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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months ago

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A Royal Audience: The Rite

Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my full Masterlist is here Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.

Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror. The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me? It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.

Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.

Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like. A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No. Footsteps. There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out. Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut. The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges. “Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.

A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle. “Haste,” the first growls.

You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki. If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.

And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.

Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.

But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.

Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.

White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers. “Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.

You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight. You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.

The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles. Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.

The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.

As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.

Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.

You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.

You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening. “Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air. For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle. Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.

The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.

Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his- “Aren’t you cold?” His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.

“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.

With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation. “Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...” You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk. “I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie. The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”

“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.

“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water. “Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”

Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm. “I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.

“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.

This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”

He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.

Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.” Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.” Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.

His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.

It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?

The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.

The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.

You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.

Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine. “Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.

Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?” The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.

“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog. “Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.

“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?” “Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.” The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”

There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock. You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.

He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.

Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath. This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet. As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.

His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you. The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it. His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.

If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough. “S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream. “G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above. In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits. God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction. “This has been amusing.”

He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles. He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.

“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.

Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes. Risky. Even for me. He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight. “Brother?” Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.” “Of course not. I intended to join you.” Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms. “No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.” “Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising. If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says. His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.” A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.” “Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.” “The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.” Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.” A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”

Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.

“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”

As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.

He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before. “Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.

And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source. “Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.

💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x Read Chapter Two, Successional Pleasure HERE

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thebluester2020 · 29 days ago

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[GI] Kinktober Day 10: "Exhibitionism"

Summary: After your stunt with Tartaglia, you are forced to deal with the repercussions of Capitano's not-so-well-hidden jealousy.

Warning(s): Reader is fucked in front of an audience, Dub-Con, Degradation, (Probably a whole slew of other warnings that I can’t think of rn).

Side Note(s): Okay so—I switched it up last minute to exhibitionism because I realized that I get confused easily between that and voyeurism (+ I have more of a love for exhibitionism anyway).

Also, this is kinda an unofficial pt. 2 to the "Sharing" fic I posted? I mostly kept to the same "storyline"(?) because it was easier on the brain for me.

Your relationship with Capitano has been in a...weird spot, to the least, ever since that day between yourself, Tartaglia, and Capitano.

At the end of it all, the men didn't even get what they had originally wanted. You were far too fucked-dumb to even decipher who was who, much less come up with enough letters capable of yelling out a name. But, for the sake of being tired himself, Tartaglia had admitted "defeat" and carried on his merry way! Eventually, he left Capitano's war band and continued on his own personal mission, leaving you behind and working for Capitano permanently like you were originally supposed to.

But it's been awkward.

Capitano was curt with you, only speaking to you when he needed to. If you were caught taking a moment to relax, you began to pray that Capitano wouldn't happen upon you, he'd only immediately order you to get back to work!

No longer did he greet you warmly and no longer did he seem to care about your well-being. When the entire war party moved, he no longer expected you to be by his side, nor did he constantly check to see if you were! You could've been at the very back of the party and he wouldn't have given a single damn.

You had a mind to call your boss out on his behavior, pull him aside, and ask what the issue was and...whether or not there was still something between you both.

Although, you already had a mind to think that any feelings that may have started to blossom had long since been crushed underneath heel and foot.

Until today that is, when you were in your tent and finishing up some reports.

. . .

You quickly rose to your feet when Capitano suddenly entered your tent, bowing your head as you murmured a respectful 'Lord Capitano' in greeting.

He responded with a gruff noise of acknowledgment. "There will be a feast held tonight," Capitano said.

Your brow cocked, a feast? You hadn't heard anything relating to a feast at all. "Our efforts and missions have been going smoothly, I figured it's overdue to reward everyone in this camp. Even you." You bit the inside of your cheek at the cold way he addressed you. Had you known that accepting Tartaglia's offer—that rogue ginger-headed charmer—would lead to such an awkward tension between you and Capitano, you would've never allowed Tartaglia to trick you!

"...That's...that's kind of you." You said before sighing.

He nodded his head before turning to leave, prompting you to quickly stop him. "M-My Lord," You started off. "About that day...are you still—"

"I'll be taking my leave,"

"Lord Capitano!" You said more firmly this time, walking around your desk and beginning to close the distance between the two of you. "You can't continue to avoid me, n-not to mention treat me as I—" You stopped in your tracks when the first harbinger turned his head to look at you. And although you couldn't see his eyes, nor his expression behind that dark mask...the danger that oozed off of him. It made you audibly gulp as you took a few steps back.

You bowed your head in silent apology. "...You will come to my tent before the feast officially begins." Then, he walked out. A cold bead of sweat dripped down your neck at the vague order. Either it would be nothing aside from more work, Capitano deciding to kill you, or...hopefully, he'd finally get over his attitude and talk to you.

You couldn't stand how things were at the moment.

So, when the time finally arrived and the feast was ten minutes away from the beginning. You found yourself in Capitano's tent, your hands resting neatly in front of you as you stood at the entrance of his lavish tent. "My Lord, the feast will begin soon." You gently reminded him. "Shall I alert the soldiers of anything before it begins?" You continued.

You didn't receive a response until Capitano emerged from the covered part of his tent, adorned in the usual attire he wore when he appeared during important Fatui functions or battles. "No," He answered. "Simply follow me." Your brow rose as he walked past you, but nonetheless, you dutifully followed after him outside and back into the steadily warming air thanks to the bonfire that had just been set up.

As the soldiers began to gather, however, Capitano clearing his throat before he broke out into an, admittedly, very admirable speech as he thanked and showed gratitude towards his soldiers. Certain things started to stand out to you as your eyes washed over the crowd. Such as...the doctors and nurses of the camp weren't present, surely they deserved some praise and appreciation too? Too many times have soldiers or even your boss himself had come into the camp injured from head to toe! They'd quickly patch them up and almost seem to perform magic, you've heard soldiers state that one doctor in particular was good at numbing the pain!

There were none of the cooks, blacksmiths or even the younger soldiers that were fresh into the party, tasked to simply stand aside and watch.

All this boiled down to this "feast" being composed of nothing more than the more experienced soldiers, simply leaving you with a number ranging around the hundreds.

As pieces started to merge together although...a heavy hand placed itself on your shoulder, and then, you tuned back into the conversation. "...You will all bear witness as to my secretary learning who she truly belongs to, hopefully with an audience, she will learn not to be so easy for others."

What had just happened?

. . .

"Apologize." Capitano gruffly ordered you as the loud sound of your squelching cunt echoed through the camp. Not even the whistling winds could muffle your desperate panting as Capitano fingered your soaked cunt, taking special care to not knick you with his claws. "Apologize for being such a desperate whore..." He hissed out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "...for being so easy to fuck, not even having the courtesy to quiet yourself down despite being in a camp full of my soldiers."

Your cheeks burned with shame as you could feel hundreds of eyes on you. You didn't know whether you wanted the soldiers to be disgusted at the sight and turn away or if...you preferred this in a sick way, although there were some women amongst the crowd, the heavy sound of panting amongst the men made you clench around nothing, your slick beginning to drip and run down from your cunt and onto Capitano's lap.

Something that the ever-vigilant Captain didn't miss.

"You shameless whore." He snarled in your ear, your body shuddering at the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing the skin on your ear. "You're getting even wetter at being watched?" The harbinger nearly had a mind to laugh at how your legs twitched, as if you wanted to curl into yourself at his cruel words. He almost allowed himself to feel bad, until he smelled how your arousal grew at his words.

Oh...so you liked this.

Well...that explained everything.

Slowly, he took his fingers away from your cunt, a string of arousal still connecting him to you as he brought them up to his face. "So that's why you fucked my fellow harbinger." He sneered, opening and closing his index and middle finger, playing with your slick.

"H-Huh?" You moaned, both in disappointment and confusion. Despite the cold, your body burned with desire, one that grew more potent by the passing second as you felt Capitano's obvious hard-on behind you. You were grateful for your tears blurring your vision, for as Capitano continued to let you sit in his lap exposed to his soldiers, you at least could fool yourself into thinking that no one was paying attention.

But only for so long.

A scream tore from you as the Captain's fingers returned to your sex, his fingers dipping into your pussy before they had quickly found your g-spot whilst his other hand wrapped around your torso to begin flicking rapidly at your clit. All the air in your lungs were nearly knocked out of you at the rate of how quickly you were approaching your climax, your hands fruitlessly clawing at Capitano's forearms as drool started to dribble from the side of your mouth, your eyes starting to roll into the back of your skull.

"C-Captain..." You moaned. "O-Oh Archons...!" You keened.

He didn't relent. "Take it," He ordered as if he were ordering a soldier. "Considering you've taken me and Tartaglia at the same time...you should be used to the pleasure." He chuckled gruffly.

He tightened his hold on you as you squirmed. "Slut," He spat. "Quit squirming."

It was only when Capitano suddenly bit down on your shoulder were you pushed off the edge, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body stilled and your vision turned completely white. For a long while, you drifted on that cloud of sheer bliss...until you were brought back down by the feeling of something hard slapping against your cunt, snapping you back to reality before you were face to face with the harbinger's cock.

Starting off at a lighter color at the base before turning into a dark purple towards the middle and upwards at the tip. You shuddered when you remembered that Capitano's cock was inside of you...not even a whole two weeks prior! The ridges along his dick were intimidating, especially with the way it twitched and oozed pre-cum.

You gasped when he parted your cunt wider with his fingers. "If you won't apologize with your mouth..." He started off before he lifted you a little, as easily as he would carry a sack of flour before the tip of his cock pressed against your opening. "...Maybe you'll be more apologetic with your pussy."

. . .

Capitano didn't waste any time to wrap a hand around your mouth, although, the sheer size of his hand nearly engulfed your entire face. As he pressed you impossibly closer to him, he made sure to get really close to your ear as he spoke to you. "Make sure to look my soldiers in the eye as you apologize to me with this cunt of yours." He said before he slowly pushed himself into you.

Immediately, you broke his command, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head. Something that Capitano quickly corrected with his free hand slapping the side of your thigh. "Look at them." He reminded you. As more of his dick sunk into you, your eyes blurry and struggling to focus as you looked at the soldiers before you. You accidentally made eye contact with one of them, all before...your eyes glimpsed at his noticeably hard cock.

In fact, you noticed how all of them were hard.

Your cunt clenched tighter around your boss' dick at that realization. "Fuck—" He whispered. "You must've noticed, hm? How they all yearn to fuck you? My secretary." He continued.

When your pussy twitched at his words, he lightly pinched your side in punishment. "Greedy pussy...still eager to take more cock despite having me inside of you?" A muffled yelp resounded against the harbinger's hand when the rest of the Captain's dick was suddenly pushed into you. More moans followed suit as his fat tip began to poke and prod at your sweet spot, deep inside of you. "Don't worry, I'll curb your greediness soon." He whispered, the sheer possessiveness in his deep voice making goosebumps pop up all over your skin and down your spine.

More than you cared to realize, you loved when your boss was possessive over you. And that love only grew more when he started to move, his balls slapping against your skin as he took up a brutal pace almost immediately. You tried your best to keep your moans quiet when he suddenly released his grip over your mouth for it to take up stationing itself on your waist, aiding in pulling you down faster and harder against his pelvis. But it was so fucking hard to be quiet when he was fucking you like he was afraid of loosing you. As if you'd be gone the second this was all done.

"C-Captain..." You groaned. "F-Feels so good...!" You continued to cry out, blissful tears running down your face as you lost yourself in the feeling of his cock. Delicious sparks ran up and down your spine at the feeling of the ridges alongside his cock rubbing against your walls, your arms coming to loop themselves around the back of the Captain's neck as his groans started to become more and more audible.

His cock was touching all the right spots inside of you, making you see stars behind your eyes. "Fuck—" He snarled. "Archons...your cunt is squeezing me so tightly." He groaned, his head coming to bury itself in the crook of your head before he whispered more words you were too cock-drunk to decipher. You whined when he sped up the pace of his thrusts against you, your cock-drunk babbles turning from moaning to pleading for him to go easier on you, much to the harbinger's amusement. "Too much?" He mocked, faking sympathy as he fucked you harder in turn. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

He was suffocating you in the best way possible as each time his cock slid into you, it practically punched the air from your lungs, the scent of sex in the air making it feel like it was hard to breathe. But you loved it. You assume that's why your second orgasm snuck upon you so suddenly, the presence of people watching your boss fuck you silly on his lap...the degrading words he whispered into your ear in combination to the pleasure. It was all making your mind spin. "You're fucking tightening up on me..." Capitano grit his teeth together, his claws beginning to dig into your skin.

"Gonna cum?" He asked before he kissed the side of your neck, lightly nipping it as he felt his orgasm begin to approach as well. "Cum all over my cock then." He cooed, the feeling of his twitching dick battering against your cervix making you let out a few more strangled moans before you froze again him with a loud cry.

"Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck." He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm for a few more thrusts until he stilled against your still twitching pussy with a loud hiss of his own. You moaned softly as you struggled to come down from being dicked down, a dopey grin plastering itself onto your face as you looked behind you with both a happy expression and a shy one.

The harbinger, although dazed and hidden behind his mask, smirked confidently, the way he moved to run his fingers through your hair shockingly gentle.

He doubted you would want to go and find someone else to fuck after tonight.

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sleepy-steve · 2 months ago

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🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🪱🧠

thank you for the tag @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @wheneverfeasible and of course, anyone who wants to throw their brain worms at me ✨

thinking about modern au metal-burlesque performer eddie and audience participant steve (who was dragged along by robin probably, at her insistence that he would definitely enjoy it).

eddie is the last performer of the night, and so far steve has definitely enjoyed the show. robin makes them sit at the table front and centre, so the dancers have interacted with them a little, waving feathered fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, little touches and grazes as the performers step down from the stage to wander the audience. while it’s not really steve’s thing, it’s been a bit of fun.

then. eddie walks onto a pitch black stage. a red spotlight shines on him as a dark, heavy beat begins. eddie turns as the vocals start (music very much that filthy horny metal kind), and he looks nothing like the previous performers. he’s all tattoos and piercings and wild hair and ripped jeans and leather jacket.

steve is immediately starstruck. the whole audience is transfixed. eddie is one of those performers that does next to nothing and the audience just fucking eats it up.

letting his jacket hit the ground, he walks the stage, looking for his victim of the evening. he spots steve, in his glasses and pale sweater and soft swoopy hair and eddie zeroes in on him immediately. steve gets pulled up on stage and guided to a chair, where eddie (after confirming it’s okay) runs his leather gloved hands up steve’s arms and across his shoulders and down his chest from behind.

as the performance continues, steve is close to short circuiting, unsure how and when he became so revved up over another man teasing to take off what looks to be a band tee cut into a loose tank top, but here he is.

at one part, eddie kneels in front of steve, spreading his legs apart and head rolling towards steve’s crotch (an absolute classic) and steve speedruns his sexuality crisis right then and there because he’s gonna need this hot tattooed man on his knees in front of him forever.

eddie teases taking off his leather gloves, shoving his fingers from his other hand into the opening in a way that is so lewd. with one glove off, he brings the other to steve’s mouth and commands him to bite it.

holding the finger tip of the glove in his teeth, steve is helpless watching as eddie playfully pulls at it, like it’s hard to get the glove off, like having it removed this way is turning him on. he’s touching himself up and down his chest and panting, before finally letting his hand free of the glove.

steve quickly shoves the glove in his pocket as eddie moves to sit in his lap, rolling his back against steve’s chest, running his hands up his chest as he finally removes his shirt, only to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. eddie guides steve’s hands to his chest—steve feeling the nipple piercings hidden beneath—and lets steve unclasp the bra from the front.

the show is over way too soon, with eddie tossing the bra into the crowd. eddie brings steve up to bow, the audience going absolutely crazy for them. guiding steve back down off the stage, eddie gives him a cheeky smile and a wink before disappearing offstage.

robin is losing her whole mind over all of it, and steve is kinda sad that he won’t get to see eddie again. but robin points out that he just might get to.

because steve still has the leather glove in his pocket.

#this was a really fun idea to play with #and maybe…….maybe i wrote something more detailed on this #i will probably never get to a wiggly wednesday on an actual wednesday lmfao #cira writes #wiggly wednesday #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic

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speed-world · 3 months ago

Note

do you think you could do one with Shadow milk cookie x reader, where reader is like his stage assistant, hypeman, supporting role kind of thing, reader is like fully fine with atrocities shadow milk

maybe something with like reader also having been sealed separately from the beasts so shadow milk would probably have to try and find where reader was sealed while the brave and others were running around

- :D

His partner in crime

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were almost like The Joker and Harley Quinn (minus the cycle of abuse-)

He always loves and appreciates whenever you help him out in setting up a play. Whether that be designing the characters with him, arranging the props and stage in the best condition, and even just rooting for him!

There are even times when you help him write out the script for his plays, which he adores so so very much!!

He’ll always make a point to credit you in the most dramatic and loving manner whenever you help him. And boy do I mean dramatic-

“Thank you all so so so so much for enjoying the show! But the real star that deserves the glory is my dazzling, extraordinary, and adorable~…Y/N Cookie!!!”

A giant spotlight was cast on you as confetti and ribbons popped out all over the audience. You smiled and bowed as Shadow Milk applauded you, and after a while, everyone started applauding you!! If they didn’t, then the jester made sure they would cheer for his assistant…”

There are times where in the middle of his performance, he allows a pause for you to applaud and cheer and for him!

Of course, all of the audience is free to do the same whenever that brief moment comes, but usually it’s only you. Granted, all he cares about is your praise and appreciation, so he doesn’t care if you’re the only one clapping for him.

When he was imprisoned by the Witches, you were…displaced. The Witches knew your connection to Shadow Milk, and sealed you to the far ends of Earthbread outside of the Beast-Yeast continent.

Shadow Milk was furious beyond belief when he saw you being sealed up too. You weren’t a Beast or did anything wrong like he did, so why were you being punished like this?!

It hurt him so much, especially because he couldn’t do anything but sit in that dang tree…

Granted, this wouldn’t stop you from doing everything you could to get back to Beast-Yeast, or more get back to Shadow Milk

When you two were finally reunited in the Faerie Kingdom, after both your seals were broken down, you both ignored GingerBrave, Elder Faerie, and everyone else there and went to a discreet place to yourselves.

While you were reconnecting the lost time, he told you about Pure Vanilla and the Witches, and you’d be right there to hold him if he got shaken up or cried when mentioning them. You hated the witches and Purr Vanilla Cookie just as much, if not more than he did.

When Pure Vanilla and his company caught up to you, it was you who personally a play where certain caricatures would reference the witches, Pure Vanilla, or any others that Shadow Milk wasn’t fond of. You wouldn’t have any mercy in disrespecting said caricatures in the plays, which Shadow Milk loved and cheered for!!

No matter what, you were always there to support Shadow Milk and his crazy antics. He would do the same, loving you and being with you through every single thing.

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader

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arkhammaid · 9 months ago

Text

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE LIVERY LAUNCH

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the stark racing f1 team launches their livery

content warnings. written in 3rd person/lowercase, written + smau, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.8k + smau parts

notes. the main arc begins!!

y/n doesn't do nervous. not as l/n, not as stark- it's simply not in her nature. yet when the lights dimm and the audience starts to grow silent, her heart was up hear throat and she tried to dry her sweaty palms on her race suit.

"there is no need for that", muttered her teammate right behind her and she almost jumped. she glared at him, but he just grinned and gave her two thumbs up.

"don't do that, it makes you look old." he immediately put them down and she snorted.

"alright, you two, are you ready?" a stark employee, more specifically a stark racing employee, ushered them across the backstage all the way beneath it, ready to push them to the big event.

the car launch. the livery reveal. the introduction of stark to formula one, probably the most anticipated event of the year. unlike the other teams, they've been teasing the public for several weeks now, nothing concrete. speculations were all over social media, no one was even sure what main color stark racing would have, something the marketing team was very proud of.

now they would not only reveal the car, which would dominate the season (because- who are they kidding? they definitely will) but also the branding and race suits, and officially appear as drivers in one place.

the music started to play, the room darkened and the lightshow started. but y/n couldn't see anything of it happen. instead she was guided to the platform, which would bring her on stage, and put her helmet on.

a whole minute they would have to wait, a pre-recorded speech entertaining the guests and viewers all around the world, until she and kevin would appear in total darkness.

and they did. the platform brought them up silently, the room blacked out completely, until the lights behind them flashed on, shining on their backs.

the whole thing could be described as dramatic, over the top, but it fit. it fit the name, her father, herself. to show up with a bang.

"introducing... our drivers. y/n l/n-stark, number 95 and kevin magnussen, number 20! a round of applause everyone!" thunderous applause filled the giant room, people started to shout, when they finally took of their helmets.

with a grin, y/n spread her arms, raising her head and then her helmet over it. she stood proud and tall, all stark.

an assistant rushed to the stage, taking their helmets, to allow them complete freedom during their part of the reveal. y/n immediately took over, as it had been planned.

"welcome everyone, to the official launch of stark racing formula one team! i'm honored to introduce to you not only the car itself, but also the team." with a wide grin, she turned to kevin, who nodded to her.

"i'm sure you've all waited for him, our team principal, four-times worldchampion... sebastian vettel!" the room thundered again, cameras flashed, when seb walked on stage to stand between the two drivers. he waved to the crowd and bowed with a laugh, when they wouldn't stop cheering.

"thank you, thank you. wow, what a welcome! i'm very happy to be here, it has been a few years... but now we're back- and i'm thankful for the oppurtunity i've received. y/n, kevin... to a good season. to our fans, we all thank you for your support you've already showed, it's been incredible so far!"

"it's a special occasion, for all of us. and we have something very special for you", y/n winked, while slowly walking backwards, until she stood right in front of the gigantic screen, lightly knocking with her knuckle on it. a ripple animation waved across the screen and the room dimmed again. hushes were heard, when the sound of whirring filled the room, carried by the speakers.

another platform was brought up, the car. hidden by dark, silky fabric, it stood in the middle of the stage, ready to be revealed.

"ladies and gentlemen... the first car completely engineered by stark, for the stark racing formula one team... welcoming to the world, the SR-1!"

with that, kevin and y/n slowly began to lift the fabrig from the car, revealing a blinding white livery. lines of chrome streamlined it, the name stark proudly stood on the sides of it.

"it's mine, by the way", y/n joked and pointed on the number 95, after the crowd calmed.

"har, har", kevin drily replied, but he couldn't hide his grin.

"welcome, everyone... to the future!"

YNSTARK

liked by tonystark, charles_leclerc, mickschumacher and 7'973'331 others

ynstark happy valentine in white ;)

user what a perfect way to end valentine

user MOMMY, SORRY, MOMMY-

lancestroll The launch was incredible 👏

tonystark This is my daugher!

⤷ ynstark this is my dad <3

peterstark ew, your face on my dash....

⤷ ynstark i will block you

⤷ peterstark i will tell pepper

⤷ ynstark *blocked*

user white is such a good color on her??

user i just fell on my knees in the middle of the street

sebastianvettel You're incredible, I'm excited for our future!

⤷ ynstark STOP you're making me cry 😭

⤷ ynstark @/charles_leclerc look at this, your grid father loves me more than you

⤷ charles_leclerc That's not true! You better take it back!!

zendaya what a beauty 🤩

⤷ ynstark no, you!!

user we got the arm spread and the wink, now i'm waiting for the iconic peace sign

user white stark era, white stark era, WHITE STARK ERA!!!

user the bitchfighting with her actual brother and her grid brother is EVERYTHING to me

⤷ user oh my god you're right, charles and y/n are grid!siblings...

⤷ user IM WAITING FOR DAD SEB, YOU HEAR ME I'M WAITING

starkracing Our future champion!

⤷ ynstark hehehe

user red bull has been oddly silent

⤷ user they're all trying to stop christian from committing a crime

⤷ user or drying his never ending tears

⤷ user LMAO I CAN NOT

user half of the grid in the likes... i fear y/n is becoming the it girl fr

user these comments are a goldmine

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 female driver #fem!driver #female driver #f1 scenario #f1 fanfic #tony stark x reader #kevin magnussen x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x female reader #marvel x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track

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allfearstofallto · 2 months ago

Text

Illusion

Yandere! Lyney x Fem,Dancer! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: if this story seems similar to "I wonder if you look both ways..." It's cause this is the original. I scrapped it, but when reading it again I realized that I was very stupid to do that cause I like it. They're sisters, but not twins, they both can be enjoyed.

A magician's job is to lie. To convince you that there are wonders of the world that the human eye can't decipher. To entertain and entrance an audience of people, all while they stare in awe. Their eyes having a look of simultaneous confusion and scrutiny, they'd try to pick the trick apart, only to fail and be even more impressed by their inability to solve the puzzle. The job of a magician is to endure all of that inspection from prying eyes, but still make it look captivating.

Your job was to draw attention. That's what Lyney told you the day you were hired. They were set to perform at the opera house again, the biggest stage in Fontaine, but this time it would be an even more grand performance, this time, there would be no issues. With an area so large, they needed to maximize as much space as possible, there didn't need to be a moment of time where the audience had to question what was coming next. That's where you came in.

When the music came to a crescendo, cymbals crashing and violins singing at their loudest harmony, you'd be dancing, leaping all over. Graceful as a swan, but with enthusiasm that made your moves look more playful. Hopefully that would be enough to keep the eyes on you as Lyney rushed to the other side of the stage to complete the performance in an escalation.

You'd never done something like this before. Actually, you'd never danced professionally. Not yet at least. This would be your first real show. A fresh face right out of ballet school with nothing to your name, but a few school performances, none of which you were granted the leading role for. Who would give you a chance? Who else, but Lyney and Lynette who needed a dancer on rather short notice.

Lyney, who said your dancing was mesmerizing. But not in his usual, eccentric voice that would draw the crowd. He was talking quietly, in a breathless whisper as he spoke. Mesmerizing. His eyes glued onto your form as you panted after your audition, wide and entranced. You gave them a nervous bow and a heartfelt appreciation before exiting stage left. What you felt like was a mediocre performance where you messed up too much, was what landed you your first real gig.

Your choreo was simple, most of it you came up with yourself, with the twins giving minor input here and there. Raise your leg here, jump there, when you twirl, go in this direction. It was much easier than the strict, uptight teachings of school, where your instructors insisted that the real world would be harsher than they were. You weren't needed for a good majority of the performance, so nothing especially skillful was required until the very end.

“I'd like to see an addition to our set,” Lyney announced. His hands on his hips, he spoke proudly, but while sneaking quick glances towards you, “I feel like we're not utilizing our new resident dancer enough. I think we need to add a slight change to the choreography.”

There was no issue with this, they were your employers after all. You did your best to make it known to them that you were flexible in every aspect. It was their show. Anything they needed to be done, you'd do your best to accommodate.

The move the blond added was simple. As you stood on your toes on one foot, your other leg would be out straight behind you. Lyney would step forward to take your hand, then he would walk around you, turning you both in a slow circle while addressing the audience to prepare them for his next illusion. Like a ballerina trapped in a music box, you spun to the creeping swell of the music alongside him.

The addition was not even close to difficult, a move you'd done a million times before and would probably do a million more in the future. But this was the first time that you'd touched Lyney. The separation between you two gave you no reason to do so. His hands were cold, yet clammy and it was only when you were this close to him, that you noticed he smelled of plums. You could feel his heart beating in his fingertips and even see a little sweat on his forehead, you chalked it up to nerves though. Even those who have performed a thousand times before can fall victim to tension.

“Would you mind if I put my hand on your waist when we did that move,” he asked you one day between practices. He was hesitating, but still playing up his confident attitude.

A hand on your waist was nothing. You'd had to be close to other dancers plenty of times, and the turn did look a bit awkward with Lyney just having his hand at his side, but you thought that that would be the ample time for him to do a quick card trick or sleight of hands to spice things up, “That would be alright.”

The turn was practiced with the change. To you it felt no different, like an average day back at the academy. The real difference was Lyney himself. With that gentle hand on your waist, so soft it felt like he was hovering his hand over your body and not touching you at all. His cheeks had reddened, the first time you'd ever seen the great magician Lyney blush and you could feel him trembling, but just barely, like he was shivering from cold.

Eye contact with your partner is good when you're dancing a duet. It gives the appearance of chemistry, but eye contact with a crowd is mandatory when engaging with them. Despite this, for the entire duration of the turn, Lyney’s vibrant purple eyes would be locked with yours, not looking away for a second, not until the spin was complete and it was time for your solo.

Even you couldn't bring yourself to hold his gaze, not with the strange way he was smirking. Midway through the spin, when your back was facing the audience, you'd look down to not have to be staring at him anymore, a move that made him squeeze your hand to the point of causing pain. You held back a yelp to keep from causing a scene, it was an accident, it had to have been. He wasn't realizing his own strength.

When he let go, you began your energetic dance, twirling around the floor while music vibrated at your feet. You could hear the sound of Lyney's prop going off, the signal that the song would end in a triumphant climax and the show was over. You dropped from your ending pose and turned to see the remnants of the ending. Realization hitting you that the confetti had fired, but Lyney wasn't there.

Rather, he was still close to you, having only taken two steps back and seemingly frozen in place right there. Lyney had missed his cue. He was a perfectionist. Even though he knew things would and could go wrong, and he was a bit of a stickler when it came to things like this. It was the big moments, the parts where the audience would be in the most awe. With flashes, pops, and bangs to draw their attention, then he'd be there to take the brunt of the cheers. These moments were some of the most important.

The way he stood there behind you, eyes on you like you'd put a spell on him. Barely moving, barely blinking, like he was trying to drink in every piece for your form. He shook himself from this trance rather quickly, giving an embarrassed smile, “It appears that I've fallen for the distraction,” he laughed rather brazenly, “Well at least we know she's good at taking the attention! Let's take a break and start from the top again, yeah?”

There was a unanimous choir of groans that filled the room while Lyney chuckled. You were rather grateful for the break. You needed a moment to breathe and collect yourself. Most importantly, to think of what had just happened. The rational part of your brain wanted to tell you that you were overthinking, that Lyney wasn't acting strange at all, but the paranoid part of you couldn't help, but notice the way he stared. Not just when you were dancing, but whenever he got the chance to.

You'd look over and see bright purple eyes on you, seemingly unblinking. If you caught him in the act he'd give you a smile and a wave, making you feel as if you'd misunderstood. But that didn't stop the sinking feeling in your chest, he was acting normal, but intuition was telling you that something was off.

Almost as if he knew you were thinking of him, Lyney appeared. He stood a little too close to you, that gentle smile on his face. “Sorry for messing up back there,” he whined a little, then rested his head on your shoulder.

You flinched from his touch and tried to step away from him, but his arm snaked itself around your waist before you could. And Lyney was much much stronger than he looked. A nervous chuckle left your lips.

“It's alright, it's just practice after all,” you assured him.

“You're right,” he sighed. It felt like his hand was sinking, lowering to your hip while he continued the casual conversation, “I just want to impress you.”

Words got caught in your throat as you tried to choke up a response. What were you supposed to say? What could you say? A part of you wanted to brush this off as flirting, maybe you'd given him the wrong impression with something you'd said or done, but you couldn't even open your mouth to tell him otherwise.

“I have something for you,” Lyney gave a signature grin, lifting his hat from his head. Almost immediately a few cards fluttered down onto the floor around him while he gave them a confused, almost embarrassed stare, “Well that's not right,” he joked. He was performing. Right in front of you, Lyney was putting on a little show to charm you. Reaching into his pockets and pulling out much too large objects, only to magically put them back while cursing comically.

“There we go!” He cheered while holding a single rose that he'd managed to yank from his sleeve. He reached it out to you, waiting for you to grab it. The bud was surprisingly real, usually this trick was performed with fake flowers, the real ones would die too quickly. When you went to take it, he flicked the flower, making that singular rose turn into a bouquet. So close to the magic, but your mind couldn't decipher how he'd done it, even you were dumbfounded, “One isn't enough for you.”

You held the bouquet in awe as Lyney walked away proudly. He stepped backwards the whole time, not taking his eye off of you for a second until practice was set to start again, but this practice was different. He was finding more and more ways to sneak glances at you and more ways to brush up against and touch you.

The day of the performance was one that was considered nice in Fontaine. There was rain, but it was a light drizzle, light tears from the hydro dragon. It was believed that a good performance on this day would cheer him up.

And a good performance Lyney was set to give. You were backstage in a costume so tight it practically corrected your already good posture, and with so many sparkles, you were convinced that if the lights hit you the wrong way it'd blind the audience. He was most impressed with what he'd chosen for you to wear, stealing glances at you as you went through the choreo once more.

The lights felt hot. That's all you focus on as the show began. The acclaim of the crowd blended in with the vibrant music and the only thing you could think about were how hot the lights were. But you still performed. Your simple moves first. Light spins and little jumps, placeholders as Lyney and Lynette mesmerized the audience.

You did your best to keep up, they seemed to be performing even stronger now that there was focus on them. Your heart was pounding as the time came closer and closer to your solo, the idea of messing up suddenly grazed your mind. But before your solo, there was Lyney.

He stepped up to you, not looking away for a second. His chest was rising and falling rather quickly, he was tiring himself out, but his actions were still fluid. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did, just as you'd practiced.

Only this time before the turn began, he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss against it. The urge to snatch your hand away was crushing. Confusion and fear filled your head. This wasn't a part of the show. This was never practiced before. Had something changed without being announced to you?

“Everyone! Thank you for coming tonight,” Lyney called to the audience followed by a round of applause for him, “The next trick will be my last and I'm so sorry to leave such a gorgeous crowd, but I want everyone to give a round of applause to my ma chérie! Thank her for being here as well!”

Your eyes danced around in confusion, trying to find who he was talking about as the crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers, only to realize that he was looking at you. To pour more salt into the wound and reiterate that he was talking about you, he lifted the hand he was holding, an action you could only let him do as bewilderment set in.

With those vibrant eyes still on you, he faced you, still smirking. He grabbed you by the waist then pulled you towards him, leaning down to place a kiss upon your lips. You couldn't hear anything over the cheers and screams of the audience, couldn't even hear your own heartbeat. But you felt it. Felt that heavy pounding as Lyney stroked your cheek in a romantic gesture before marching off to complete the set.

The music. As your head swirled and your eyes lost focus, you tried to pay attention to the music. It was time for your solo. You danced. Danced like hell, danced the choreo you created as the music swelled. But it wasn't really you dancing, more muscle memory than thought. And then it was over. Lyney appeared on the other side of the room, confetti was fired, and there was a standing ovation from the crowd. Everything was perfect.

Everything except your fearful face. The tears your eyes. Your look of worry as you looked back at your fellow members, then taking their bows as the curtain fell. They seemed so normal about what happened.

“What the hell was that?” You managed to ask, but instead you were only met with confused looks.

“What ever could you mean, ma chérie?” Lyney had taken your hand, but you pulled it back quickly, the watchful eyes of the audience no longer swaying you.

“This!” You gasped. You felt crazy trying to motion to everything around you, everything that was wrong, “All of this! You kissed me out there!”

“What's the problem with that?” It was Lynette talking now, her usual calm demeanor not seeming to be perturbed by your hysteria, “A kiss was always in the script.”

You gulped down saliva, trying to stop your beating heart and shallow breathing. Everyone was so calm and collected. Yet here you were, confused and practically causing a scene.

“Are you alright, ma chérie,” Lyney asked, stroking your cheek again. There was a look of genuine worry on his face, but all you could think about was that name. That fucking name. Has he always called you that? “You seem rather upset? What bothers you?”

“None of this is making sense,” you muttered. But you weren't really talking to him, more trying to calm yourself. Being surrounded by people who insisted upon lying to you was making doubt swirl in your mind. Had you misunderstood something? Were you truly the one confused? In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth, yet here you were, still being told otherwise.

Around you everyone was doing as normal. The stage hands had already begun packing up, with you standing there dumbfounded. You're sure you would've stood there until the end of time, had Lyney not taken your hand and begun to pull you out of the opera house.

The air of fontaine still had that salty smell to it, but the light drizzle had stopped. Your performance had pleased the hydro dragon, you supposed, yet you now were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I was thinking, ma chérie, how about you join our troupe permanently,” Lyney’s voice sounded like he was underwater in your ears, yet you somehow understood him perfectly. His question was just giving you the illusion of choice as you knew the answer he was going to make you take. A magician’s job is to lie, after all.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere lyney x reader #yandere lyney #genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #18+ mdni #mdni

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watchfuldeer · 5 months ago

Text

last night i went to a really fun and informal fundraiser evening with jesse and lucy at westminster school, where they were interviewing each other. i got to ask a question which i’ve mused upon for some time about tom, shiv and greg. enjoy! full transcript under cut

Transcript

me: so i’m gonna have to look at what i wrote down.

jesse: that’s alright, you’re highly in credit since you know more about the show than us. more about john berryman.

(laughter)

lucy: tell us what we’ve done wrong so far!

me: god, no. i wouldn’t! so my question, this is a character based question, and one thing that probably got a bit subsumed in the fourth season just because everything was happening. but i’d like to know more about tom and shiv, and also greg. because my read on the situation between the three of them is that greg is a source of marital strife (laughter) that shiv never noticed, and what would it have taken for shiv to notice the depth of greg’s presence in their marriage.

jesse: uh huh.

me: and tom’s attachment to him.

jesse: uh huh. sometimes you get little bits in life or you see something and you’re like, i wish we were making the show, because i suddenly do want to hear shiv say ‘greg you’re a source of marital strife’.

(laughter)

jesse: that’s like, when you’re like, that’s gonna be in, we’re not gonna cut that.

lucy: absolutely.

jesse: (doing greg voice) wh-wh-what?!

(laughter)

lucy: yeah. well we enjoyed that, didn’t we. we had a scene in america decides, which was the only scene between shiv and greg.

jesse: oh yeah.

lucy: the election episode in the final season where she takes him into a little room and threatens him.

me: ah, but it’s jealousy over lukas, over the greg and lukas thing, and it’s like, have you forgotten your husband, who is also very attached to this limpet?

lucy: yeah. i would also say that there are marriages in which a third party is not an unuseful thing, as well. not in a forgiving way about infidelity, but i would say that there are things that tom can express with and at and on greg (laughter) as it were, to greg, that are useful because he’s both a - you know the great, the interesting thing about tom is that he’s both a courtier and a bully. he’s that rare combination of someone who you totally believe as being almost like (mimes bowing and doffing cap) ‘oh yes sorry thank you yes ma’am’ and also like, ‘i’m gonna kill you’ and that juxtaposition is what makes him so interesting.

but in his marriage to shiv he has no real way, until quite late i guess in the final season, where we explore it, to hold power over her and to use that part of himself. so he’s accepted the acquiescing, he’s accepted the role of courtier in that marriage, and greg is quite a useful place where he gets to express all of that, the bully in him so that maybe it doesn’t have to come out in the marriage. which might be bad, because perhaps it should do and then the marriage would’ve ended much earlier, yknow, when shiv would just be like ‘i’m not dealing with you challenging me in any way’. so it’s not until that balcony scene i think where he really challengers her much at all. possibly the beach scene, where he sort of says that he’s considered leaving her, and how that would feel. but with aggressive challenge? it’s all directed at greg, and greg is allowed to be the place where all those feelings go.

me: but the affection - there’s also affection between them.

jesse: YEAH. and i think that’s the other thing maybe you’re alluding to is like, she… i think, some things you know you’re putting in the show because you talk about them and other things just naturally occur, and audiences and people tell you what the show is and what you put in there and you didn’t even realise, but i think we were aware of this - she’s oblivious. her obliviousness is a big part of her wealth and her upbringing and… so there’s something homoerotic going on between greg and tom.

me: i mean it’s not for me to say.

(laughter)

jesse: and does she… i think there’s two ways of reading that, either she’s oblivious, and that’s intriguing and possible. the other is that she sort of - there’s a scene in, you know that one, in the sun valley media conference in argestes, where we wrote a bit where shiv shows up unexpected and tom’s sort of flirting with someone, and it never really landed that much. i think we were like, oh this really gonna, shiv’s gonna spark up when she sees him flirting with someone. and it’s one of those things where you were like, you know what? i don’t think she gives a hoot, really, does she.

(laughter)

jesse: it’s like, she hasn’t got that, that’s not in her belly, that fear of loss.

lucy: no.

jesse: so i think that goes, that probably goes for a same-sex relationship or flirtation as much as it does for with a woman.

lucy: i think that’s true.

jesse: like she really… even if he was like - and this is not the way that tom would be like - ‘i think i’d like to sleep with greg’, i think she’d be like (mimes looking at watch) ‘when?’.

(laughter)

jesse: (as shiv) ‘not when i’m in the city, that’s weird, tom’.

(laughter)

jesse: i don’t think she’d have any fundamental objection to that.

lucy: that’s true. i think jealousy is quite a low status emotion.

jesse: yes.

lucy: and i think that she would struggle to feel it.

(jesse laughs)

lucy: even if it was present in some way, she would never be able to access it because it would put her too much at a disadvantage. so i think yeah exactly that, it would be like, ‘oh i guess you’re going to fuck that boring woman now are you, tom’ or do that, like… she has to be here (mimes one hand above another hand) so jealousy can’t really be accessed by her. so she might be irritated by greg, but in the way you would be by a mosquito.

me: to her detriment.

lucy: to her detriment, sure, ultimately yeah.

#succession #tomgreg #tomshiv #jesse armstrong #lucy prebble #sorry for the audio quality 😭#they didn’t have mics as it was a very small room and my phone could only pick up so much #lucy put forward the more traditional view of greg being tom’s emotional outlet #but credits greg to prolonging a doomed marriage that otherwise wouldn’t have made it over the first hurdle #i’d never really thought of it that way. greg is actually the third wheel of their marriage lol.#and it’s why the marriage finally goes off the rails when greg does like… usurp her #just by caring about tom #jesse’s answer made me laugh and i think it is probably true #she would feel bound to accept tom asking if he could sleep with greg #and as lucy says it’s because jealousy is beneath her to acknowledge

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onlyswan · 2 years ago

Text

summary: in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night and jungkook is stuck by the glue onto you.

> idol!jungkook x reader / strangers to lovers / fluff, slight angst / wc: 4.4k

> warnings: mentions of oc’s toxic ex bf, slutshaming, and alcohol

> in which masterlist!

note: the in which couple’s first encounter reveal?! has arrived with a bam cameo at the end <3 recommend reading the ‘first times’ in the masterlist next if you haven’t yet :D as always reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰 and yes. i love beabadoobee.

—

“sir, will you help me-“ you panic, eyes pleading for help as you look between the door and the owner of the music shop. “i think it’s stuck.”

“oh! of course, of course. i apologize about that.” the middle-aged man, quick to your aid, ducks out of the counter. “i ought to get this thing changed soon. spent a fortune on it but it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do.”

you copy his chuckle, watching him push up the still half-closed door before shoving it open to the side.

“thank you!” you politely bow your head before stepping out.

“come back again next time! i’ll give you a discount!”

“really? a discount? then i have no choice but to come back!” you whine playfully, smiling at the promise of saving money in the future. you present him another bow. “have a good night! close the door now, it’s cold.”

the 90’s love song playing inside becomes muffled when the transparent glass completely shuts out the outside world once again. instead, the lead vocalist’s voice is replaced by a golden and dulcet humming by a stranger.

you scan for the source of the sound, and at once, you discover it when you whip your head to the right. scrolling through his phone, he’s sitting at the far corner of the old wooden bench— the same boy who was paying at the counter when you stumbled into the store. unbeknownst to yourself, your heart skips a beat. you were transported to a field of flowers when you brushed past him, and you met his big brown eyes briefly when he turned to leave.

burdened by the heavy and uneven weight you’re carrying on your shoulders, you decide to rest on the other side of the bench while you wait for a taxi to pass by. you spare a glance at the oversaturated band posters on the off-white wall behind it before sitting down as their audience.

the humming ceases when he feels your presence beside him.

you cautiously set down the padded guitar bag on the ground, securing it in between your thighs, anxious of getting so much as a scratch on the precious instrument. it’s a dear friend’s birthday tomorrow, and you only found the time and the money to purchase her gift today.

you check your wrist watch. 10:13pm. you fell asleep in the library while studying for a test, and because of that, you’re probably going to be home at around midnight. this place is pretty far and secluded, but apparently it’s known for its good and rare finds. you went here with your friend two months ago just to window shop and one of their bass guitars caught her eye. naturally, you couldn’t resist. her birthday gift has to be this. for some reason, it just feels easier to spend money on your loved ones than yourself.

will you even manage to send a birthday message before you pass out to sleep again? god, you hope so.

you feel your empty stomach grumbling angrily, and you’re not sure if it makes a sound or if it’s all just in your muddled head. yup, you missed dinner, too.

“i’m so hungry.” you cry out quietly, resting your forehead on the neck of the guitar.

fine, maybe you subconsciously said it a little louder than quiet. it was a shot in the dark, curious if the stranger beside you would have any sort of reaction. you hope for a glance at most. he has beautiful eyes, ones you almost feel envious of.

“me too.“ the sulky response slips out of his mouth with an exhausted sigh.

the sound of his voice makes you perk up in pleasant surprise, gazing at him with an amused, tight-lipped smile. on the other hand, he stiffens from the realization of what he just did. he stops manspreading, straightening himself up and awkwardly clearing his throat.

“sorry… it was a reflex.”

“it’s okay.” you reassure him with a quick laugh.

you tear your eyes away from him, watching the moths frantically flying under the street lamps. it’s silent for a moment, except for the shop owner’s on-going playlist and the occassional singing of the abundant crickets.

you face him again with a flair of innocence.

“do you want a granola bar?”

he lifts his head to look at you, the screen’s light reflecting on his tan skin, and that grants you the ability to see his breathtaking eyes. there might’ve been countless instances when they hated how small this bench is, most likely a tight fit for three people, but right now, you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

“it’s just that… i’m going to eat it and it feels rude to eat alone knowing you’re hungry, too.”

his teeth sinks in lower lip, contemplating for a few beats before nodding his head. “yeah, sure. i’d like one. thank you.”

you bring out the tupperware from your messenger bag, unfastening the sides open and separating the lid. as your own wordless way of telling him that they’re not poisoned, you grab one first, taking a small bite, before offering the container to him.

“here you go.”

you stifle a cackle when he pulls down the sleeves of his black hoodie as if he’s preparing to eat a whole course meal. he’s so fucking cute, gentle and dainty while picking up the granola bar along with the parchment paper underneath it. that leaves you with three left. you set down the tupperware between the two of you, loosely putting the lid on top.

“huh?” he exclaims with big round eyes, hand hovering over his mouth as he chews. “did you make this?”

the question makes you wince nervously. he didn’t like it? you could’ve sworn it's the best batch you’ve made so far. “uhm, if it tastes good, then i did. if not-”

“no, no. i like it.” he giggles, waving his hand to shoo your worries. “it’s not too sweet, and it’s soft? how did you make it chewy?!”

“oh-” you breathe out a sigh, clutching your chest in relief. “i just follow a recipe i found online! my neighbor gives me honey like every week so i found a use for it.”

“well, it’s really good. thank you.” he gives you a kind smile, scrunching his nose before resuming to eat the snack you spent your sunday night preparing.

and it’s quiet again. you look the other way to hide the proud smile playing on your lips, the fluttering of your unguarded heart raging and stubborn. maybe if you put food in your mouth, you’ll stop talking… not.

“i’m ___.”

he swallows before replying, distinctive dimples near his mouth making an appearance. “i’m jungkook.”

jungkook. it suits him so well. it’s perfect.

“do you play the guitar?“ jungkook asks curiously, motioning at the instrument you’re holding.

“oh, no- i just got this for my friend’s birthday. she’s in a band.” you share with a chuckle. “what about you? what do you need those giant speakers for?”

“ahh, they are big, aren’t they?” he scrunches his nose, glancing at the two boxes beside his feet. “i just figured buying new speakers would motivate me to work on music more.”

“are you a singer?” you gasp dramatically for effect. “or perhaps, a rapper?”

“i mean…” he smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “i guess i can rap, too.”

“that’s cool. i think you have a pretty talking voice, too.”

“aigoo, thank you so much.” he jokingly bends down his torso for a bow, clasping his hands together with the small remaining piece of granola bar in between before taking it in between his teeth.

the harmony of your laughter bleeds through the chilly air, providing your hearts a wave of much needed warmth.

“thank you too. you gave me an idea what to gift my friends next time.”

“speakers?” his face lights up like of a kid unboxing presents beside the christmas tree. you’ve never met anyone who looks this passionate at the mention of the said device— this whole interaction is giving you the urge to dive deeper into the world of music beyond the sphere of being a casual listener. “they’ll love it. it’s the best gift for me personally.”

you tilt your head to the side. “you know a lot about them?”

“hmmm, i don’t know.” he purses his lips as he hums, eyes falling on the ground as he ponders. “they’re important for shows and work so i naturally learn a lot about them… i often look for reviews and new releases. it’s like a hobby?”

“really? then i’m sold. i need you.”

the carelessly casual words escape your mouth before you can think twice.

“need me?” he repeats your word in surprise, pointing at himself.

you disguise yourself with a nod and a coy smile, acting nonchalant as if you’re not screaming inside. you’ve always been this shameless when you have nothing to lose, but he’s just so pretty that you want to learn shit like what his favorite food is and whether your zodiac signs are compatible even though you don’t believe in them.

“help me choose the best speakers to buy, one year from now. i don’t know anything about music at all, so i always have a hard time with gifts.” you’re pouting sadly by the end, your words bearing the weight of truth, albeit you’re also using them as an excuse to glue yourself onto him.

in your mind, five seconds feels like it’s stretching into eternity. he breaks out into a shy grin, playing with the parchment paper left in his hand before folding it over and over again until it becomes the same size as the nail of his thumb. he stuffs it into the pocket of his washed denim jeans.

“okay then, i should help you. give me your number?”

your hands graze each other as you lay hold of his phone, clueless instruments of your and jungkook’s youthful impulses and anticipation.

“do you have other ___’s in your contacts? should i name myself ‘___ from mj’s music box’?” you inquire half-jokingly, raising your eyebrows at him.

”ey, come on. there’s no need for that.” he chortles, staring back at you with an unnamed emotion in his eyes, but you quickly revert your attention to the screen and you don’t notice.

“i don’t think you’ll remember me just by my name a year from now, though.” you mutter to yourself as you tap on the screen. after that, you tap the call button to save his number on your phone as well.

you’re already handing him back his phone when he finally constructs a reply-

“is that so? then make it difficult for me to forget.”

and the air gets robbed from your lungs. it makes you wonder how many hearts he has broke, being this handsome and charming, and if you’ll even drag this out and stick around long enough to find out.

“be careful of your words. i’m pretty competitive.” you playfully taunt him, softly tugging his wrist to put the device on his delicately wide palm. “don’t blame me when i end up being the only person you think about.”

he matches your energy, a cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he shakes his head. “psh, why would i? that doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

why are you thinking of ways to keep this flowing instead of retreating and coming up with an obvious excuse to leave? as always, you find yourself most liberated when you meet new people, even when you know they’ll only be a fleeting presence in your life, here to leave a stain or a scar. you wish a taxi never arrives. you wish to be left stranded here for the rest night so you can hear him talk about the first song he ever wrote and you can tell him about the stupid song your first boyfriend wrote for you.

but alas, the universe intervenes with your fantasies and the approaching blazing headlights almost blind your blurry eyes.

you wave your hand to hail the taxi, and you smile at jungkook one more time. “time for me to go.”

“oh, okay.”

the vehicle parks infront of the bench. he watches you hurriedly toss the granola bar you never finished into the transparent tupperware, a feeling akin to disappointment gnawing at his guts.

“wait- weren’t you waiting for a taxi, too?” you wonder out loud as you slide the resealed container inside your bag.

“i’m fine, i have a ride. you go take it- oh, oh- let me help you with that-” he stands up abruptly when he sees you struggling to stand up, lifting the guitar to relieve you of the barrier.

“thanks, jungkook.” you laugh airily, getting on your feet, closer to him than you’ve ever been. he’s taller than you originally thought, and it’s hard to ignore the fact that his flexing forearms are veiny… (you have a suspicion that he’s doing it on purpose. the guitar bag isn’t that heavy.) those, paired with that pretty baby face— he’s so manly and so adorable in a way you’ve never seen in anyone else. he’s a beautiful, refreshing sight to behold.

you’re holding your breath, as if that would freeze the hands of the clocks, halt the earth from spinning on its axis because it’s the only way for you to stay without blaming yourself. the love songs haven’t stopped playing, and a slow acoustic sets out to delude you that this is a scene from an indie romance film, a beginning of something beautiful, but it rarely is. it never is.

his bunny teeth sink into his bottom lip, tainting it a darker shade of pink, before his tongue sneaks out to lick it. “you can go inside.” he generously says, slightly raising his arms to gesture at your cherished gift he’s grasping securely.

you only nod in understanding, walking past him and proceeding to open the door to slide into the backseat. you assist him in putting the guitar inside the taxi and over your lap, and you force your brain to shut down before you can speak again and your friskiness gets you into trouble.

“get home safe, ___!” he brightly chirps, waving at you goodbye.

your cheeks are starting to hurt from all the giddy smiles, but you just can’t stop, not when he has this contagious and bubbly expression painted on his face that’s simply impossible not to adore.

“you too, jungkook.”

his meticulous eyes briefly wander around your figure, checking if you’re too close, and then he carefully slams the door shut. you sink into your seat, swallowing the lump in your throat before telling the taxi driver your address.

you don’t want to think too much, so you close your eyes, hoping to get more sleep to recharge your mental and social batteries. unsurprisingly, you grow restless not even five minutes after. the soothing piano ballads faintly playing in the radio aren’t much help either. an infuriated scream hangs on the tip of your tongue, and you bite it down into dust. instead, you dish out your phone from the pocket of your bag to save jungkook’s number… but then the venomous voice of your ex calling you degrading names ranging from ‘an ungrateful, attention-seeking bitch’ to ‘a slut’ after you broke up with him echo in your tumultuous head, and you begin feeling pathetically small and nauseous. for a split moment you find yourself contemplating whether you should just delete it or not. out of guilt or out of fear, maybe both, you’re not quite certain.

what ultimately pull you out from the dark abyss of relentless overthinking are the first notifications you ever receive with his name attached to them.

Jungkook:

hey this is JK

i just thought of this now ?!..

trade my music equipment expertise for your magical granola bar recipe? :)

you bury your face in your hands, silently crying out— “ah shit, this is so annoying. why does he have to be so cute? i need a drink.”

—

“i’m hungry.” the grumpy complaint spills from your tongue now that bam, your not-so little happy pill, is out from sight.

“me too.” jungkook juts out his bottom lip, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you. “do you still have strawberry wafers in your bag?”

his question prompts you to hug it defensively. no, just no. “i’m saving them for emergencies-”

he puts his index finger infront of his lips, shushing you with a shake of his head. he tuts. “i know. this is an emergency, baby.”

cornered at the armrest of the couch, you have nowhere else to go. you unwillingly surrender to satisfying his craving, grimacing as he starts rummaging through your bag. this is exactly why you told him you should eat brunch before bringing in bam for his grooming, but jungkook insisted that it won’t take too long. sure, maybe the grooming session itself won’t… but the waiting in line part? that definitely took too long. making an appointment is technically futile when you’re visiting on a weekend.

“mhmmm, i love it.” he moans in satisfaction, devouring the slice of wafer in only two consecutive bites.

you glare at him when he offers you the plastic bag with a teasing smile, seizing it from his grip to snack on the treat while you continue to wait at the lounge area. you’re the only fur parents left here, the last clients before the staff goes on their hour-long lunch break. the sign on the door has been flipped to say ‘CLOSED’.

jungkook wraps one arm around you, pulling you closer by the shoulder and cupping your face with his warm hand to plant an apologetic kiss on your cheek. “i’ll cook you a hearty meal for dinner when we get home.”

you melt in his hold, leaning further against the backrest to release the tension from your body bred by hunger and impatience.

“really?” you feign nonchalance as you make the futile attempt of hiding the pleased smile curving on your lips. “i want chicken. the one you made before, with the creamy and spicy sauce.”

your mouth is practically watering as you describe the dish, the smell and taste of his cooking still vivid in your senses’ memory. it’s making the food you’re eating painfully insipid, but it’s better than nothing.

“and wine, too. no- actually, i’m craving tequi- argh, i’ll settle with wine.”

“okay! chicken and wine for dinner!” he agrees straight away, pressing a kiss on your temple before pinching one more stick of wafer between his fingers. he breaks it into two halves and gives one of them to you.

you accept it wordlessly, but a peculiar feeling is slithering its way into the tight confines of your heart, and you can’t withdraw your eyes from closely observing your gorgeous boyfriend. he brushes off the crumbs that fell on his white t-shirt and his lap after he finishes his share, still chewing as he tenderly takes the empty plastic from your hand. just as you predicted, he finds entertainment in folding it as small as possible.

“this is giving me déjà vu.”

“déjà vu?” he tilts up his head, doe eyes widening as you’ve captured his attention.

“uh-huh, you know when we first met…” you trail off, sending him a threatening look when the confused expression on his face stays unchanging. “you remember, right?”

his mouth hangs open before his eyebrows knit in irritation, posture straightening as he stammers with his defense. “what kind of question is that? you’re hurting my feelings- you were wearing a varsity jacket with the number 6 on it!”

“jungkook, i wore that like everyday for four months.”

his expression softens, pierced lip forming a pout. “do you even know that i-i… ah, i’ll show you instead!”

“show me what?”

he digs his hand in the pocket of his dark blue denim jeans, dishing out his wallet. you peer at him with curiosity as he rapidly unzips it to comb through his cards, pausing at his driver’s license and removing the white paper hiding behind it.

“no way-” you splutter, nearly choking on your own spit as your hunch grows enormously.

he unfolds it to reveal the faded blue ink that writes the most crucial and specific details of the first time the universe conspired to make your paths cross.

“look, i still have the receipt from the night! november 11…”

you notice him squinting at the faint characters, and you momentarily disconnect from the surge of mixed emotions to pull out his prescription glasses from the collar of his t-shirt. you affectionately wear it on him, weaving your fingers through his hair to brush away the loose strands from his bun blocking the lens.

“thanks baby- it’s november 11, 2017. at 9:55pm!”

jungkook originally kept this receipt for a month incase he had to return the speakers due to unforeseen defect or damage. but then you never stopped talking, and you became the only person he thinks of 24/7 just as your coquettish warning told. the thought of throwing it out never occured to him. instead, he preserved it in his wallet because he carries it with him everywhere he goes. he would even argue that it’s his most important property in it. he can have his credit cards cancelled then replaced, but this piece of paper is once in a lifetime.

mj’s music box closed down due to the pandemic. he hasn’t told you this, didn’t want to break your heart when he found out. he knows that you treasure the place as much as him, if not more.

meanwhile, the new-found knowledge has rendered you speechless, unblinking, buffering.

“what’s with that face? you’ve never seen this in my wallet?” he quizzes you in bewilderment, smiling humorously.

“of course i haven’t! you want me going through your wallet without permission?!” you whine, hugging his arm and hiding yourself behind his back to calm the intense pumping of your heart.

oh, your sweet, sweet jungkook— he never runs out of way to make you fall in love with him all over again.

“my love, you know i don’t care about things like that.” he chuckles, astonished by how you still highly value and respect his privacy and boundaries despite how long you’ve been together. it just occurs to him then, that at the very core of your relationship, this is probably why he never once regretted moving in with you. he says it all the time, but he just feels so goddamn lucky to have you in his life. he loves you. he loves everything about you. even the things he doesn’t like, he loves.

“aren’t you going to eat that?”

you’re overflowing with his love, you can’t stomach anything else.

“i won’t.”

“i’ll indulge myself then.” he cages your hand in his, raising it for the wafer to reach his lips. he bites it all the way down like a bunny eating a carrot, ending the journey with a chaste kiss on your knuckle. “you’re too quiet… are you crying?”

you shake your head profusely, tightening your embrace. “i love you so much, i can’t think. i just want to hug you.”

he smells a different type of sweet nowadays— more manly, more mature, binding you in an enrapturing spell, and with a suble hint of a baby scent that somehow makes him much more intoxicating. it’s overwhelming to think about— the amount of perfume bottles you’ve bought and consumed after asking one another if they smell too basic or too strong; the amount of times jungkook changed his wallet and took the receipt along with him because it only felt right.

“mkay, i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers, nosing at your hair.

and so, he stays stuck by the glue onto you as he gulps down a bottle of water, as he returns his wallet in his pocket with grunts of difficulty, as he deletes a promotional text on his phone sent by his service provider. he suspects that you’ve already fallen asleep. after all, you did spend the entire night dancing to the songs he sang along to. you wore the crocheted blanket you made as a cape and a dress, flowing with your graceful movements controlled by the lyrics and the beat and the melody and his compliments and his giggles.

he’s proven wrong when you slowly turn your head, cheek squished against his bicep. with heavy eyelids, you search for his hands, tangling them with your lonely ones.

“want to hear something silly about that day?”

“i’m all ears.” he beams eagerly, watching you twiddle with his long and slender fingers.

“do you know why i offered you my food?”

“because you couldn’t let a pretty boy like me succumb to starvation?”

“weeeell, there’s that…” you admit to his confident guess. “but aside from that, i wanted to see your nails closely.”

“my nails?”

you make a noise of confirmation as you trace his tattoos, a laugh seeping from the cracks of your relaxed demeanor. “to see if they were clean and trimmed or not.”

“so…” jungkook, the most hygienic man you’ve ever met, is digesting what you just confessed to him. “if they were dirty, you never would’ve told me your name?”

“hmm, yeah. because i always badgered my ex about it and you know how that relationship ended, so i thought enforcing those type of rules would help because i don’t want to deal with that shit again.” you cringe at younger you’s naivety and desperation, smiling shyly. “and it kind of… worked out so well? it sounds so funny to me now. i actually love myself for that.”

“fuck, baby,” he sighs.

he can’t imagine how a human being could ever dare to treat you with anything but gentleness. literally, can’t. it makes him sick to his stomach, makes the blood in his veins boil. he feels disturbed by the memories that still haunt you, and he feels angry because he is powerless and he can’t erase them no matter how hard he tries.

he caresses your face, planting doting kisses on your lips. the ghost of his affection lingers, like an invisible lipstick mark. “i wish i met you sooner.”

“what are you saying? i think we met at the perfect time!” you console his frustration, grinning when the epiphany lands on top of your bittersweet flashbacks. “out of the 365 days of the year, we met at 11/11. you’re my wish come tru- bam!”

the shocked, high-pitched squeal freefalls from your mouth when bam excitedly jumps on your laps out of nowhere, the weight of his upper half crushing your thighs underneath him. the dog smiles at you, panting.

“bam, i missed you but i was just about to tell your dad something romantic!”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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sanjisboyfie · 10 months ago

Text

when you know, you know.

-> basketball player gojo satoru x male reader

requested!!! a rlly old req from an anon in my inbox <3 ty for the req and jm so sorry it took so long however the 6k+ word count hopefully makes up for that. + listen to margaret by lana del rey on repeat for the full affect

-> prev

warnings : satoru ooc (i do NOT agree w that warning but i GUESS I could see why someone would disagree 🙄🙄🙄), very fluffy to the point it seems angsty!!! talk about the homosexuals!!!! satoru mentions small familial conflict in the interview portion

diamond on your ring

cause when you know, you know

when you know, you know

“thank you so much for agreeing to a sit down interview, gojo-sama,” the interviewer politely bows to the tall man the second satoru walks into the room. immediately, he bows in response, finding the sudden formalities almost abnormal.

at this point, he was so used to other interviews he’d done be super quick, informal and just reporters looking for answers to their questions with little regard for things such as respect.

this was a breath of fresh air, but satoru couldn’t help but feel bad for the interviewer whose back must be hurting now with how long they’d been bowing.

“oh, please, no need for such strong formalities,” satoru chimed in, gently resting his hand on their shoulder to goad them into standing upright, “gojo is fine, too, no need for the honorifics. it’s not like i’m royalty,” he joked, hoping to lift the mood in the room.

it seemed to work as the interviewer finally cracked a smile and dropped their shoulders from being so stiffly held up to their ear.

“then, gojo-san, please take a seat and we can get you all mic’d up for the interview. it should take no longer than a half hour, longest running an hour and a half, but we really don’t want to take up too much of your time,” satoru shook his head, assuring them that it was fine and then taking his seat.

he noticed that the cameras were already filming, but didn’t think twice on it. technically, from the moment he stepped foot in the room, the interview already started. that’s what it said on paper, at least.

“erm, to just go over what we might be discussing in this interview,” the reporter said, clearing their throat as they looked over their list of questions, “since this is a very specific interview, the questions are going to mainly be centered around your romantic relationships and very personal questions,”

satoru nodded, moving in his seat to allow the staff better access in getting the microphone to stay hidden in his clothes, “yeah, my manager sent me the general idea of questions of stuff you’d be asking, it’s alright with me,” he said, taking off his sunglasses, “plus i think i’m pretty familiar with the publisher and the audience, so it’s alright. really, ask me anything, this would probably the only time i’d do something like this,” he encouraged with a friendly smile, trying to show his genuinity.

the interviewer nodded in understanding, clicking their pen and writing a note in their notepad.

satoru had done his research beforehand. the publisher that was interviewing him, or rather the person interviewing him in steed of the company, was a pretty vocal LGBTQ+ company. it was a rare occurance in japanese media, especially as a standalone party, but they proved successful. satoru knew why they were interviewing him, obviously because he was gay and very outwordly apart of the community. he also knew that they were always respectful individuals, which is why he didn’t hesitate in accepting the interview.

if he was going to be asked about his sexuality and his very much gay relationship, he’d rather it be done through a respectful, and most likely very understanding, person rather than those that would shout at him invasive questions.

“then, are you ready, gojo-san?” the interviewer snapped him out of his daydream, making him nod his head. “let’s test the mic really quick, then we can jump into it,”

“i am gojo satoru,” he recited, looking at the staff for a thumbs up on the feedback. when he got a positive thumbs up, the interviewer followed with their own test and then they were able to get into the interview.

“let’s start with introductions, i’m ishii haruto and i’ll be the one interviewing you today, gojo-san. lovely to meet you,” he bowed his head in greeting, making satoru follow suit.

a relaxed grin was on his face as he introduced himself again, “i haven’t said it before, but i’m gojo satoru,” it was a small joke that uplifted the mood of the room once more. haruto appreciated it, laughing to himself at satoru’s subtle charisma.

”well, to get right into the interview, let’s start with hard hitting questions,” satoru braced himself, clenching his fists in his pant’s pocket, “how are you?”

satoru smiled, shooting a fake warning look haruto’s way, “i’m wonderful, how are you ishii-san? i hope you’re doing well, too,”

“i’m doing very well. it’s an honor to interview you, thank you for giving us this opportunity,” haruto said, subtly bowing his head once more, “you truly don’t understand how inspiring it will be for the rest of japan to hear your story, you’re doing such a big thing for all of us in this room, and for those that will read this interview later. so, really, thank you, gojo-san,”

satoru pursed his lips at the sentimentality, realizing quickly that this interview was going to be really different than anything he’d ever experienced before. “sobering” up a little bit, he smiled at haruto and nodded his head, “i’m happy to be here, too. i hope whoever reads this learns something about themselves,”

“yes, that will be the end goal,” haruto agreed before looking down at his notepad, “well, i guess we can just start off with this one — when did you know you were gay?”

satoru hummed, “i don’t really know. for me, i guess it was always in the back of my mind? i mean, i never had a crush on a girl growing up. and i thought it was normal. my parents did as well, seeing how driven i was from a young age to be successful in basketball, i think they wrote it off as me just being determined to make my dreams come true. no time for distractions, or something like that. but deep down, i think i always knew.” he paused, crossing his legs as he decided to add one more tidbit, “and i never thought it was wrong, either. to me, having a crush on a boy wasn’t a big deal. i just thought, huh, this sucks i like someone, i might get distracted from basketball now,”

the two shared a laugh at his joking remark at the end, but until that point the interviewer was very immersed in the personal story. he was even humming in acknowledgement of everything he was saying, as if he related.

“so when you began pursuing your current boyfriend, it was not a big deal for you? even given your position as a famous basketball player?” then haruto looked at the camera men and held his hand up, a signal of some sort that satoru was cued in on, and leaned forward, “would it be alright if we refer to him with his name?”

satoru quickly nodded, understanding now that the hand gesture meant for their mics to be cut so that they wouldn’t receive any audio.

then they were back on and satoru answered the original question, “no, it wasn’t a huge deal. well, it was to everyone else, i guess. but to me and my close friends, it wasn’t. they already knew i was really into him and had a big crush on him before i did, so it really wasn’t a big shock when i made my efforts more obvious. well, as obvious as you can get with having everyone watching you. i tried to reel it in a little when my friend’s told me he may not be comfortable with all the attention, that was the only time i really was aware of it and began to calm down on my advances,”

“oh, so it wasn’t a big deal to you, but in consideration of his feelings, you kind of held back a little bit?”

“yeah, because if things ended up not working out, then all the neutral attention we were getting would have become negative. rumors could’ve started that would’ve hurt him, and i definitely didn’t want that, so yeah,” satoru said, reiterating his main point from earlier, “i just wanted him to be comfortable whenever we were in public,”

“that’s really considerate of you, gojo-san,” the interviewer complimented, making satoru laugh with a wave of his hand.

“he never asked for all the attention in the first place, i definitely didn’t want to make our already secretive position more hostile than it needed to be,” satoru explained, “so everything had to be toned down. fortunately, he was very understanding and could see where i was coming from.”

“what do you mean by that? did he ever say anything about it?”

“well, we’re just like any other couple. we just want privacy and respect, some people don’t want to give it to us. those people that just want to hurt our relationship just because we’re both guys. if i wasn't as famous as i am, i’d imagine it’d be easier to mange. not that it still wouldn’t be stressful — but at least, not the entire country would be breathing down our necks,” satoru explained, choosing his words carefully. “no matter what, though, if you’re in a relationship with someone of the same sex, it’s going to be hard.”

“that’s true, but you two have faced a lot of very hard obstacles. it’s sad how many times people have wished to see you two broken up,” haruto said, an angry look on his face, “how did you two manage to overcome those obstacles?”

“well, we had each other, loved ones, and close friends as support systems. they were really helpful and sweet, they were the most understanding. but i think, the most important one, was that we had each other. we were in it together. not to say that all the negative attention was good or even worth it, but it made our love for one another stronger,” satoru sighed, thinking about the early days when he was first officially dating [name], “i just wish they were nicer to him. he didn’t deserve any of it,”

there was a pause of respect from haruto before they continued on, “you said you had support of loved ones and close friends — were they supportive from the get-go or did it take “convincing” for them to understand?”

“most of them were really understanding and could see that my love for him was too strong to be denied, so that was nice. but there were definitely instances of family members not understanding or simply refusing to support,” satoru answered with a grim look on his face.

“how did you deal with that?”

“well, it was mainly family members, unfortunately, that rejected my lifestyle. so i had to do the best thing and cut them off. i couldn’t have them in my ear telling me that i wasn’t meant to be this way or that [name] and i’s relationship had to be put to a stop. so i cut them off completely and haven’t spoken to them since. i could afford to make that sacrifice since i had [name] and others as support. he really helped me through that and the realization that not everyone will understand or see it as we do…you just have to learn how to deal with it in each situation and circumstance,”

haruto hummed in intrigue and understanding, “was it hard? cutting them off and coming to that realization?”

“i would say it wasn’t as hard as one would think…not when i love [name] so much i’d sacrifice anything to be with him. i wasn’t going to settle for anything passive aggressive or half-assed when it came to support of my relationship with him. like i said, i wasn’t going to let anyone bad mouth him or our relationship, i wouldn’t settle for that in exchange of keeping blood relatives around. even if someone is family, if they hurt someone i love, it still counts for something. they’re still hurting him and in turn hurting me. that’s not family anymore,” satoru said definitively. he had a hard look on his face. almost the one that was only mirrored whenever he was on the court. it showed how serious of a topic it was to him.

“seeing you so be so openly protective and in love with your boyfriend has gotten you two a lot of attention over the years, most of it is praise from others since they do think it’s adorable. does affection that you show [name] come very naturally?”

“of course it does,” satoru grinned, happy to move onto more lighthearted topics. he had the widest grin on his face now, thinking of when he would go home and cuddle his boyfriend, “i’m a very affectionate person, anyway. ask suguru, he’ll tell you,” with the reference to his best friend, who plays on the same team as him, haruto grins, “but i made sure that [name] was comfortable with it first and then went on from what he was okay with, until we got to the point right now where we both don’t really care,

if i know i’m in love with my boyfriend, i want other people to know as well. there was a bad rep surrounding me, in my early days especially. everyone thought i was a playboy, for some reason,” he shyly scratched the back of his head, “so i thought that me showing that i was very loyal and very much in love with my boyfriend, people would stop thinking that of me. and it worked! so, it was a win-win situation,”

haruto nods, looking at his cue cards with a grin, “and you two have had a really long relationship-”

“almost coming on 5 years now,” satoru giggles, a blush evident on his pale cheeks, “it doesn’t feel that long, though,”

“yeah, it’s as if it was only yesterday the two of you made it public and sent everyone into a panic,” the two laugh at the memory. the headlines that day going hysterical over the basketball player’s very much gay personal life. “and since you’ve been in a relationship for so long, has it ever crossed your mind to tie the knot permanently? settle down with [name]?”

satoru paused, the smile on his face faltering ever so slightly as he repeated the question in his mind.

marriage with [name] always was the answer. but, the idea of when and where and how never crossed satoru’s mind. well, it did. in repeated passing thoughts. but, never long enough for him to commit to the idea. he’s thought of how he would do it, where, but never really when. and even then, the how and where were never set in stone. he wanted it to be romantic, definitely had to be something that the two would retell to their kids one day as the most romantic and loving gesture satoru has ever done.

but “when”…satoru never put a pin in the calendar on what date.

he hummed where he sat, resting his chin in his palms as he thought about how to answer.

“huh, well…i know i’m going to marry him someday,” satoru assures the interviewer, who was silently panicking that they had accidentally asked a question too invasive, “but, i think i’ll keep the details of that to myself, haha,” satoru played it off as a tease, but internally he was sweating bullets.

there was never going to be a right time. a right time insinuates a moment where satoru is so overwhelmed with love that a proposal would be the only verbal indicator of that feeling.

but, satoru has been so madly and deeply in love with [name] for so long already that the “right time” feels like every waking moment.

when the two moved in together, made that huge, empty house a home for themselves. when he took [name] on their first overseas trip and they learned even more about each other. when satoru takes him home for the holidays where he just so perfectly matches with his family members and comes even more out of his shell.

satoru’s been so in love with [name] for so long it feels like they’re already married. [name] knows him like the back of his hand and vice versa.

it was as if he always knew. he just knew in the back of his mind that they’d end up standing in perfectly tailored suits at the end of the aisle, saying heartfelt and cheesy vows to each other. satoru knows he’ll probably end up crying more than [name] and he knows that that day will be the happiest he’ll ever be.

the question made his head spin around as a flurry of questions of when he would propose filled his head, but it did solidify one thing. the fact that satoru just knows that one day he’ll end up being [name]’s husband and [name] his. and he wants that day to come sooner rather than later.

”well, i think the final question for our interview today that can wrap this up, will be: do you have any advice for young aspiring individuals that might read this and see this side of you?”

satoru gulped, suddenly feeling as if the temperature in the room had gone up twenty degrees. he tugged on the collar of his button up, swallowing as he spoke carefully, “just always be true to yourself and your dreams. it doesn’t matter what other people think because if you know what you want and you know that it’s your dreams on the line, there shouldn’t be anything standing between you and that goal. whether it be a person you want to pursue or if it’s your dream career, don’t give up.” he attempted a smile at haruto and it seemed to have done its work as the interviewer bowed his head deeply in gratitude.

the two finished the closing remarks of the interview with fluidity. he handed the mic back to the staff, who thanked him with their heads bowed. but before he could leave, he pulled haruto aside and lowered his voice, “uhm, could you hold off on publishing this for a while?”

haruto blinked rapidly, a nervous look coming onto his face, “well, the editing and transcription of the video will take some time, probably a little over a month…how long were you thinking of keeping it under wraps, gojo-san?”

it was a plead to not make him push the publication date back further. satoru hums, “a little over a month?”

“yes, that is what my advisor gave me as a “grace” period in editting everything,” haruto nods, the nervous look on his face not disappearing once.

“that should be alright then, sorry for worrying you. a little over a month is fine,” satoru grins, feeling his chest bloom with warmth. “thank you so much for the interview, have a lovely day,”

and with that parting farewell, satoru rushed out of the building with his mask and sunglasses on and practically jumped into his car.

in the safety confines of his car, satoru rested his head against the wheel. his breathing was rapid and his cheeks were ablaze. was he really going to do this? he looked at his phone that had the directions sent to the nearest luxury jewelry shop, his eyes flitting across the screen to take all the information in.

“seriously, satoru?” he panted to himself, leaning back to his seat and looking up at his car roof, “it took some guy interviewing you to grow the balls to do this? really?”

he cursed himself for waiting so long, setting his car into reverse and speeding his way to the shop. he had his sunglasses, hat, and mask on as he exited his car, careful to try and not attract too much attention. if the media caught light of this before he could properly do it, he would have someone’s head on a spike - he didn’t care.

no one was ruining this for him. for [name], too. satoru wasn’t going to let the stupid papparazzi tarnish this moment, as they had done for so many other intimate ones before this.

satoru grit his teeth, pushing the shop door open and breathing a sigh of relief to find that it was empty. he looked at the displays they had out, acting calm when on the inside he was sweating bullets.

“looking for anything in particular?” the attendent asked him, not at all acknowleding his appearance which meant that his disguise had worked.

he cleared his throat, still looking down as he shakily replied, “wedding rings, wedding rings for men, please,”

thank god the attendent wasn’t an asshole or else satoru might’ve really just slammed his head into the wall in frustration. because the attendent just guided him in the direction of where the men’s wedding rings were. he didn’t speak more either, just hovering around in case satoru needed help.

“fuck,” he cursed under his breath, trying his hardest to focus and think about which one [name] would like the most. “fuck, what if i get him one he doesn’t like? what the fuck does that mean for us? oh my god,” he panicked.

and it was almost funny. a 6’6 lean guy practically clutching his chest to stop his heart from jumping out of his ribs and flopping around on the floor. he was seriously getting heart palpitations, satoru swore this is the most nervous he’s ever been in his life.

what the fuck would he say when he actually proposes?

“i love you, marry me?”

fuck no. gojo satoru wasn’t going to settle for a shit proposal like that. and he certainly wasn’t going to settle for a shitting ring either, but it was so stressful thinking of whether or not his boyriend (manifest: soon to be fiance) would like the one he picked out.

satoru never was the one with good fashion or style sense in the relationship.

he was freaking out.

some of the rings on display were too loud and extravagant that he knew [name] wouldn’t enjoy it, but then going for someting super, duper plain was out of the question.

“do you have a particular agenda in mind?”

“i have nothing in my mind right now,” satoru snapped at the worker, apologizing seconds later, “i’m sorry, i’m just really stressed right now.”

“it’s alright, many are when they come in. they see the displayed rings and get self-conscious of the one that they choose. well, just go with your gut feeling on what you and your partner would like. that’s the best advice i can give you. you know them best, after all,”

this fucking attendent was right, satoru knows his own boyfriend (manifest: soon to be fiance) better than anyone. he just has to see something to spark an inspiration in him.

and he thinks he’s found it when he looks at a particular timeless piece that is cushioned on a small red velvet pillow.

“what can you tell me about that one?” satoru asked, although he’s almost completely set on just buying it right now. it was perfect. the coupled ring that pairs with it was also so effortlessly something he would love to wear as well.

”that one is in the style of an eternity ring, with the VVS diamonds cut into an emerald shape, obviously. the metal is platnium with 11 carats,” the attendent skillfully answers, “goes for about 9,871,750 yen ($70,000 USD). we offer installment plans, though-”

“no, i’ll just take it, thanks, though,” satoru said, easily sliding his card over. “i also want the paired one too,”

“that one is-”

“you don’t have to tell me about it or the price, just box them pretty for me and i’ll be on my way,” satoru grinned, looking at the bills he had in his wallet and pulling out a couple 10,000 yen notes, (adding up to about 200,000 yen - $1,417 USD). as the attendent very meticulously packaged the rings safely, satoru slid over the cash to him.

“thanks for helping,” satoru said, tapping his card and approving the transaction before walking out of the store. the hefty cash tip left on the counter for the attendent to gleam at.

and if he thought that the picking the ring part was hard, now he had to come up with how he was actually going to propose.

he always said that he wanted it to be romantic, but with [name] already waiting at home there was no way he could set something up at their own house. and, honestly, he wanted this to not be so public in fear of it leaking to the headlines. so he would have to settle with making it romantic in his home.

but, the more he thought about it, the more carefree he felt in the atmosphere. as long as [name] was just there exisisting, that was all he could ask for. satoru carefully pocketed the velvet box into his pant leg, keeping the pair safe as he drove back home completely undetected by papparazzi.

when he got home, he had to stop himself from automatically calling out to his boyfriend (manifest: soon to be fiance). the “honey, i’m home,” died in the back of his throat, thankfully, so his arrival home was still a secret. he took off his shoes and walked up the stairs to their shared bedroom where [name] was most likely resting.

it wasn’t too late, but by now his bedtime routine was probably done and he was getting comfortable in bed.

and satoru’s assumptions were right because when he gently pushed the bedroom door open, he saw [name] cuddled into a pillow and watching the TV that was set up against the wall. upon closer inspection, satoru saw that the pillow he was cuddling was actually from his side of the bed. he was cuddling his pillow as he waited for him to come home.

that, unfortunately, made satoru breakdown in tears almost right away. his eyes stung with the salty fluid breaking through his composure. [name] was too far to notice, though, simply lifting his head and waving him over with a loving smile, “you’re home! wow, you were so quiet i barely heard you come in,”

and when satoru just silently stood at the doorway, his hand covering his mouth, that made [name] get up out of bed in worry.

“hey, are you okay? what happened?” then he saw the way satoru’s broad shoulders shook, rushing over and holding him in his arms in an instant, “was it the interviewer? are you okay, satoru? talk to me,” satoru only broke down more, making [name] comfortingly rub up and down his back with “shh”s slipping from his mouth every now and then.

“satoru, are you okay?” [name] worriedly asked, gently pulling him towards the bed and urging him to sit. once the tall man was sat down, he immediately wrapped his arms around him again, hugging him as tight as he could to give him some sort of comfort, “you’re scaring me, satoru, what happened?”

satoru took a couple of seconds to collect himself, holding onto [name] in his arms as a means of grounding himself. but if anything, it made it worse. he was reminded that [name] was really real and not some figment of his imagination. he wasn’t just some “dream” guy, he was real and he was his.

[name] was sitting in their bed with him and comforting him lovingly. he was real and satoru never felt as lucky as he did than right now in this moment.

“nothing happened,” satoru breathed out, pulling [name] back from his torso so that he could properly speak to him. “i’m okay, really,”

“satoru, you’re crying. it’s okay, you can tell me,” [name] said softly, pushing his wet bangs aside and looking into his teary blue eyes, “it’s okay,”

satoru bit his lip, admiring the features of his boyfriend for a couple more seconds. how gentle his touch was, the hand caressing his face only having the lightest featherlike feeling against his skin. how concerned his e/c eyes were, staring into him and understanding him like no one else ever has.

he is so beautiful, satoru thought to himself. he squeezed [name]’s hand that was resting in his lap, making the man look down at their joined fingers.

”satoru?”

“i just,” he took in a deep breath, “i love you so much, you know that right?”

he almost laughed at the suggestion, but [name] politely nodded instead, “of course i know that, you show me everyday. i love you, too,”

satoru nuzzled his cheek further into [name]’s touch, relishing in the way the man’s warmth fell onto his skin.

“i love you so much, i’d do anything for you,” satoru breathed out, looking past his wet white eyelashes and into [name]’s concern eyes, “i’d do anything, i mean it. i love you so, so, so much [name],”

“satoru, you’re really scaring me. what’s going on?”

“nothing bad, i promise. just, please, let me?” satoru begged, voice hoarse and tight as he pleaded with [name]. and with a patient nod coming from the man, he continued on, “you’ve made me so happy, happier than i’ve ever been, these past couple of years. you deal with me and my annoying bullshit everyday, you make sure i’m healthy and happy even when you’re so tired. you always take care of me, more than i give you credit for and i’m sorry that i’m so selfish sometimes. but, i promise i’ll do better. i’ll be better, for you. anything you want me to be, i’ll work so hard in becoming, for you. i want to make you as happy as you make me,” satoru gulps, feeling his throat closing up and his tears welling back up, “i love you so much, [name],”

taking in all of his words, [name]’s eyebrows furrowed in confliction. he still didn’t know if he should be concerned and worried or just let satoru go on. but then he felt his own eyes well up with tears when he felt how sincere satoru was being. how tight his large hand was holding his own, as if he were afraid that he’d slip away if his grip on him loosened even the slightest.

even when he tried lifting that hand up to wipe his tears away, satoru didn’t let him, keeping a steady grip on his hand. instead, his slender fingers came up to the side of his face and wiped the tears away with a calm smile on his face.

“you make me so happy, [name]. and i'm so happy to be here with you. you make everything worth it,” satoru said softly, “you love me so gently, so softly — unlike anyone else in my life has. you’re my entire world. i don’t know what i’d do without you here. i know i’m meant to stay by your side forever. i know my place in the world is wherever you are.”

there was a pause as now both of them were crying messes.

[name]’s eyes were shut as he tried to wipe his stream of tears away. so he didn’t see the way satoru dug through his pocket to take out the velvet box. and he didn’t see the way his hands shook as he propped the box to be open, didn’t see how nervous satoru looked in the moment of unveiling the ring.

what he did see though was the ring blaringly presenting itself to him and a grinning, crying satoru behind it. he heard the words leave his lips, “let’s stay together forever, okay? please, marry me, [name],”

and [name] didn't react.

not immediately. he was too shocked. his jaw had dropped and he looked between the ring and satoru, who was still happily crying. then, finally, he snapped out of it and enclosed his arms around his boyfriend’s (fiance’s?) neck and sobbed into his skin, “yes, yes, yes,” over and over.

satoru cried more, this time a smile on his face as he cried into the air. he felt the stream of wet tears go down his neck, but he didn’t pay them any mind. he only held [name] closer by his waist in a suffocating embrace.

he didn’t know if he believed in multiple universes theory, whatever that was, but he just wishes that if it were true: he’d find [name] in every single one. [name] was his one and only comfort in the hectic life that he lives, the one stable root that keeps him grounded.

the two seperated, smiling and laughing with each other as they messily kissed in celebration. when they pulled away, [name] and satoru watched as the latter shakily slipped the ring onto the former’s ring finger. and the h/c haired man had to cover his mouth once more at the sight. it was slightly loose, running on the bigger side, but it was perfect. he didn’t care. it could have been a paper ring and it would have been perfect.

“i love you satoru, so much, you don’t understand,”

“i love you more,” the other softly breathes out, staring at [name]’s ringed finger with pride, “more than you’d ever know.”

the two smiled and laughed at their confessions, joining in another hug as they were high off of their dopamine. wordlessly, satoru collapsed onto the bed with [name] laying on top of him. and as he took the other velvet box out, he tried slipping the ring onto his finger. but it didn’t even fit on his ring finger, so he had to work with it on his pinky.

“it’s kind of cute that way,” [name] says in amusement, comparing their hand size and laughing at the difference, “i like it,”

“if you like it that way, we can keep it this size, then,” satoru said simply, kissing the top of [name]’s head.

“wear it however you want to, satoru, it’s your ring,” [name] chides him, looking up to softly glare at him.

“the ring doesn’t mean anything by itself, you're the one that gives it meaning,” satoru says, squeezing [name]’s shoulders to bring him closer, “if you like it on the pinky, it stays on the pinky.”

rolling his eyes and deciding that nothing is going to get through his fiance’s head, [name] gave up on challenging satoru. instead, he cuddled closer into his side and breathed in his faint cologne and natural scent.

“i love you, satoru. my dear fiance,” he said into the fabric of his dress shirt, smiling against satoru’s ribs as he repeated the phrase in his head.

satoru didn’t bother biting back his smile as he tilted [name]’s head up to look up at him. he kissed him softly, gently moving their lips against each other in a passionate kiss. and when he pulled away, he made sure to keep eye contact as he said, “i love you more, [name], my dear fiance,”

#this is the pt. 2 from the poll i did earlier btw #since basketball player gojo satoru won....LMFOA #satoru male reader #satoru x male reader #gojo male reader #gojo x male reader #basketball player satoru gojo #basketball player gojo #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru male reader #jjk male reader #jjk x male reader #basketball player satoru

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mightbeimpossiblenotto · 8 days ago

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Show - Oct 30 - @rosekillermicrofic - 808 words - Warnings: none

“Will you please stop by Spellbinding Sound for me?” Pandora begged as soon as Evan picked up her call.

“‘Hello, Evan, my dearest brother,’” Evan said dryly. “I think you’re supposed to greet me at the very least before asking for a favor.”

Pandora sighed noisily. “I just need a new pack of reeds for my clarinet, and you know which ones to buy.”

Evan sighed back at her. “I suppose it is on the way home. I’ll drop by for you, if you make me dinner.”

“Deal,” Pandora said, hanging up immediately. Evan looked at his phone blankly, offended for a moment, before remembering she was probably in the middle of practicing when she called.

Spellbinding Sound was a small music supply shop that Pandora favored, and Evan had been sent there a few times on errands for her. He usually didn’t mind; the owner, an older man named Albus, was kind and patient. When Evan entered the store, though, he was already helping a customer.

“Would you like me to restring the instrument for you?” Albus was asking the man in front of him. The man was shorter than Evan, with dark, tousled hair and several face piercings: two on his lip, another on his eyebrow, another on his nose, too many to count on both ears. He was wearing a graphic band t-shirt over ripped-up jeans, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His bare arms were covered in tattoos, and they continued up his neck and down his hands. Evan found himself wondering where else the man was tattooed.

“No, thanks,” the man said in a smooth voice. “I like to do it myself.”

He picked up his strings, which Evan assumed were for some sort of guitar or bass for his punk band, based on the man’s appearance. The man nearly ran into Evan when he spun around and walked towards the door with a swift gait.

“My bad,” the man said, worrying one of the lip rings between his teeth for a moment. “I’m Barty.”

Confused as to why the man gave his name, Evan responded with his own. “Evan.”

Evan tried to step around Barty, but Barty stepped into his path again.

“You like music?” Barty asked, and before Evan could answer, he continued talking. “You should come to my show. Friday night at the Slytherin Stage. I hope I’ll see you there.”

Evan watched him walk out the door, raising both eyebrows at the man’s gall. Inviting him to a show was one thing, but leaving directly after the invite was just dramatic. Evan shook it off and stepped up to the counter and greeted Albus.

“Does Pandora need new reeds?” Albus asked knowingly, his eyes sparkling. Evan nodded. They chatted amicably while Albus grabbed the reeds for Evan, and processed the payment for them. Soon enough, Evan was on his way home to Pandora.

Evan didn’t even know why he was attending the concert. He wasn’t a punk music person — but something about Barty had made him want to learn more. Maybe it was his overconfidence or attractiveness, but Evan felt compelled to come to his show that evening. He was surprised that attendees were dressed so nicely, and he was glad that he had come directly after work, so he was still wearing his nice work slacks and a button-down shirt. As he took his seat in the audience, in a gorgeous emerald-green auditorium. He was starting to think he had greatly misread the man he’d spoken to, because there was no way he was about to see some sort of punk band performance.

Nerves flew in his stomach as he wondered what he had signed up for, just as the curtains pulled back and revealed an entire full symphony orchestra. Evan scanned the faces of every single person until he found Barty, sitting at the very front left. He was first chair violin, the goddamn concertmaster. Evan had him pegged completely wrong.

To make matters worse, Barty looked even more attractive in the emerald green suit and tie, with his instrument propped on his knee and his bow in his other hand. Evan had been so stupid to assume he played the guitar, when clearly Barty’s body had been made to hold the violin. The conductor raised his hands, and then lovely music filled the auditorium as the orchestra began.

Evan was entranced. He watched Barty throughout the entire performance, never taking his eyes off Barty’s graceful movements. He ended up lingering by the side stage, waiting for Barty after the show. When the man emerged, he looked surprised to see Evan there.

“You came,” he said softly, before seemingly shaking confidence back into himself. “You liked the show, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Evan said. “I really did.”

And then he stepped forward and kissed Barty.

#barty crouch jr #evan rosier #evan x barty #rosekiller #marauders #barty crouch x evan rosier #rosekiller microfic #microfic #microfic prompt #maurauders microfic

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lemoncrushh · 5 months ago

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Saturday Night

Summary: Harry needs comforting after his performance on SNL.

Warnings: None, lots of fluff and emotions

Word Count: 1639

A/N: One shot written in 2017 after Harry's appearance on SNL. I believe this was a request. Written in first person, but the woman's name is not given.

He was nervous.

He didn't want me or anyone else to know he was, but I could tell. And who wouldn't be? It was his first performance in over a year, and his first ever as a solo artist. I would have been nothing but a ball of nerves if it were me. He'd paced back and forth in the green room, spreading his fingers out as far as they would go, bringing them back into a fist over and over again, repeating the cycle each time he'd make it to the other end of the room and turn around on his heels.

I'd sat quietly on the sofa, nibbling on the display of fruit and crackers that sat in the middle of the coffee table. I was nervous too, but I said nothing unless it was to reply to a question, giving him the most space I possibly could. I'd asked him earlier if he would rather I took a seat in the audience, but he assured me he wanted me backstage, waiting for his return. Though he never expressed why exactly, I took it to mean he wanted me to be there for him, for him to see my face and perhaps share an embrace after he'd walked off stage, and I took comfort in that.

I'd watched his first performance on the monitor in the green room, sitting on the edge of my seat, my hands tucked underneath my thighs as I bit my bottom lip. By the end of the song, I'd felt my eyes well up, quickly wiping them away with the back of my hand before he saw. I could tell as soon as he walked in that he was less than pleased with himself. He'd missed a couple of notes, his voice raspier than usual from all the practicing, and once he'd even had to drop a word at the end of the phrase due to lack of air. I knew he had to be mentally scolding himself. But I'd thought it was flawless. He'd done it. He was Harry Styles, rockstar.

He didn't say a word to me as I rose from the couch and our eyes met. Instead, I saw his chest rise and fall with a deep breath before he removed his suit jacket and discarded it on a nearby chair.

I'd watched the rest of the show in the same spot, my gaze again meeting Harry's whenever he reemerged, but quickly faltering. I felt a tenseness in my muscles, a sourness in my stomach, wanting badly for him to tell me how he was feeling. But I knew better. He'd tell me when it was all over, and he could finally take a step away from it all and get out of his head. During the skits, he was his usual charismatic self, and I could tell he was having a good time. But I knew that during his second song, he was again in his head. Not that that was always a bad thing. Just as before, he was flawless, at least to me and probably ninety-nine percent of his fans. Though he seemed a little more relaxed than he had been during the first song, his nerves remained apparent. I wanted to hold him, to tell him how proud I was of him - remind him how incredible he was.

This time when he came into the room, I sensed a lighter air around him, a calmness. I let out a breath and smiled at him, to which he returned with a thumbs up, making me feel a little more at ease. However, he still said nothing, only rolling down his sleeves and grabbing his jacket to put back on. I bit my lip as I watched him on the screen one final time, to bow and blow kisses to the audience as Jimmy thanked him and the rest of the cast and crew. He looked genuinely happy, and that filled my heart with joy and pride.

I stuck around for a while after the show, allowing Harry to hug everyone and say goodbye. I could tell they all adored him, as it should be. I stood by his side while he chatted lightly with people, feeling his hand sometimes squeeze mine. I'd give his a squeeze back, our own little silent conversation. I could feel the tension dissipate from his body little by little as the evening progressed into early morning, though I knew eventually there would be a discussion with actual words. For the time being, I was content in letting him enjoy his moment, the friendly banter with the cast members serving him temporary distraction.

By the time we arrived at our hotel, Harry opting out of the cast party that followed, I could tell he was exhausted, though itching to finally talk. I sat on the edge of the bed, removing my shoes as I watched him, his back to me while he unbuttoned his shirt.

"You were amazing," I declared.

I saw his head turn slightly, though he didn't look at me.

"Coulda been better," he muttered with a shrug, shaking out of his shirt and tossing it on the floor.

I sighed as I rose from the bed, carrying my shoes to my suitcase.

"I don't think so," I argued. "It was perfect to me."

"Mm not to me," he huffed, pulling down his trousers. "I fucked up."

I stood frozen as I watched him cross to the bed and lie down, his arm over his eyes.

"I think you're a little hard on yourself," I said. "Everyone loved it."

"I didn't love it."

"Harry..." I murmured, climbing onto the bed next to him. "It was live television. You were bound to be nervous."

When he didn't reply right away, I worried that I'd said the wrong thing. I laid down beside him, watching his bare chest rise and fall. I wanted so badly to make him feel better.

"I'm really proud of you," I whispered.

Harry dropped his arm and blinked as he stared at the ceiling.

"You did exactly what you set out to do," I continued. "On your terms. Your rules. Your music. That's like every musician's dream. You're living it."

Turning his head finally to look at me, I saw his green eyes glisten.

"You liked it?" he asked, his voice scratchy.

"I loved it, baby," I replied. "And so did your fans. You have to know that, right? Everyone is rooting for you. We're on your side. A couple little glitches mean nothing. In fact, if anything, they made you more likable. It was so raw and real."

"It just sounded better in rehearsal," Harry muttered.

I tried my best to hold in a chuckle.

"You're such a perfectionist," I grinned. "But that's one of the things I like most about you. You keep pushing yourself because you know you can do it. That's what makes you great. That push...that drive...it's appealing."

Harry's expression softened as he sighed, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

"I'm just mad that I let my nerves get the better of me."

"It happens," I said. "But it didn't ruin the performance. It was spectacular."

I caught the corner of his mouth wiggle slightly. "Thanks, baby."

I scooted closer to him, placing my hand on his chest. I was relieved when he covered my hand with his and gave it a squeeze.

"You know how wonderful you are, right?" I asked rhetorically. "I envy you. Even though you might have been nervous tonight, you're the most fearless person I know. You just exude sheer talent, it's in your blood. I'm constantly hearing how kind and charming you are, and I'm so grateful I can attest to that because I see it with my own eyes. At least half the planet is crazy about you, and the other half just saw the show tonight and are gonna be talking about it for weeks."

I saw Harry's eyes blink faster at my words and he squeezed my hand tighter.

"I'm not saying all of this just to make you feel better," I stated. "I mean, I want you to feel better. But I'm saying it because it's true."

I pressed my lips to his cheek then, kissing a trail to the tiny freckles on his cheekbone and up to his temple.

"I'm so proud of you," I whispered again in his ear. "So proud."

With one last kiss, I released him and rolled onto my back. But within seconds, Harry followed, laying his head on my chest. He wound his arms around me, nearly taking my breath away. I smiled to myself as I heard him hum, the vibration tickling my skin from the inside. I let my fingers comb his hair as he continued to breathe and hum gently to the rhythm of my heartbeat. We laid there like that for several minutes until I thought he might be asleep.

"I love you," he spoke, making me jump.

"What?"

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. Although I'd known for a while that I was in love with him, neither of us had confessed our feelings for the other. Raising his head, Harry looked at me and crawled up my body so that he hovered over me. I stared into his eyes with anticipation until he closed them softly and lowered his mouth to mine. He kissed me passionately, like he had many times before, but somehow also differently.

"I love you," he repeated.

"Harry..." I murmured, pulling him back to me for another kiss. And another.

"I..." I stumbled between kisses. "I love you, too."

Harry grinned, pressing his lips to my forehead, then the bridge of my nose.

"I know," he said, before kissing my lips once more.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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thatoneyanderewriter · 11 months ago

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Deception

pairing: yandere!coriolanus snow x everdeen!reader

summary: it’s the things we love the most that destroy us.

warnings: yandere behavior, stalking, implied murder, violence, delusion, possessive!snow(as in VERY possessive) unhealthy relationships, superiority complex, narcissistic tendencies.

a/n: I love Lucy gray okay? but she didn’t exist in this! Just for the plot btw. also more yandere tbosas characters to come!

Coriolanus liked to think that he was always on top. Snows were, after all, very prominent. That was what was keeping him going in life. His name.

This mentorship would be the key to his future. He had already decided he wanted to be the President of Panem, another way for him to gain control.

He first notices you at the reaping. Not physically. But it’s programmed live, so everyone could see. You stood out. Maybe not on purpose, but to him you did.

“District 12 Girl is Y/N Everdeen.”

The Mayor looked smug. You look over to a smug redhead. He wondered what past you shared with her. And you stood tall and confident. You kept your expression the same as you walk.

The redhead screamed, as the mayor called for help. That was revenge. But you didn’t do anything else, as you stood, the Mayor slapped you so hard you were off of your knees.

But you made no reaction as you stood back up, giving the mayor a warm smile as he was taken away. This was your opportunity, sure. You went over to the mic simply said,”Thank you, hope you enjoyed the show!”

Stepping back, You bowed, and added,”I hope you’ll enjoy my show just as much as I do!” You acted as if the audience was cheering, but it was silence.

The Peacekeepers shove you inside as Jessup is announced as the District 12 Male. You shake hands and that’s one of the last moments of the reaping he sees of you.

To be honest, receiving District 12 was a slap to the face. It was the small, joke district. It was clear Dean Highbottom had something against him, giving it to him on purpose.

In fairness, Coriolanus had made fun of him with friends behind his back, but still. It wasn’t fair. His petty resentment shouldn’t intertwine with his work.

But, you had some sort of gift. One he’d use to his advantage when it came to winning the games. And clearly, people liked you.

“I’ll have to admit, Coriolanus, you’ve gotten lucky, His fellow classmate, Hilarius teased. “I have, He replied proudly, having placed his plate next to Clemensia, He spots pie and immediately goes after it.

He hadn’t had Apple Pie in quite some time. The thought of it made his stomach growl. When all of a sudden, Dean Highbottom placed a bogger slice on his plate.”Oh, take a big one. Growing boy like you can handle it.”

Coriolanus grins at him. Thank you, sir. I can always find room for pie.” The Dean responds, “Yes, pleasures are never hard to accommodate, No one would know better than I.”

He never liked Dean Highbottom. He probably only had his position due to his fame of creating the hunger games.

The conversation sent chills down Coriolanus’ spine when Dean Highbottom spoke the words,”Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and your too-tight shoes, trying to hold it together. Strutting around the Capitol, when I doubt the Snows have a pot to piss in. Even with a prize, it would be a stretch, and you don’t yet have one, do you? What then, I wonder, would happen to you? What then?”

The next morning, Coriolanus stood at the Train Station. After hearing about the arrival of the tributes, he felt it was best to see you personally. A start that most hadn’t jumped to.

This made him feel more confident. And in his hand was a white rose, one from his grandmother’s garden. It was Tigris who suggested bringing a gift. And his cousin was never wrong, most of the time at least.

The train was a bit late but when you arrived, didn’t run per se, but rushed over to you, rose in hand. “Welcome to the Capitol, He greeted you.

You look up at him.”You shouldn’t be here, well, you don’t look like you do.” “I probably shouldn’t, He admits. You laugh a little, but aren’t scared. You don’t trust him right away of course.

“So then, What’s a Capitol boy like you doing around here? You ask, eyeing his clothing. “I’m your mentor, He said.”And I wanted to know you without the Capitol.”

“Hm, a rebel, You teased, taking the rose from him.”Does everyone have a mentor?” “Yes, but the others are waiting I suppose, He winked.

Coriolanus was intrigued. You were a bit more bold and confident than he expected. But the reaping showed a little bit of that.

“What does my mentor do besides bringing roses? You joke. “I do my best to take care of you, He said.”Coriolanus Snow.”

“I’m sure, if you’re my mentor, you know my name, but I like yours, You compliment.”And good luck, by the way. A lot of people don’t like me. Might try to kill you too.”

It was a clear joke, but Coriolanus was still puzzled. How could anyone hate you? You weren’t dangerous by any means, and the confidence you had became attractive to him, almost.

You expect to go on by yourself, but Coriolanus joins beside you, being shoved into the platform. He did so much for you, and maybe you should’ve done more. Then, you saved his life. Out of oath and a sense of guilt. And the fact you wanted to help people, not do the opposite.

Eventually, The games ended. And while Coriolanus was certainly relieved. Dean Highbottom found out about his little favor to help you win.

He just had to see you one last time. To say that he had grown infatuated was an understatement. You just were very charming, and sweet. Naive, even. Maybe not from your eyes, but his? Definitely.

“Are you okay? You ask.”You seemed urgent when you asked to meet up.” It was secret, just like your relationship.

“They’re punishing me, He said.”I don’t know if I’ll see you again. I cheated to help you win.” “I would’ve done the same, Coryo, You remind him.”Besides, I owe you. What’s your punishment?”

He could either lie, or tell you the truth. See, he always felt like you needed to be saved by him. He was superior, in a way. Of course he loved you, but he wanted to protect you too.

“I’m going to be a Peacekeeper for 20 years, He admits.”Protocol, but at least I won’t suffer humiliation.”

You chuckle.”I know, Coryo. I’d rather suffer humiliation than be a Peacekeeper. Will I see you again?” He replied,”I don’t know.”

But when you kiss him, it feel incredible. You loved him so. And from your eyes, he loved you too, yet it didn’t change your confidence and boldness.

He was well aware that you would’ve stood up for what’s right. You were an Everdeen. A family of that, according to you.

But truthfully, he insisted on district 12. “Well, they’re sending me back too, Coryo, You tell him.”Might pick up on more jobs to survive.”

He kissed you roughly one last time. Even though he was sure he’d see you again. Maybe without your knowledge.

When you came home, you did as you said. You picked up on more jobs. And when he first was there began following you, more like stalking you, but he was protective of you, his girl, he’d say to himself.

He didn’t want anyone else to have you. And he knew his silly infatuation became an Obsession. But this wasn’t new. Not in the slightest.

You began singing a little at the Hob, alongside the Covey, a group of musicians. You didn’t sing too much, he notices.

But when you did sing, you sang beautifully. You always sang what you felt. And he admired it. One night, however, you noticed him. But made a small reaction, turning back to the song.

When you ended, you rushed over.”Coryo. Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Surprised? He teased. “A little, You admit.”But, I knew you would. It wasn’t too much of a surprise. Nice buzz cut.”

He laughed, your fingers brushing over his shaved head. He’d miss his curls, but they’d return. “Where’s Sejanus? You ask.

You find him within the crowd, and start up a conversation. However, the night ends with you and Coriolanus, like how he wanted.

His ever growing possessiveness for you was showing a little, his grip on your hand was strong. You didn’t care, though. Not at first. You might not see him again. Or rarely.

Your judgement was clouded by the feeling of Love. A feeling many experience at your age. “Y/N, A voice said drunkenly.

You turn, annoyance in your tone.”What? I know exactly why you’re here.” Your former lover, well, truthfully, a one-sided crush at that. He just thought you were lovers.

He'd believe Mayfair over you, on a lie. that was it for you. “Come on, I miss what we had! He whines. “As if it was anything special, You scoffed.”See, if you hadn’t believed that redhead, it would’ve been just fine. She tried to kill me!”

Coriolanus wouldn’t admit it, at least to you, but he was fuming. His jaw clenched, and obvious signs of frustration. You soothe him, or try to. “Coryo, he’s an idiot, You say, assuringly.

“Ah, your new victim? Your former friend said jokingly, but anger in his voice.”She’s just using you, like with me.”

And that seemed to be it. You could only watch as his fists landed on his face. Stumbling back, he groans.”What the-“ Coriolanus wasn’t done. Now relying on his anger, jealousy, and bloodlust. He punched his jaw, so badly that by the time he was done, which was after a few times, his knuckles were bleeding, and blood landed on him.

Clearly, he was good as dead. This was a side you hadn’t seen before. But nonetheless, You couldn’t react. “Coryo… You could only say. And as he looks up, he hugs you, a bit more passionately than usual.

“You were never here. Go. I can handle it.”

You decide on listening. He wasn’t even really suggesting, but rather ordering. And you didn’t want to stay a moment longer.

Truthfully, He felt a sense of power, and control when he was punching him. You were his, not your former friend’s. He had to make sure of that.

It was a swift process, he had killed before, technically having no other choice but still, he was worried you wouldn’t forgive him. Or tell someone. That would ruin his future.

Of course, it didn’t mean he regretted doing so. He loved the feeling he got. The violence itself he enjoyed. And the way he spoke of you, it was justified. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.

“Coryo, are you alright?”

Hearing your voice, his head spins. Your voice was like a bell to him. “I’m fine, are you? He hurt you? Coriolanus asked in response.

You shake your head.”He’s done this before. He may have hurt me once, but not again.” It was stupid, in your eyes. It wasn’t like he was a lover of yours, just your best friend. You thought he’d choose you over Mayfair, who clearly had her eyes on him.

Which wouldn’t be a problem, if she wasn’t a bitch. “As long as I’m here, Nobody will hurt you, Coriolanus assured you. You smile.”I know. And that’s why I love you, Coryo. Always there for me. I owe you big time.”

You owed him, and he’d never let you forget that. You belonged to him, and nobody else. You better remember that.

#coriolanus snow x reader #yandere coriolanus snow #everdeen!reader

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yuoimia · 1 year ago

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one chance pt.2

summary: you give them one chance. how do they use it?

characters: kazuha, lyney, wanderer, zhongli

notes: zhongli’s is super rushed im sorry, gn reader! wc: 200-400

part 1: alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley

kazuha

Lethargic movements of cascading waves rock the ship, emanating a warm ambience of comfort, wrapping you around in a dreamlike mist. It’s dark, the cabin is silent, and dawn is slowly approaching. Nevertheless, swallowed in the labyrinth of blankets and pillows, your sleep is undisturbed, a line of drool evident on your chin.

Unlike usual, the space next to you is empty. Strange, isn’t it? The whole blanket has been carefully intertwined around you, a beautifully simple yet loving action calculated from the very depths of his heart.

It’s likely that you’ve probably forgotten.

The one chance you’ve given him, the perfect time, and Kazuha would be a fool to let it pass.

—

The sudden explosion of sunlight almost blinds you.

“Kazuha… It’s too early,” you mumble incoherently, sleep still tangling your words, your movements sluggish as you follow his blurry figure. “Besides, where are you taking me?”

Kazuha rotates to face you, a gentle smile plastered on his cheeky face. Almost flirtatious.

“Take my hand,” he whispers, etching closer and pulling you just a bit further. “And look.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, moving to your side, revealing the dazzling sky he promised since day one.

lyney

Sitting in the front row of the Opera Epiclese means you’re able to catch the smaller things. Actions are more precise, mistakes become more prominent, and, of course, the stars are always shining more magnificently than ever.

Tonight, it’s Lyney and Lynette.

Their voices glide over the exhilarated crowds, cheering and clapping jubilantly at the success of one of the final tricks. Confetti rains from the ceilings, glitter gleams from every corner, and finally, it’s time for the show to end.

The curtains aren’t closing, and no one is moving.

That mischievous glint in his eyes, directed solely at you as he bows, a discreet hint on what he’s going to commit next.

—

A vibrant bouquet of rainbow roses lands on your lap.

You look around, and for a second, you’re confused.

Then you finally understand. It’s almost humorous how he managed to remember that small promise.

Everyone else has a singular, crimson rose.

“A beautiful red rose as a token of our appreciation,” Lyney announces, beaming towards the audience. “And a single bouquet gifted the most delightful person here, who once told me that I had only one chance to charm them without words.”

When his eyes meet yours, it’s victorious—painfully so. Almost as if saying to you: I told you, didn’t I?

wanderer

You’ve been staring at the bland ceilings of your shared bedroom for nearly all day.

The furniture that once was neatly placed in their respective areas are now all messily piled up against the door. It’s locked, but today, you were highly determined to be as agitating as your boyfriend was, no matter how many stacks of furniture it’s going to take. Even if a small part of your resolve was beginning to run out like the sand in an hourglass.

You’re currently debating if you should just abandon this fruitless attempt. He always did this better anyway. Being sulky was really not your thing, and perhaps he knew that too; otherwise, he likely would’ve barged in the first few seconds of your outburst of annoyance.

There only seems to be one problem—a big problem. How are you going to return the stacks of furniture to their original placement in the most quiet fashion so he wouldn’t suspect a thing? So that he wouldn’t suspect that you’ve lost your own competition? You didn’t even bother to conceal the scrapes and bangs when first assembling it.

A few ideas spout in your head, each more desperate and ridiculous than the previous.

An irritating sigh escapes from you as you flop back onto the bed, once again back to square one.

—

From somewhere within the depths of your shared bedroom, a snicker escapes. And then another.

The variety of sleep lines on your arm and heavy pounding in your head are evidence that you fell asleep. When you sit up, movements tired and slow, everything looks and feels lopsided. As if the world had been rearranged. The space before the door looks so empty… Wait, didn’t it hold a barricade of furniture before?

Everything begins to connect; you begin to piece together all the possibilities, but not before someone has to butt in.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

The closeness of the voice startles you; the warm familiarity sending a coded message down your spine.

Next to you on the bed, lying on his side, looking all proud and pleased, is the only person who could get away with all this. Winning your heart and being every exception.

“This is the only time I’ll forgive you. This was your last chance, okay?” you warn.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies airily as he sinks beneath the covers. “You’ll repeat that the next few hundred times too.”

zhongli

Strange things have been happening these past few months.

Maybe you’re just overthinking it, but you swear everyone knows something you don’t. The only person you can agree is just as clueless about it all: the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Mr Zhongli.

However, he’s also been acting a bit unusual lately. You haven’t seen him in a while, and you’re not stupid enough to believe that it’s a coincidence that you never bump into him anymore.

The possibility makes your heart sink.

Moving on, you assess his boss, Director Hu. Typically bright and vivacious, more than often singing lively poems throughout Liyue.

Lately, she’s been more short-tempered. You recall her complaining about something about having a scaredy-cat consultant just yesterday evening.

As if she could hear your thoughts, a hushed ‘boo’ comes from one of the bushes.

—

“Aiyaaa… This bush is so spiky..."

“Director Hu? What are you doing hiding in a bush?”

She glances up, rubbing her sore arms before squeezing further into the bush with a desperate, “Shush! He’s coming!” at your bewildered expression.

You turn to where she was pointing, and it’s…Zhongli?

Zhongli with a bouquet of glaze lilies?

Your breath hitches as he gets closer, a gentle smile gracing his face as he offers you his hand.

The split second before he hands you the exquisite bouquet, a faint giggle is heard from behind you.

“Guess you’re no longer a scaredy-cat anymore, Mr. Zhongli? It’s about time; he’s been dying to do this for months.”

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #kazuha x reader #lyney x reader #wanderer x reader #zhongli x reader #anya writes ✧.*

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