#i absolutely adore using shiv’s faces for these shes so unbelievably expressive#just her face says a thousand words in every situation#to me the ending of this can be interpreted as the fact that even though theyre technically free from waystar they will remain emotionally#stuck#to their father and his ways and His company#theres no getting out for them#in my opinion#its a maze with no exit
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