#and they end up sitting there at the dinner table

[badathumanemotions]

Hey, would you be able to write a nsfw fic with spencer but maybe where a few of the team members decide to play poker at Rossi’s and it turns into strip poker with like a bit of truth or dare and you end up sat on Spencer’s lap with like barely any clothes on or smt. And then like later they end up having to share a room at rossi’s and then yk..

High Stakes

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Strip Poker, Half Naked Lap Sitting, Grinding, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Face Fucking, Dirty Talk. WC: 5,799 I have no idea how to play poker. (Not Proof Read)

"Alright, who's up for a round of poker?" Derek Morgan announced, his eyes scanning the table.

You looked around at the weary but smiling faces of your teammates. After a long, successful case, dinner at Rossi's had been the perfect way to unwind. The aroma of his homemade lasagna still lingered in the air, mingling with the sweetness of their dessert.

"I think I'll pass," Aaron said, pushing back his chair with a stretch. "It's been a long day. I'd love to join you all, but I better get home to Haley and Jack." His eyes crinkled at the mention of his wife and son.

Rossi nodded, understanding. "Alright, I'll walk you out." They disappeared into the hallway, leaving the rest of the team to rearrange the furniture in the den.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. "You in?" Emily Prentiss asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You nodded, trying to hide your nerves. "Sure, I'm in. It's been a while since I played, but I'll give it a shot."

The table was soon set up with cards, chips, and drinks. You took a seat next to Spencer, who was already shuffling the deck with a focused intensity that was a little unnerving.

"Okay, everyone," Rossi called out as he re-entered the room. "Let's get this game started." He took his place at the table, his eyes showing a hint of fatigue. "But remember, I'm only playing a couple of hands. It's been a long day and I need my beauty sleep." His comment was met with laughter from the others.

The first hand of poker began, with Spencer dealing the cards with a swiftness that spoke of his years of experience playing the game. His eyes darted around the table, reading the subtle tells of his teammates. You took a deep breath and picked up your cards, feeling the smooth edges against your fingertips.

As the hand unfolded, the banter grew more playful, the stakes rising with each round of betting. You watched as Derek Morgan's face remained unreadable, his poker face firmly in place. Meanwhile, JJ's occasional glances at her cards betrayed her excitement, while Garcia's fidgeting with her chips was a clear sign she was bluffing.

Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his cards, his mind racing through probabilities and possible outcomes. When it came down to the showdown, he laid out a full house with a smug smile. "Well, well, well," he said, collecting his winnings. "It seems like Lady Luck is on my side tonight."

The room buzzed with good-natured groans and teasing. "How does he do it?" JJ jokes, shaking her head.

A couple more rounds went by, the tension rising as the pot grew. Each of you played strategically, the air filled with anticipation and the clinking of chips. Prentiss leaned back in her chair, her arms folded as she studied the table.

Finally, after one particularly intense round, Rossi rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Alright, I think I've had enough fun for one night. I'm going to call it quits and head upstairs." He glanced around the table. "If anyone wants to crash here tonight, the guest rooms are all yours. No need to drive home if you're feeling too tired."

The team bid him good night, their eyes lingering on the chips and cards as they continued to play. With Rossi's departure, the atmosphere grew slightly more competitive. You felt a thrill as the game went on, the camaraderie of the team mixing with the cutthroat nature of poker.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin spread across his face. "You know what would make this night even better?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that?" Prentiss asked, her interest piqued.

Morgan's grin widened. "How about we spice things up a bit?" He suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Strip poker, anyone?"

The room fell silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. You felt your cheeks heat up, surprised by the proposal. Prentiss's smile grew wicked. "Now that's a twist," she said, her gaze flickering to JJ.

JJ caught your eye and noticed your hesitance. She leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on the table. "You know, we can always play truth or dare instead," she suggested, her voice low and soothing. "It's less… risky."

Morgan's smile grew. "How about both?" he proposed, raising the stakes. "You can opt to either take a piece of clothing off or complete a truth or dare from the group." The room buzzed with excitement and a little trepidation. You swallowed hard, trying to decide if you were ready for this.

Garcia squealed with delight. "I'm in!" she exclaimed, her cheeks already pink.

You took a deep breath, the adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. The thought of playing strip poker was a bit intimidating, but the alternative rule of truth or dare had its own thrill. You found yourself nodding in agreement. "Alright, why not? Strip poker with a twist it is."

The game continued, the stakes now higher in more ways than one. Garcia was the first to go, losing a shoe to a bad bluff. She giggled, tossing it aside and taking a shot of tequila.

JJ's eyes widened slightly as she had to remove her sweater, revealing a tight tank top underneath. The room was getting warmer, and not just from the heat of the game. The tension grew palpable as each player weighed their options: fold and risk embarrassment, or push on and hope for the win.

You felt your heart race as the game continued. With each round, the pile of clothing on the floor grew. Before you knew it, you were down to your last few pieces of clothing.

The next hand was dealt, and you picked up your cards with trembling hands. You had a good hand, but the idea of losing was now more than just about the game. You studied the faces around the table, looking for signs of who might be bluffing.

Morgan leaned in, his gaze intense. "You're looking a little flushed, Y/N," he teased. "Is it the game or the thought of what's next?"

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. The game had indeed taken a turn, and you found yourself in a situation you never would have imagined when you accepted the dinner invitation. You had continued playing, the excitement and the thrill of the game keeping you in your seat until you were down to just your bra, skirt, and panties.

The hand began, and you focused on your cards. You had a decent hand, but not a sure win. The betting went around the table, each person raising the stakes. You looked around, trying to read their faces, their body language, looking for any hint of what they might be hiding.

As the final round of bets were placed, you felt the weight of the moment. If you won this hand, you could keep your skirt on. If not, well, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. You placed your bet, trying to keep your voice steady.

Morgan called, his smile never wavering. Prentiss folded, a knowing look in her eye. Spencer studied you closely, his cards held tight to his chest. Garcia bobbed in her chair, her curiosity and excitement palpable.

As the tension grew, so did the distraction of your state of undress. You noticed Spencer's eyes darting to your chest every few seconds, the effort he was making not to stare becoming more and more obvious. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of power at the sight of him so flustered. The others had also caught on. They knew Spencer's intense focus was split, and they hoped to use his distraction to their advantage.

The final card was flipped, and you watched in horror as Morgan revealed his winning hand. The room erupted in cheers and whistles, your heart sinking as you realized you had lost your last piece of lower body clothing. With a dramatic flourish, you stood and dropped your skirt to the floor.

Spencer's eyes traced down your legs, his cheeks reddening when he realized he'd been caught staring. He quickly looked away. The room fell silent for a moment before the laughter and clapping began again.

Others had invoked the truth or dare clause here and there, but you hadn't yet. Each time someone chose dare, it seemed to push the boundaries a little further. Garcia had to sing a karaoke song, JJ had to do a sexy dance, and Prentiss had to tell a steamy secret from her past. Each moment had been met with laughter and cheers, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the real fun was just getting started.

The next hand was dealt, and your heart pounded in your chest as you realized you had nothing. You didn't want to remove your bra, so you knew what you had to do. You took a deep breath and announced, "Dare." The room grew quiet, all eyes on you.

Morgan's grin grew wicked. "I dare Y/N to sit on Spencer's lap for the rest of the night." A chorus of laughter and cheers erupted around the table. Spencer's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks burning.

You felt your own cheeks rouge at the suggestion, your heart skipping a beat. Being that close to Spencer, especially in your current state of half-dress, was both thrilling and terrifying. But the excitement of the game and the desire to keep playing overrode your nerves. You nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "Fine."

Spencer's body moved back before he even had time to process the words. His chair scraped against the wooden floor, creating a sharp sound that echoed in the tension-filled room. He looked up at you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise and something else that you couldn't quite decipher.

You took a deep breath and slid onto his lap with more confidence than you felt. His body was tense beneath you, his muscles rigid as he held himself perfectly still. You could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into you. Your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might leap out of your chest.

The others smirked as they shuffled the cards for the next round. They could see the electric tension between you and Spencer, and it only added to the excitement of the game. Prentiss began to deal, her eyes glinting with amusement as she took in the situation.

The next few rounds, Spencer's focus was undeniably scattered. His usual poker face was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a constant battle to not look at you sitting on his lap. His hands fumbled with his cards, and his bets were erratic. It didn't take long before the team noticed and capitalized on his distraction.

"Looks like someone's lost their mojo," Prentiss teased, placing her cards on the table with a smirk. You tried to ignore the smug looks from the others, focusing instead on the way Spencer's breath hitched every time you shifted slightly.

The next hand was dealt, and you could see the determination in Spencer's eyes as he picked up his cards. This time, you noticed the way his thumb brushed against your bare skin as he held his cards, and the electricity that shot through you was anything but calming.

You tried to keep your focus on the cards in your hand, but Spencer's proximity was making it near impossible. His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath you. You thought you had been careful hiding your cards, but apparently, not that careful.

"You're holding your cards too tight," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and gentle. "It's giving you away." You felt a shiver run down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him slightly. His scent filled your nose and it made your head swim.

You took a deep breath and tried to loosen your grip, his words sinking in. The whispers continued, his breath warm against your neck as he pointed out small tells from the others at the table. His voice was a comforting rumble, guiding you through the game.

Slowly, the closeness didn't feel so awkward. In fact, there was a strange sense of comfort in having him so near. You found yourself leaning into him slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist in a protective embrace.

As the game went on, Spencer's whispers grew more frequent. He noticed every little detail about the others' playing styles, sharing his insights with you in hushed tones. "Look at how Garcia's thumb is pressing down on her chips," he murmured. "She's bluffing." His voice was low and calming, his words of advice a secret shared between the two of you.

You followed his lead, and slowly, you saw your luck begin to change. You won a couple hands, the pile of chips in front of you growing. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the gentle guidance of his whispers had a surprising effect on you. You felt more relaxed, more confident. The daring glances and smiles you exchanged with him grew more frequent, hinting at the thrill you both felt.

Then it happened. As you readjusted yourself higher on his lap for better comfort, you felt it. The unmistakable pressure of Spencer's erection against your backside. A blush crept up your neck, and you froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. His breath hitched, and you knew he was just as aware of it as you were. The room's temperature seemed to rise a few degrees.

You wondered how long he had been like that and how you hadn't noticed it before. His arm tightened around your waist, and you felt a low groan in his chest. You felt yourself start to get wet, the heat and the thrill of the moment making your body react despite the situation. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Without realizing it, your hips had begun to slightly rock against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his cock growing harder with every movement. The others at the table were too engrossed in the game to notice, but you were acutely aware of every little sound and sensation.

Spencer's breathing grew shallower. His hips made the tiniest of movements, pushing back into you in a silent bid for more. You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, but it was getting harder by the second.

The game continued around you, but the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Each time his hips rocked against yours, it sent a jolt of desire through your body. You could feel your own breath quickening, your chest rising and falling more noticeably with every shallow breath.

You tried to keep your poker face, focusing on the cards in your hand, but it was difficult when you could feel his hardness pressing into you. Spencer's whispers grew softer, his voice a gentle rumble that made your skin tingle.

Suddenly, Garcia broke the spell, standing up from the table with a dramatic yawn. "Alright, I think I've had enough for tonight," she announced, her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol. "I'm going to crash in one of the guest rooms."

Her declaration created a domino effect. One by one, the others began to nod in agreement. The energy of the game dissipated as they all started to collect their scattered clothing. You felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as Spencer's arm loosened around your waist.

Reluctantly, you slid off Spencer's lap and began to gather your clothes from the floor. The fabric felt cold against your skin, which was now sensitive from his warmth. You couldn't help but feel the loss of his touch as you dressed, the excitement of the moment fading into a confusing mix of arousal and awkwardness.

"Thank you for a… memorable game," Spencer said, his voice strained as he stood up. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding yours.

You tried to ignore the wetness between your legs as you helped the others clean up, focusing on the mundane task of gathering the cards and chips. Your body was still humming with the tension that had built up during the daring rounds of poker. The room felt too small, too hot, as you tried to act like nothing had changed.

The group chattered about who would take which guest room, the conversation light and easy. Yet, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment lingering in the air. The way Spencer's arm had felt around your waist, his erection pressing into you, was etched into your mind.

"Dibs on Morgan!" Garcia exclaimed, slapping a hand on Derek's arm playfully.

You laughed along with everyone else, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

"Alright, let's all head upstairs," Prentiss suggested, breaking the spell. "Three guest rooms, and we're all adults here."

You nodded, eager to escape the charged atmosphere, and followed the group up the stairs. You felt Spencer's gaze on you, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking the same things you were.

Without a word, Emily and JJ claimed the first room they saw. Garcia and Morgan didn't waste any time either, disappearing into the room across the hall. That left you and Spencer, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension as you both stared at the last guest room at the end of the hallway.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Spencer's eyes darted to the room before meeting yours. "Looks like we're sharing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of something that was definitely not disappointment.

With a sudden burst of courage, you grabbed his hand, your pulse quickening. He looked surprised but didn't resist as you led him to the last open guest room.

Once you closed the door, you pushed Spencer to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes widening as you straddled his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

"Do you want this?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he saw was the same hunger reflected in his own.

"God yes," he replied, crashing his lips against yours with a fervour that stole your breath. The heat between you was undeniable as your bodies collided, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The kiss was deep and hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he could devour you whole.

You grind against his lap, happy to feel that he was still semi-hard. His grip on you tightened, and you could feel his cock growing harder with every movement of your hips. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, panting heavily. Spencer's eyes followed your every move as you stood up and began to strip away your clothing, until you were left in your underwear.

You sat back down onto his lap, this time with a sense of purpose, your legs straddling his. He groaned into your neck, his hands roaming over your bare skin as you kissed along his jawline. His touch was gentle yet firm, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went.

Spencer's fingers slid up the outside of your thighs, his touch feather-light, sending shivers of anticipation through you. His grip tightened as they reached your ass, cupping you firmly. He pulled you closer, aligning your hips with his, and you gasped as his erection pressed against you.

You rocked back and forth, the friction building between your bodies. His breath was hot against your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure grew.

Suddenly, the angle was just right. Your clit rubbed against his erection with just the right amount of friction, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. The sensation was intense, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bit back a moan.

With every grind, you grew closer to the edge, your breath coming in short gasps. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body trembling with the effort to stay in control. Then, with a final, desperate thrust, you climaxed, your body shuddering in his embrace.

Spencer watched you, his eyes hooded with lust. He could feel your wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties, and it was all he could do to keep from tearing them off.

With a surprising show of strength, Spencer picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You gasped as he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was desire mirrored back at him.

His hands traced the line of your underwear, his thumbs hooking under the waistband. Slowly, so painfully slow, he began to lower your panties. You watched as he pulled them down, revealing your wetness to the cool air of the room. Instead of tossing them aside, he folded the damp fabric and tucked it into his back pocket with a smirk.

He spread your legs wide, taking in the sight of you with a hunger that made you blush even deeper. His eyes roamed over your bare skin, lingering on your most sensitive spots. He leaned in, his breath hot against your folds, and you shivered.

Without further teasing, Spencer's tongue darted out, licking a slow path up your slit. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. He took his time, savouring the taste of you. His tongue was soft and insistent, lapping at your clit and dipping into your entrance.

You grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheets, your back arching off the mattress as he worked you into a frenzy. The feeling of his mouth on you was heavenly, his skilled tongue flicking and pressing in just the right places. You were so close, your body tightening in anticipation of another orgasm.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge again, Spencer paused, leaving you panting and desperate. He slid a finger into your wetness, and you could feel him smiling against your skin as he found your g-spot with ease. The addition of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your legs quiver.

As his tongue danced over your clit, his fingers began to move inside you in a rhythm that was both torturous and heavenly. He knew exactly how to hit that spot, his movements measured and precise, as if he had studied your body's every response. You moaned, your body begging for more as he continued to explore you with his mouth.

Spencer's mouth grew more urgent, his tongue lapping and sucking on your clit messily. He was too desperate to care about the wet sounds he was making, too lost in the taste of you to be self-conscious. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, and you gasped, your nails digging into his scalp as you held him in place.

He could feel your orgasm building, the way your muscles tightened around his fingers. With one final, deliberate thrust, he pushed you over the edge, his tongue never leaving your clit as you came hard against his mouth.

As your body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, you felt a surge of energy rather than exhaustion. The orgasm had been so intense that it seemed to have recharged you. Without warning, you sprang up from the bed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you turned to face Spencer.

You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Spencer's eyes widened, his gaze drinking in the sight of your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air.

Standing before him, you began to strip Spencer of his clothes. Once down to his last article of clothing you knelt before Spencer, your eyes never leaving his as you gripped the waistband of his boxers. His eyes darkened with anticipation as you began to pull them down his legs, revealing his cock, which stood at full attention. Your heart raced as you took in the sight of him, the anticipation of what was to come making your own body respond in kind.

You reached out and gently touched his cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it. Spencer's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you explored his length with curious fingers. The tip was wet with pre-cum, and you couldn't resist leaning in to taste him. Your tongue flicked out, a soft and tentative touch that made him jerk in surprise.

Encouraged, you took him fully into your mouth, his length stretching your lips wide. You could feel his hands tighten in your hair as you began to suck, your mouth moving in a steady rhythm. Spencer moaned, his hips forward to meet your eager mouth. You took him deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

You paused for a moment to adjust, then took him as far as you could, holding yourself there and swallowing around his tip. The sensation was overwhelming for Spencer, his eyes rolling back in his head. His hips bucked slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, and you could feel his muscles tightening beneath your fingertips.

Finally, you pulled off of him, licking your lips to catch the last drops of his arousal. Looking him in the eye, you whispered, "Use me." It was a simple request, but it held a world of meaning. You wanted him to take control, to show you the full extent of his power over you.

Without hesitation, Spencer grabbed the hair at the back of your head and guided his cock back into your mouth. You moaned around him. He began to move his hips, fucking into your mouth with a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with every passing stroke. His grip on your hair tightened.

Your eyes peered up at him, watering slightly from the effort to keep up with his pace. You could see the desire in his gaze, the way his pupils had blown wide with lust. It was a heady feeling, knowing you had this powerful, intelligent man at your mercy, reduced to a trembling mess by your touch.

But Spencer had other plans. He pulled out of your mouth with a soft groan, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky. "I want to feel you first."

With surprising strength, he offered you a hand and pulled you up from the floor. Your legs were shaky, but he held you steady. You climbed onto the bed, feeling the cool sheets beneath your knees. You positioned yourself on all fours, the soft mattress sinking slightly with your weight.

You dropped from your hands to your elbows, arching your back and sticking your ass up in the air. You couldn't help but wiggle your hips back and forth, a silent invitation to Spencer.

He moaned at the sight, his eyes glazed over with desire. He scrambled onto the bed behind you. His hand reached out to cup your ass cheeks, the heat of his palms searing into your skin.

Spencer spread your pussy lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the glistening wetness that leaked from your swollen entrance. His groan was low and guttural, a sound that sent a thrill of pleasure through your body. His thumbs traced slow circles around your opening, teasing your sensitive flesh.

With agonizing slowness, you felt the tip of his cock nudge against you. He pushed in gently, the head of his erection parting your folds. You gasped, your muscles clenching around the unyielding intrusion. Spencer waited, giving you a moment to adjust.

Inch by inch, he filled you up, his cock stretching you deliciously. You could feel every ridge and vein, his length sliding deep within you until you were fully impaled. He didn't move for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so completely filled.

Then, once he felt you relax, Spencer set a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass. The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the rhythmic slapping echoing off the walls.

You whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensation. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't want it to stop. Spencer's hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you back onto him with each thrust.

The scent of sex and desire filled the room as he claimed you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the wetness of your pussy. Each time he pushed into you, your nipples scraped against the soft cotton of the bed sheets. The friction was maddening, making your already sensitive breasts feel like they were on fire.

Spencer's hands moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he adjusted his angle. He threw his weight into each thrust, the force of his hips pushing you further into the bed with every movement.

Then he slid one hand down your body, his fingertips skimming over your stomach and pausing when they reached the apex of your thighs. He found your clit, swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention, and began to rub it in gentle circles.

The combination of his deep strokes and the pressure on your clit was too much. You felt yourself climbing again, the pleasure building to a crescendo. You began to moan, the sound muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in.

Spencer leaned over, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you like that?" he whispered. "Do you like it when I fuck you like this?" He grunts out.

You nodded, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form coherent words. His whispers grew more explicit, describing every little sensation he felt, every way your body was responding to his. "You're so tight, so wet for me," he continues. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so tight."

With each thrust, he whispered about his desire for you, how long he had fantasized about this moment. "I've wanted to fuck you like this for so long," he groaned. "To feel you this way, to hear you like this." His words were like a drug, leaving you craving more.

"Remember when you were on my lap downstairs?" Spencer panted, his hips never slowing. "How badly I wanted to rip your panties off and bury my cock inside you?"

You moaned, his words painting a vivid picture in your mind. The thought of him wanting you that badly, of him fighting his urges while everyone else played the game, was an aphrodisiac.

As Spencer whispered about how he had imagined watching you bounce on his cock in the middle of the poker game, your orgasm crashed over you. You couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, the muscles spasming with pleasure.

It was wet and messy, your juices coating his cock with each withdrawal, only to be pushed back in with a slick sound on his next thrust. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal, and the scent of sex grew stronger.

You felt your body tightening around him, your pussy pulsing with each stroke. Your orgasm was still fresh, but the relentless pace Spencer had set had you spiraling towards another peak. His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, his whispers of filthy confessions only fuelling the fire within you.

As Spencer spoke of his fantasies, his hand never ceased its torment of your clit. The pleasure grew unbearable, your body a live wire. Then, as if on cue, another orgasm washes over you, making your legs shake uncontrollably. You cry out, your voice a high-pitched whine.

His thrusts grew erratic, his own need for release becoming apparent. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, the walls tightening and releasing in time with your racing heartbeat. It was this feeling, the tightness and the warmth of you, that pushed Spencer over the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as he could go. You felt his cock twitching, and then the warm flood of his cum filled your pussy. He groaned your name, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, his orgasm intense and uncontrollable. The sensation was intoxicating.

Panting, you both collapsed onto the bed, your bodies entangled in a mess of limbs. You clung to him, your chest rising and falling in time with his, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. Spencer's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as if afraid to let go. You felt his heart racing beneath your cheek. You were both thoroughly exhausted, the passionate frenzy leaving you drained yet content.

After a moment, you lifted your head and met his gaze. His eyes searched yours, seeking reassurance, a silent question hanging in the air. You offered a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. The tension dissipated, replaced by a gentle warmth.

As your breathing evened out, you leaned in to capture his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. The taste of yourself still lingered on his lips. Spencer's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands roamed his body, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders, the feel of his skin smooth and warm beneath your fingertips. He mirrored your movements, his touch gentle and exploratory, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

Spencer's lips trailed down your neck, peppering kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You nuzzled closer to him, your breathing slowing as the weight of sleep began to claim you. "With how loud we were, we're definitely sneaking out before the others wake up, right?" you whispered against his skin.

He chuckled, the vibration running through you. "Right," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. You could feel his smile against your shoulder. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, the gentle pressure lulling you closer to slumber.

[prael]

Phonecalls

Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia

IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut

words: 3,756 Kinktember Masterlist Happy Gaeul day!

Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’

A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her personality. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.

She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.

There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.

Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.

"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.

"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.

"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."

"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."

Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"

"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.

"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.

"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"

"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"

Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 

She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.

That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.

"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."

She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."

"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."

"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."

"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."

"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"

"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.

"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.

"You know where I get my fun."

"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.

The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.

"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.

"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."

You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.

"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.

"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."

"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.

"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.

"And what did he pick?"

"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.

"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."

"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.

"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."

"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.

"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."

"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.

"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.

There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."

"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.

"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."

"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.

"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."

You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."

"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."

"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.

"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."

"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"

"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."

"Let's hear it," you urged.

"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.

"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"

Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."

"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.

"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.

"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."

"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.

"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."

"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.

"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.

"I hope not."

"You wanna know what's funny?"

"Tell me," you plead to her.

"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."

You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.

"Not funny?" she asks.

"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."

"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.

"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."

"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"

"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"

"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.

"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"

"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.

"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."

"Then?" you prod her on.

"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."

"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.

"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.

You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.

"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."

You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"

"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.

"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.

Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.

"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...

"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.

It's an amazing fucking image.

"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."

You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.

"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."

"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."

"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."

You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."

"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.

You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.

"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."

"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.

"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.

"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.

[luna-azzurra]

Date Gone Wrong Prompts

The restaurant forgot their reservation, leaving them stuck outside in the pouring rain, but neither wants to admit they’re frustrated.

He’s running late, and she’s stuck awkwardly waiting at the restaurant alone. Just when she's about to leave, he shows up, soaked from the sudden downpour.

Their car breaks down on the way to the fancy restaurant, and they end up sitting by the side of the road, trying to laugh through the bad luck.

He tries to impress her by choosing a trendy restaurant, only for both of them to discover they can’t stand the food. They end up ordering pizza at her place instead.

She trips and spills her drink all over him during the dinner, her face turning beet red, but he just starts laughing, telling her it's the most memorable date he's ever had.

His ex works at the restaurant they’re dining at, and things get awkward fast when she keeps dropping by the table, not-so-subtly trying to make conversation.

She excitedly drags him to a karaoke bar for their date, but halfway through her song, she notices he’s cringing hard, too embarrassed to participate.

They end up in the wrong theater and sit through the entirety of a horror film when they were expecting a rom-com.

He gets lost trying to drive her home after the date and stubbornly refuses to admit it, resulting in a very awkward silence in the car as she navigates.

She gets sick halfway through the date but tries to play it off, until she’s forced to admit it when she nearly faints at the table.

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ RIIZE when you sleep on the couch after an argument

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre angst, fluff pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

You and Shotaro usually didn’t argue much, but sometimes you had small fights that really bothered you, especially since, even when Shotaro apologized, he wouldn’t admit that it was his fault. That night, you just didn’t feel like continuing the argument, so you grabbed your things and went to sleep on the couch in the living room.

It took you a while to fall asleep because it was uncomfortable, but you eventually managed. What you didn’t expect was to wake up the next morning to find Shotaro sitting on the floor, resting his head beside you while holding your hand. When he saw you didn’t come back to the bedroom the night before, he had come looking for you and found you asleep in the living room. Feeling guilty, he had fallen asleep on the floor beside you. The gesture touched your heart, though you felt bad seeing how he had slept.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

You were too stressed to handle Eunseok’s usual teasing. That’s why, before going to bed, you had a small argument because he said something that really bothered you, but he refused to apologize. Tired, you decided to end the argument by leaving the bedroom and going to sleep in the living room. Although it wasn’t very comfortable, you fell asleep pretty quickly.

The next morning, you were surprised to find breakfast ready on the table, with Eunseok sitting next to you, gently stroking your head to wake you up.

“Wake up, princess… I’m sorry about yesterday. I should’ve apologized. Did you sleep well? Do you want me to give you a massage?”

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

That night, you weren’t in the mood, but Sungchan didn’t notice and started tickling you and teasing you. You told him several times to stop, that you weren’t in the mood, but he didn’t listen, which made you angry enough to leave the room.

You decided to sleep on the couch because you were feeling too sensitive to handle Sungchan’s teasing that day. To your surprise, Sungchan came into the living room and stood there, watching you settle down on the couch, ready to sleep.

“No, I’m not going to let you sleep here,” he said as he walked over and easily scooped you up into his arms, carrying you back to the bedroom. “If you need to be alone, I’ll go to the living room, but I’m not letting you sleep out here,” he said as he gently placed you on the bed.

“Just… let’s sleep,” you said, opening your arms. Sungchan smiled and lay down, wrapping his arms around you.

ᯓ★ WONBIN

You were just about to go to bed when you and Wonbin started arguing over something trivial. The argument went on for a few minutes, but since you were so tired, you grabbed a pillow and headed to the living room to sleep on the couch. When Wonbin saw you leaving, he followed you like a lost puppy, asking why you were going.

“Where are you going, babe? I’m sorry… Don’t sleep here, please. You know I get scared sleeping alone,” he said while holding your hand, looking at you with those big puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“You’re way too scared, Wonbin…” you said as you headed back to the bedroom, with him hugging you and smiling softly.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

On your way back home after having dinner out, you and Seunghan had been arguing the entire time. The reason? Seunghan had watched the latest episode of a show you were watching together without you. It might’ve seemed like a small thing, but it really bothered you, so you argued all the way home.

When you got home, you went to your room, got comfortable, and headed to the couch, deciding to sleep there that night. Seunghan stayed in bed, thinking you’d come back, but after two hours passed and you still weren’t there, he got up and found you asleep on the couch. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh when he saw you.

“Ah… you’re going to catch a cold,” he whispered as he covered you with a blanket. The next morning, the first thing he did was apologize, and you watched the episode together.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

Sohee can be very proud, especially when it comes to winning arguments. Normally, you’d end up agreeing with him, and the two of you would laugh about it, but tonight, you didn’t want to give in. You wanted to see if he would actually admit you were right, just like you had done for him many times before. But no, even when you tried, he still didn’t give in.

It annoyed you a lot, so you decided to go sleep on the couch. Sohee was confused by your reaction and followed you to the living room to see where you were going. When he saw you lying down on the couch, he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“Y/n, is this because I didn’t admit you were right?” he murmured, crossing his arms. You turned your head away, ignoring him. Sohee sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Fine… you’re right. In fact, you’re always right, y/n. Can we go to bed now, or are we going to sleep uncomfortably together here?”

ᯓ★ ANTON

Even though you had argued over something small during dinner, by the time you were getting into bed, Anton still hadn’t apologized or admitted that what he said was wrong. You gave him one last chance to apologize, but when he stayed silent, you got up and went to sleep on the couch.

It wasn’t comfortable at all, but you started to drift off after a few minutes. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you felt someone touch your shoulder—Anton. When you saw it was him, you sighed and turned away, but he let out a small laugh, trying to get you to turn back around.

“Y/n, don’t sleep here… I need to hold you when I sleep. I’m sorry for what I said, okay?”

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori

[pricegouge]

cw: fat femme reader. shitty tinder dates. alcohol mentioned but not consumed. that's it. written on my lunch break and unedited so mind the mess

divider by @/cafekitsune | taglist @pricegouged

You're on your second drink when you swear off dating apps altogether. 

Dylan - fine, normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill Dylan - had exposed himself fairly early as too fine and normal, and therefore boring, which wouldn't have been too big a problem if he hadn't also been leaning further and further into the asshole category with each passing minute.

The snide little comment about your weight would be enough to send you packing early under any normal circumstances, except you'd been an idiot who'd let him pick you up so you needed a ride home, and why pay for an Uber when you can be mean right back?

It takes you a moment to arrive at that conclusion, though, stopping mid sip of your water to arch your eyebrows at this pathetic little thing before you with enough force to have him backpedaling. You watch him flounder for a moment, considering your options, not listening at all as he tries to clarify that he's 'into it, though - big girls, that is'.

You roll your eyes away from him, pretend to watch the highlight reel of last night's match from where it plays on the outdated CRT in the corner. It's not even a good place for a date, really, a self-serve popcorn machine in the corner offering pre-fingered snacks and a low liquor shelf behind the bar suggesting you'd best be thirsty for something with no more than three ingredients. You're not exactly the snooty type, but you suddenly realize you should maybe learn to know your worth better because you cannot ever sit across the table from someone who's read The Game ever again. One more time might kill you, funeral expenses legally billable to Neil Strauss and everything. 

Except your new standards will have to be enacted in the morning because you suddenly refuse to spend a fucking dime on this terrible outing.

Dylan still looks slightly panicked when you turn back to him with a shy little affected smile and a demure batting of your eyelashes. You watch in real time as his expression shifts from pure panic at a gamble ventured and lost, to surprised delight when he thinks it's paying off. You let him keep thinking that, draw quiet and reserved the more dinner draws on though jokes on you there, because that just means you have to hear him talk more and it's a struggle to pretend you don't find the damn coasters more interesting than him at this point. 

(They're cardboard and growing waterlogged from condensation, the local brewery's logo becoming easily peelable. It's become your mission to get a clean pull by the end of his long winded ramble, though he's so invested in hearing himself talk that you surpass your goal twice, peeling both the front and back off the coaster and sticking the limp paper to your glass, pressing out air bubbles with your fingers like you're carefully applying proper labeling. He doesn't stop talking until your glass is labeled front and back, real professional.)

When he asks if you're ready to go you perk up like a dog hearing its favorite word. You wanna go for a ride? Hm? You ready to go home, girl? Your nod is bobble-headed, eager. You let him misread it because you're an asshole and because you did say in your profile that you weren't looking for hookups so really it's his own fault if he blue balls himself. 

The ride back is short, easy. You don't know if it's better or worse that he doesn't bother flirting with you here or test your expectations with a cheeky little hand on your thigh. Instead, his grip remains carefully at ten and two and you're grateful he's not touching you, really, but you know what he expects from you in a matter of mere moments, hours, whatever, and it pisses you off that he doesn't even bother warming you up to the idea by grabbing a feel of those 'big thighs' he's 'into.' So you let yourself stew, fuel for the fire, and you fiddle with his heat controls just because you can. 

If he was so dead set on ending this night all hot and wet, you could help him with that at least.

Sweat beads at Dylan's temple when he pulls into the intricate webbing of drives which make up your apartment complex. It's a nice enough place, one you can only afford with the help of one too many roommates. The steep rent is worth it though for nights like tonight, when apprehension begins to pool in your belly as you try to steel yourself for the small confrontation you're about to initiate. Dylan may have been a little weasel but he wasn't exactly contentious so you're not expecting anything too major to come of this, but it's reassuring to see so many people still out and about enjoying the cool fall evening. It's still fairly early, mothers only just heading back from the park with their double wide buggies taking up half the drive. They shoot Dylan ugly looks as he passes, just a hair too fast for their unofficial neighborhood watch. At least you know they'll be on your side if he really starts to act up.

Dylan does not need reminding which specific branches lead to your building, rolling to a stop next to your own car which you try not to look at with any familiarity. You may have already made the mistake of giving him your address, but every morsel of information he might glean about you now feels like a theft, and even what you had for breakfast is suddenly a dark secret you'd like to keep from him for no real reason. 

It's hard looking at Dylan now too, the shyness you'd been playing up before all of a sudden a very real obstacle as your eyes wander your building's facade, as if even you aren't certain which bay window is yours. Your lights are all off, you note with some annoyance, your roommates not home despite the fact they said they would be. 

'Up all night waiting for you,' Carren had winked, her big cheeky smile something you've never had cause to mistrust before. You gotta work on your naivete. 

Your eyes keep moving, resolved not to give away even your apartment number by being too obvious. They catch on the patio next door, however, when you spot your neighbor Kyle sitting on his Adirondack chair, smoking a cigarette as he watches this new car pointedly, doing nothing to hide his curiosity. 

If you had been smart you would've told Dylan to pick you up a few buildings down so he wouldn't even have the proper section, but the relief you feel at seeing your sweet, hot, extremely fit neighbor outside playing guard dog more than makes up for your mistake. So much so that your fingers don't falter when they find the handle, emergency release ready to be disengaged. You turn back to Dylan with a too-sweet smile and thank him for dinner again, already leaning out the door when he stutters something about having a good time.

"Yeah, me too," you call over your shoulder, beelining it for Kyle's patio because you've had enough drinks in that vacant chair across from him to know you're always welcome, especially in a situation like this. Sure enough, Kyle perks up when he sees it's you climbing out of the strange car, and then furrows his brow over your shoulder when you hear Dylan climbing out after you. Some snivelly little creature you've been trying to kill since you turned eighteen holds the reins when you turn back to him despite your better instincts, your need to avoid a scene outweighing everything else in that moment.

Your date's facade is visibly crumbling now, his frustration obvious in the set of his jaw and the sweat at his temples. You wonder if perhaps the thermostat had been a bit much and then immediately decide you don't care when he stammers something about maybe coming in for a glass of something nicer than what the restaurant had to offer. 

Presumptuous. "I don't," you blurt, only continuing when he blinks at you in confusion, "drink anything nice, that is." Across the lawn, you think you hear Kyle snort.

"Uh… coffee?" Dylan asks, just as stubborn as you.

"Gave up caffeine," you lie, trying not to think about the lovely mocha creation Kyle will likely offer you momentarily when you tell him you've got a splitting headache.

To his credit, Dylan doesn't quite pout. "Right. Well. Do this again sometime?"

And you're already on a roll with the lies so you just carry right on with them, chirping out a high, "Sure!" before trying to turn on your heel.

But you're out of niceties when a firm grip on your shoulder keeps you in place, Dylan's scraggly mustache looming into your space as you watch his lips pucker in horror. 

"Oh I'm good, thanks!" you squeak, yanking yourself out of his grip. A laugh bubbles out of you afterward, uncomfortable but still amused by your own reaction. Your satisfaction only grows when Dylan begins to look genuinely pissy. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid but you're past the point of caring.

"Is that it, then?" Dylan huffs, taking a daring step forward. 

You slide back, lock step. "'Fraid so."

"Even after I bought you dinner?"

"And made me feel bad about eating it?" You scoff. "Yeah."

"I drove all the way out from -."

"What's all this?"

You're not sure who jumps more at Kyle's sudden appearance. He hovers by your shoulder, a silent type of fury pulling at his pretty face. You forget sometimes he's military, his general geniality always setting you at ease. It makes this new version of him all the more frightening, a lethal force sitting pretty at your side. 

This is what makes the rent worth it, honestly.

"Kyle, this is Dylan. My date for the night."

Kyle hums, clearly unconcerned with the specifics. "Well, night's over."

You smirk up at where the sun still lingers over the horizon, pale behind its cloudy cover but present all the same. "Indeed."

"Piss off, mate," Dylan tries, his voice sterner than you'd originally given him credit for. 

You raise your brow at him but Kyle doesn't even bother. He turns to you and smiles, eyes crinkling around the corners, much too tight to be natural. "Luvie, will you go get us some drinks? Sliding door's unlocked."

Part of you rankles at the dismissal, but a bigger part of you does indeed want to be done with this horrible man so you nod, wave a sarcastic two finger salute at Dylan and finally make your way back across the lawn, slipping into Kyle's warm and cozy apartment with a sigh of relief. 

For all the friendly patio drinks you've had with him since moving in, you've never actually stepped foot in Kyle's place. You take a moment to admire it, noting the cleanliness and a tidiness which undeniably spoke of a military career. Still, small concessions to his personality dotted the walls and surfaces. A fresh laundry scented candle, a stack of blu-rays, framed pictures of people you've never met all grinning happily. You spot Kyle's same smile reflected back at you from all these different faces, his entire family evidently blessed with that thousand watt grin and you wonder how one camera could sustain all those lumens being beamed at it.

The layout matches yours, simply reflected. You find the kitchen easily, again noting the cleanliness with a nod of approval. Someday he'd retire and settle down, make someone extremely happy. You could only hope you would be long gone by then because the jealousy might truly drive you to desperate measures. Like taking Tinder back up again, for example. The notion draws you to the kitchen window, quest for beverages all but forgotten when you see Kyle leaning over Dylan's shoulder as the latter man flips through his phone. You frown in confusion, drawing closer to the window as Kyle reaches out and starts poking around your date's phone on his own. It's cracked open, crisp fall breeze whistling through. It drowns out the noise of the conversation but you try anyway, ears straining for any word whispered between the two. A moment passes, another. Dylan becomes increasingly agitated while Kyle stays the picture of controlled severity. You don't hear either of them at all until Kyle's eyes dart to the apartment, finding yours instantly. You gulp, feeling as if you've been caught despite not actually doing anything wrong anyway, and suddenly Kyle's veneer breaks like a thunder cloud. He claps Dylan on the shoulder heavily, turning his beaming smile on the smaller man and calling him a good lad.

Dylan mutters something indiscernible and turns back towards his car, resolutely ignoring as Kyle calls out overly friendly farewells. The engine rips to life, a low growl which suggests it's in dire need of an oil change. Still, it bravely fires up and carries Dylan away, Kyle turning back to you with a roll of his eyes which seemed to say 'this fuckin' guy.'

You grin at him, rolling your eyes right back before ducking your head, suddenly bashful under your neighbor's full attention. Drinks forgotten, you meet him at the door and thank him profusely, ignoring the way he tries to wave it off as if it was nothing,

"No, seriously, Kyle, that was very much appreciated. Probably not necessary but appreciated anyway. Please let me know if there's ever a way I can make it up to you."

And now Kyle's smirk is salacious. Great. "Well, you can join me for that drink I requested to start," he laughs, waving you back into his apartment. "Then you can tell me what you were doing on a date with a guy like that."

"Hm," you hum, already given in but thinking of how you can get what you want out of him first. Your scheming has already worked out so well for you tonight, after all. "Sure, but first you gotta tell me what you were doing on his phone."

He doesn't even miss a beat. "No can do. Top secret stuff."

"Oh," you scoff, allowing yourself to be corralled toward the couch. It's surprisingly soft, instantly cocooning you the moment you slump into it. A woven blanket hangs over the back of it which you wonder if Kyle would mind you using, if he'd get a kick out of returning from the kitchen to find you curled up like you owned the place. Probably, he wouldn't because he's much too nice to you always. "Potential terrorist threat was he?"

"He did fit the profile," Kyle calls back from the kitchen. 

You laugh, decide if he's allowed to call your date a terrorist then you're definitely allowed to use his blanket. His fault for leaving the window open on such a cold day. As expected, Kyle seems completely unbothered when he returns moments later, your favorite mocha monstrosity in one hand and his standard plain, sweetened coffee in the other. He holds your drink out of your reach teasingly however until you admit you'd met Dylan on a dating app and he tuts, relenting your drink to you almost as an apology for what you've had to go through.

"Why are you even on those things?" he asks, slurping at his coffee noisily. It's a funny habit of his, one he somehow manages to make endearing. 

Though, looking like that, you imagine he could probably make booger picking endearing.

"Well, Kyle, some of us aren't quite as naturally charming as you."

He smirks, doesn't bother to deny it. Cocky asshole. "Don't sell yourself short, I'm sure plenty of men would love to have their blankets stolen by you." He winks, hand reaching out to pluck at the weave which drapes over your shoulder. His hand lingers there, warm even through the layers, and your laugh dies in your throat, comes out as a strangled scoff.

"Well. Keep it a little warmer in here and your guests wouldn't have to make themselves at home uninvited."

Kyle's smile is softer this time, dangerously handsome. "You're always invited, pet."

And try as you might to be witty, you can't quite come up with a response to that. Kyle doesn't seem to need one, though, slurping at his coffee as he settles in, far too close. The hand which had been at your shoulder settles lower, palm warm where he kneads at your thick thigh experimentally. You'd laugh at the irony if your brain wasn't too busy turning somersaults trying to make sense of what's happening. Surely your neighbor Kyle - sexy, sharp, nice Kyle - isn't coming onto you.

Right?

But then he's leaning forward and placing his mug on the table, his thick fingers guiding your own mug to your mouth for a quick, stunned sip before pulling it away again and placing it next to his own. He's facing you now, full on, his big dark eyes gleaming with mischief. 

"I was making him delete all your contact info. Earlier. And then I made him deactivate his account," Kyle laughs, an infectious thing which gets you giggling too.

"Not willing to subject other girls to him?"

"I don't take chances," Kyle confirms, voice solemn as a vow. "But what about you, pet? What do I gotta do to convince you to delete yours?"

Given you'd already planned on deleting it, you should really just tell him you've already learned your lesson and there's no need to do anything at all. But your scheming has only yielded a fifty percent success rate tonight and you'd rather go for broke than break even so you just smile, wondering if Kyle saw your no-hookups stipulation on your profile before making Dylan unmatch earlier. 

You hope not.

"I don't know, it might take a lot of convincing."

[aurulia]

you stood just outside the restaurant, already feeling the familiar tension building in your chest. matt’s hand was warm against your lower back as he gently guided you toward the entrance. tonight was a big deal. not just any dinner, but the first time you were meeting his brothers, Chris and Nick. you had heard so much about them, seen countless videos, but being face to face with them felt like a whole new level.

you tugged at the sleeves of your oversized sweater, fidgeting with the fabric as nerves bubbled up. the sweater, one of matt’s favourites, hung loosely on you, the sleeves long enough that your hands were barely visible, swallowed by the fabric. you played with the edges, your fingers curling inside the soft material, a nervous habit Matt had noticed long ago.

matt glanced down at you, instantly picking up on the way your fingers twisted the sleeves, the way you kept your head down a little more than usual. he stopped just before you both reached the door, turning to face you fully.

“hey,” he said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “you don’t have to be nervous. It’s just my brothers. I promise they’re gonna love you.”

you nodded, but the slight tremble in your fingers gave you away. “I know. I just… it’s a lot, meeting them for the first time. I don’t want to mess it up.”

matt’s lips quirked into a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “sweetheart, you couldn’t mess it up if you tried,” he said. “and you look adorable in my sweater, by the way.”

you felt a soft warmth rise to your cheeks as you ducked your head, smiling to yourself. the sleeves of his sweater hung over your hands, hiding them completely. “I’m not even sure they’ll be able to see me under all this fabric,” you joked.

matt chuckled, tugging you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “they’ll see you, and they’ll love you. and if it gets too much, just squeeze my hand. I’ll know.”

you nodded again, feeling a little lighter with him by your side. he pushed open the door, leading you into the restaurant.

when you reached the table, chris and nick were already seated, chatting with each other. chris spotted you two first. “finally! we were starting to think you guys bailed.”

matt just laughed, pulling out a chair for you before sitting down next to you. his hand slid over yours under the table, his fingers wrapping gently around your still fidgeting ones. you peeked at his brothers from behind the safety of your sweater sleeve, feeling a bit awkward.

nick smiled at you, “it’s so nice to finally meet you,”

you smiled sweetly, your fingers slightly letting go of the sleeve of your sweater. “nice to meet you, too.”

chris, being a bit more direct, leaned forward with a grin. “matt never shuts up about you, by the way.”

you giggled, turning your head to matt “is that so?” matt nudged Chris with a glare before turning to you. “alright fine, maybe i do talk about you alot, but can you blame me?”

you bit your lip, smiling “ill take that as a compliment.”

matts thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a slow, soothing motion. he leaned in, his voice low so only you could hear. “you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

you gave him a small smile, leaning into the warmth of his arm next to you. matt kept a comforting presence beside you the entire time, making sure you were okay with just a squeeze of your hand every now and then.

when the food arrived, matt, true to his word, ordered for you, noticing the way you hesitated when the waiter came around. “she’ll have the same as me,” he said casually, not drawing any attention to it.

by the end of the night, as you were getting ready to leave, Chris leaned over with a grin. “You survived your first sturniolo dinner. not bad.”

nick nodded. “yeah, you’re stuck with us now.”

you smiled, feeling more at ease than you had when you first walked in. matt, noticing how much more relaxed you were, pulled you into a quick hug, kissing the top of your head. “told you they’d love you,” he murmured against your hair.

“mhm,” you hummed softly, resting your head on his chest, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sweater.

[thinkinginpen]

Stop Me Now Part 2

a/n: I had to write part two. I loved the first one so much pairing: dbf!logan x reader w/c: 4.1k warnings: age gap, arguing, angst, being kicked out summary: Your dad found out and it didn't end well. But you had a boyfriend now... you couldn't go back to Logan...

It had been three months. Three months since you last saw Logan. Three months since you walked out the door, leaving behind a trail of heartache and memories.

The absence of the one you loved left an emptiness in your heart like a cold, lonely vacuum. Three months passed like a slow, endless dream, and the memories you had with Logan still lingered like sweet, bittersweet ghosts in your mind.

That feeling of love was evident in every detail. The way he protected you, showing his deep care and concern, and the way he was so passionate and engaged in arguments, even when you disagreed. It was more than just lust or casual interest, it was a deeper connection born from a genuine love.

Despite what Logan had said, the love you shared still felt real and true. Perhaps your father wouldn't have approved, and maybe it seemed wrong on the surface. But none of that changed the authenticity of the love and connection you had with Logan.

At the sound of your dad's knock, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted, and your heart leaped in your chest. "Logan's here," your dad said softly through the door.

You froze for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. The thought of seeing him again after these three months filled you with...

Anger.

You felt a wave of anger and frustration wash over you as you heard your dad's casual announcement. Why was Logan here now, after all these months of silence? Did he think he could just show up unannounced, as if nothing had happened between you?

As you took a deep breath to calm yourself, your mind was racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to see him, to hear his voice and feel his presence once again. But another part of you was still hurt and angry about the way things had ended.

"What does he want?" you asked your dad, trying to keep your tone even.

Your dad hesitated for a moment, sensing your confusion and frustration. "He is over for dinner honey," he responded. "What else? He missed his best friend's, AKA my, soup."

Logan was here for dinner? He was going to be sitting right across from you, just like old times? Of course, your dad never knew what happened between Logan and you so this didn't seem weird to him. To him nothing had changed. Logan was still supposedly "Uncle Wolvie" as far as he knew.

You felt a pang of guilt as you thought about your dad's ignorance. He had no idea how complex your relationship with Logan had been. And now, he was hosting him for a cozy dinner, completely oblivious to the truth.

"I don't know if I can do this," you muttered under your breath. Spending an evening with Logan, pretending everything was normal, was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

As you made your way into the dining room, you saw Logan sitting there, smiling at you, but you could see the thoughts running through his mind. He was thinking the same thing you were… This was going to be a long dinner.

Your dad, oblivious to the tension in the air, was happily setting the table and chatting away. "Ah, there she is," he exclaimed, as you entered the room. "Sit down honey, dinner's almost ready."

You forced a smile in response to your dad's cheerful greeting, trying to act like everything was fine. But as you took your seat across from Logan, you could feel the weight of the unspoken tension heavy in the room.

Logan's eyes met yours for a moment before he quickly looked away. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your dad's cheerful chattering and the clinking of plates and silverware.

Your dad served the meal, and everyone dug in, but the conversation felt forced and stilted. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Logan, and he seemed equally uncomfortable, occasionally sneaking glances at you but mostly focusing on his plate.

As the meal progressed, your dad tried his best to keep the conversation light and cheerful, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness between you and Logan. The atmosphere at the table remained tense and strained, the elephant in the room impossible to ignore.

Logan looked up from his plate and tried to muster a smile. "Not much," he replied, avoiding your gaze. "Just keeping busy, you know."

Your dad nodded, taking another bite of his dinner. "You know, I was just thinking the other day," he continued, oblivious to the tension in the room. "It's been a while since you've come over for dinner."

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I've been busy," he said. "But it's good to be here now."

"How about you," Logan nodded to you. "What's new, kid?"

"Not much," you replied, avoiding his gaze. The way he said "kid" felt like a dagger in your heart. It stung to hear him call you that, as if things were still the same between you.

"No exciting adventures?" Logan pressed on, trying to make conversation. But you could hear the strain in his voice, the effort it took him to keep his tone light and casual.

"Actually, I have been dating this one guy lately," you lied, forcing a casual tone. "He's been keeping things pretty interesting."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you saw Logan's expression change. A flicker of surprise and hurt passed over his face, and you took a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that you had gotten under his skin.

He tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the tension building in his shoulders. "Oh yeah?" he said, feigning indifference. "What's his name?"

You couldn't help but relish the chance to twist the knife further. "His name is Nate," you said, unable to keep the hint of mockery out of your voice. "He's very generous and sweet."

Logan's jaw clenched as he processed your words. The mention of another man, especially one who was supposedly generous and sweet, seemed to bother him. But he tried to hide his emotions, keeping his tone neutral.

"I see," he said, his voice betraying a hint of jealousy. "Sounds like quite the catch."

You couldn't help but smile at his obvious discomfort. Seeing him struggle with his emotions was a small victory, even if it was all based on a lie.

Your dad cleared the dishes and excused himself to do the dishes in the kitchen, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence between you was deafening as you both sat there, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"I should have seen it fuckin coming."

Logan's sudden remark cut through the silence, his frustration and irritation seeping through his words. He had finally broken the stalemate, and his tone was a mix of anger and resignation.

"Please tell me some of it was fuckin real."

Logan's voice was rough with emotion, desperation laced with hurt. Your heart ached at the pain in his words, but you refused to show weakness. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, searching for answers.

"You told me to leave!" You responded angrily.

"You knew I wanted you," he shot back, his voice filled with raw emotion. "You knew how I felt about you. But you still walked out that damned door, and you never looked back."

"I didn't want to," he hissed. "You think I wanted to push you away? I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" You could feel your anger rising, the pain of his words cutting through you. "Don't bullshit me! You were just scared."

"Damn right I was scared," he admitted, his voice suddenly softer. "Every day we were together was a knife in my gut. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't stay away from you. And if your dad finally found out… I knew I had to end it."

Your heart ached at his confession, but your anger and hurt still raged inside you. "And you expect me to believe that you actually cared? That it wasn't just some fling to you?"

"You know it wasn't," he replied, his voice low and fierce. "How can you even say that? I loved you, damn it. I still love you."

Your dad froze as he walked back into the dining room, realizing that he had walked in on a very charged conversation. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension, and your dad's face was a mixture of shock and concern.

"Logan…" He said slowly, "Logan that is my daughter…"

Logan went pale, the weight of your dad's words hitting him like a ton of bricks. The guilt and embarrassment on his face were obvious, and he fidgeted in his seat, unable to look your dad in the eye.

"How long has this been going on?" your dad asked, his voice betraying a mix of anger and disappointment.

Logan interrupted you, his voice loud and furious. "It's not fucking over!"

Your dad's gaze flicked back and forth between you and Logan, his expression a mix of surprise and anger. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you knew that everything was about to blow up.

"You told me to leave! I fucking left!"

"Not out of choice!" Logan's voice was rising in volume, his frustration and anger reaching a boiling point.

"You walked out without a fight!" he yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. "You gave up on us… on me!"

Your dad held up his hand, trying to calm things down. "Whoa, whoa, let's all take a deep breath-"

"Don't you tell me to take a damn breath!" Logan snapped, his eyes still fixated on you. "You have no idea what you put me through!"

Your dad stepped closer, his voice firm. "Logan, you need to calm down. This is still my house, and I won't have you yelling at my daughter, or at me. Now take a breath and talk to me like a grown-ass man."

"What are you gonna do about it?" Logan shot back, his voice hard and challenging. "Kick my ass? Go ahead and try it."

Your dad clenched his fists, clearly struggling to control his own temper. He was seething with anger, his eyes fixed on Logan. "Logan, you better shut that damn mouth-"

But Logan was beyond rationality. "Or what?" he taunted, his voice full of bravado. "You'll do what? You gonna hit me? Go ahead. I dare you."

"Don't talk to my dad like that Logan! You caused this!"

"I caused this?" Logan exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and hurt. "You think this is all my fault? You're not innocent in this either!"

"I never said I was," you snapped. "But I'm not the one who started this whole mess in the first place."

"You wanted it just as much as I did!" Logan countered heatedly. "Don't sit there and act like you were some innocent victim! I didn't rape you!"

Your dad flinched at Logan's words, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. "Watch your language," he warned, his voice firm.

But Logan was too far gone to listen. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said mockingly. "Should I censor myself for your precious ears? You have no idea what we've been through!"

"Logan stop!"

He ignored you, his anger and hurt fueling his words. "No, I won't stop!" he shouted. "You don't get to act like I'm the bad guy here! You were just as responsible as I was, if not more! I didn't force you into anything! I remember everything! Every sound you made! Every laugh! Every smile!"

Your heart ached as he revealed the depth of his feelings, but you tried to push past the pain. "That doesn't change the fact that you ended it!" you retorted, your voice breaking.

"I had to!" he exclaimed, his voice ragged. "Don't you think I wanted you? I'm hundreds of years older than you! Your dad would have killed me if he found out!"

"I know now Logan. Get out."

Your dad's voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument. Logan's eyes flicked between the two of you, his anger and frustration warring with his conflicted feelings. He knew he was outnumbered and out of options. With a clenched jaw, he pushed back from the table and stood up.

For a moment, the room was eerily silent. All you could hear was the sound of your dad's heavy breathing. You could feel his disappointment and anger practically radiating off of him.

Finally, your dad spoke, his voice low and controlled. "We need to talk."

Your heart sank at his words. You knew this conversation was not going to be easy. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Your dad led you to the couch and sat down heavily. He took a deep breath before speaking. "What the hell are the two of you thinking?" he started, his voice carefully measured.

"I can't even begin to wrap my head around this," he continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "How long has this been going on?"

You couldn't meet his gaze as you answered. "A few months," you mumbled, feeling shame burn in your gut. "But we stopped."

Your dad's eyes widened in shock, his anger and disappointment clear. "A few months?" he repeated, his voice tight. "And you didn't think to tell me? How could you keep something like this a secret?"

You fidgeted under his scrutiny, feeling like a child being scolded. "I… I don't know," you mumbled, your voice small. "I was scared. I knew you would be mad."

"Damn right I'm mad!" your dad exclaimed, his voice rising. "I have every right to be. You've been lying to me, hiding something huge, and with a man old enough to be your father!"

"It's not just that," he continued, his anger still palpable. "Logan. Of all people, Logan. He's like a brother to me, and he was my closest friend… And you two…. How could you?"

You flinched under the weight of his disappointment. You knew you had messed up, and there was no way to make it right. "We… We can't help who we fall in love with," you mumbled, the words feeling hollow.

Your dad let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Love? This isn't love," he spat, his voice filled with anger and disbelief. "This is a mess. A huge, messy, wrong-on-so-many-levels mess. And you two dragged me right into it. It's lust."

Your eyes stung with tears as his words sunk in. "It's not just that," you protested, your voice shaky. "We care about each other-"

"Care about each other?" Your dad's voice was dripping with disbelief. "You don't know the meaning of care. Not at your age. This is just lust, plain and simple. Logan knows better. He should have had the sense to pull away before it went too far."

Your heart ached at his words. You knew he was right that Logan should have known better, but you couldn't help how you felt. "I can't just stop feeling the way I do," you muttered, your voice cracking. "I love him."

"You don't even know what love is," your dad retorted, his voice hard. "You're just caught up in the excitement of sneaking around, of doing something forbidden. It's all a game to you, a thrill. How did it start?"

You winced at his words, knowing deep down that he was partially right. You didn't know what love was. Not really. "It just… happened," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "When he was over… and you left for work… and you told him to take care of me… We…"

"You what?" your dad pressed fiercely, his voice filled with disbelief. "When I left you alone with Logan?"

"You what?" your dad pressed fiercely, his voice filled with disbelief. "When I left you alone with Logan?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "We… we ended up on the couch," you admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "And one thing led to another… and we just… kept meeting up… when we could."

Your dad let out a weary sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "So you've been sneaking around right under my nose," he said, his voice weary now. "While I trusted you. While I trusted him."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling the shame and guilt well up inside you. "I know I messed up, but I can't help how I feel. I love him. I have for a long time-"

Your dad's eyes narrowed at your words. "You have a boyfriend dammit!"

"I know!" you exclaimed, tears welling up in your eyes. "But it doesn't change how I feel about Logan. It doesn't change the fact that I love him!"

"You don't even know what love is," your dad repeated, his voice firm. "You're just a kid. You're hormonal. You're impressionable. You're not thinking straight."

"I am!" you protested, tears streaming down your face now. "I do know what love is. I know what I feel for Logan. You can't tell me that my feelings aren't real just because I'm young-"

"I can and I will," your dad shot back. "You don't know the first thing about love. You're just infatuated. It's a crush. It will pass. And when it does, you'll realize how foolish this all was. But in the meantime get out!"

Your heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. "What?" you whimpered, your voice trembling. "You're kicking me out?"

"Damn right I am!" your dad retorted, his voice hard. "You broke my trust. You went behind my back. You thought you could deceive me and sneak around without any consequences. Well, now you're going to face the music. Pack a bag."

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you realized he was serious. You stumbled to your feet and rushed to your room, grabbing a bag and throwing clothes into it, your mind racing. This couldn't be happening.

Your mind was a whirlwind of confused and conflicting emotions as you packed. Anguish, guilt, hurt, anger, and fear all vied for dominance. You could hear your dad’s voice drifting in from the living room, a mixture of anger and disappointment. As you shoved the last of your belongings into your bag, you tried to collect yourself, wiping your tears on your sleeve.

With a final glance around your room, you took a deep breath and walked back into the living room, your heart in your throat. Your dad looked up as you entered. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was set and his eyes were like steel.

"Are you packed?" he asked gruffly, his voice betraying none of the emotion that must have been swirling within him too.

You nodded, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears again. Your dad’s eyes flicked over your bag, then back to your face. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, your dad let out a heavy sigh. "Well, get going then," he said, his voice as neutral as he could manage.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, causing fresh tears to spill down your cheeks. "But… But where am I supposed to go?" you managed to croak out, your voice betraying your fear and confusion.

Your dad's expression softened just a fraction. "That's not my problem," he said, his voice still tense. "You made your bed, now you have to lie in it. I can't have you under my roof when you've been deceiving me like this."

It felt like being stabbed in the heart. You had hoped that, despite his anger and disappointment, he would still have some compassion for you. But his words left no room for doubt. You were being pushed out. "You don’t care what happens to me?" you whispered, your voice small and hurt.

Your dad's face tightened, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Don't put words in my mouth," he snapped. "Of course I care about what happens to you. I’m your dad. But I can't condone what you've done. You've betrayed my trust and disobeyed my rules. You need to learn that actions have consequences."

You nodded, understanding the message. Your tears continued to fall silently as the full weight of your actions crashed down on you. You had crossed a line, and now you were being sent away because of it.

"Go stay with Logan," your dad said, his voice flat. "You like him so much, maybe he can take care of you for a while. See how long your little fantasy world lasts out in the real world."

Shock and disbelief flashed through you at his words. "What?" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "You're sending me to him? After everything that's happened? You can't be serious!"

"No, I'm not joking," your dad said sternly. "You want Logan so badly? Go to him. Let him deal with you for a while. See how he likes having to be responsible for a spoiled, disobedient teenager who has no concept of the real world."

Your heart felt like it was being torn in half. You had never thought it would come to this. "I… I can't stay with him," you protested, your voice thick with tears. "I don't think he even wants me there! And I have a boyfriend!"

Your dad's eyes darkened at the mention of your boyfriend. "You should have thought about that before you started sneaking around behind my back," he snapped. "And Logan can deal with it. He's a big boy. Maybe it's time for him to put his money where his mouth is."

You felt numb as the truth of his words hit you. There was no point trying to argue. You knew your dad had made up his mind. "Fine," you mumbled, your voice hollow. "I'll go."

With that you walked out. It was late and cold. You pulled out your phone and did something you thought you never would again.

"Can you come get me?"

There was a long pause as you waited anxiously, the cold night air stinging your skin. You shivered and hugged your bag closer to your chest, feeling completely alone. Then, finally, your phone buzzed with a reply.

Lo: "Where are you?"

The short message was all that was sent, but it was enough.

You sent him your location and then waited, teeth chattering as the cold seeped into your bones. It felt like an eternity until a familiar car pulled up next to you, the interior warm and inviting.

You opened the door and quickly slid into the passenger seat, the heat of the car like a balm to your freezing body. You avoided looking at the man at the wheel, but you could feel the tension thick in the air.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the car pulled away from the curb. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest aching with a strange mixture of guilt, shame, and a small flicker of… something else.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the car pulled into a quiet, residential street, coming to a stop in front of a small house. The engine fell silent, but neither of you made a move to get out. You glanced at him, the light of the street lamp casting a dim glow over his features.

He was staring straight ahead, his hands clenching the steering wheel. His jaw was set and his expression solemn. The line of his shoulders was tense, his body taut like a coil ready to spring. It was clear that he had a lot he wanted to say, but was holding himself back.

The silence between you was thick and charged. He finally turned his gaze from the front windshield to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. "We need to talk," he said, his voice soft but firm.

A mixture of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. "Okay," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the rapid pounding of your heart.

He pushed open the driver's side door, gesturing for you to follow. You got out of the car, the cold air hitting you like a slap in the face. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself as you followed him up the path to his front door.

He unlocked the door, holding it open for you. You stepped into the warm, cozy interior, feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. The house was small, but comfortable, and you could see glimpses of his life in every corner. Photos on the walls, books on the shelves, a jacket slung over the back of a chair.

He closed the door behind you and then leaned against it, his body blocking the only exit. He didn't say anything, just watched you, his eyes roaming over your face and body as if trying to figure you out.

"Sit."

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

Part 1 Part 2

🏷️: @fablehaven-rulez

[poisonlove]

Break up | j.o

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X reader

It was a cold and foggy day in Romania, the gray sky seemingly merging perfectly with the gloomy and surreal atmosphere surrounding the set of Wednesday, Tim Burton's new project. I was walking down the corridor leading to the lounge, nervously clutching my jacket around me. The damp and biting air seemed to penetrate to the bone, but the tension inside me was even more oppressive. It had been three months since I last saw Jenna. Between my commitment to a horror film set in Los Angeles and Jenna’s long days of filming, our lives had intertwined in a chaos of distance and frenzy. That’s why I had decided to surprise my girlfriend.

"Hey." I nervously smiled at Emma, while her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, noticing my agitation.

"Jenna’s in there," she said with a smirk, pointing me toward the direction that would lead me to my girlfriend.

I nodded in understanding and made my way to the door that led to the lounge. The room was large but relatively quiet: a coffee machine in one corner of the room, a table, chairs, and a sofa at the other end. A few staff members were bustling around with cameras and props, my eyes searching for the one I loved and admired so much.

There she was.

Jenna was sitting on the sofa, her usual headphones around her ears, allowing her to isolate herself from the world while flipping through what looked like a script. I approached her, my heart pounding, and positioned myself in front of her. Her brown eyes slowly scanned my figure, so slowly that I could feel my heartbeat increase by the second. When her eyes met mine, I sighed and gave a spontaneous smile.

"Hi," I said with a small smile on my lips.

Jenna took off her headphones and left them around her neck.

She blinked in surprise. "I wasn’t expecting this," she murmured timidly, making me frown in confusion.

She got up from the sofa and gave me a quick hug, but it felt so strange and forced. "Is everything okay?" I asked nervously, a strange feeling creeping into my gut.

Jenna took a step back and looked at me without blinking, a small smile on her lips. "Yes... I’m just tired," she replied, her gaze drifting off into space. "This project is draining me."

I nodded, trying to smile in a way that would ease the tension. "I understand, maybe we can spend some time together afterward... you know, watch a movie or something."

"I don’t know, I have a cello lesson," she said calmly, her tired eyes meeting mine. Huge dark circles underlined the sleepless nights she had been through.

"Dinner, maybe?" I asked hopefully.

Jenna nodded timidly, but there was no enthusiasm on her face, only acknowledgment. I placed my hands on her waist and leaned in to capture her lips with mine. The kiss was mechanical. Her lips, once soft and warm, were now cold and distant.

Something was wrong.

"Jenna, can we talk?" I asked in concern. Something was off, and I needed answers.

She sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning. "Break’s almost over, I have to get back to the set."

Frustration started to build.

"It won’t take long, I promise," I insisted. I felt my voice tremble, but I couldn’t let this slip away without an explanation.

I took Jenna’s hand and led her toward the exit of the lounge. The biting cold hit my face immediately, making me feel the chill down to my bones. Jenna wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shield herself from the icy wind as her eyes watched me with a mix of anticipation and frustration. She quickly glanced around, almost cautiously, making sure no one was nearby before turning her attention back to me.

"What’s going on, Jenna?" My voice was a whisper, my fear too evident. I couldn’t ignore this distance between us.

She looked at me for a long moment, her expression impassive as if she were trying to find the right words. Finally, she sighed loudly. "Nothing, I’m just tired from work."

"Jenna..." I started, immediately picking up on her lie.

"Really, it’s nothing," she said with a smile.

"It’s not true," I insisted, the anger of being deceived taking over. "I know you, Jenna. Please, tell me what’s going on," I pleaded with a small voice, fear growing in my chest.

A tense silence settled between us, and my nervousness grew with each passing second. Jenna lowered her gaze, then raised it again with a look full of unease, as if a secret torment was consuming her. "I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I want... We... we’ve been moving too fast," she finally admitted, her voice faltering with hesitation.

The realization hit me.

"What? Are you trying to say that..." I started, tears threatening to spill at any moment. No, it couldn’t be true. All the months spent together, the video calls, the kisses... Everything made sense.

Jenna looked at me with guilt.

"I..." she began, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled, and the awareness of what was about to happen hit me like a punch to the stomach.

"I’m exhausted, y/n," she admitted.

I quickly shook my head, unable to accept her words. "We can make it, Jenna. We can do it together," I suggested nervously, unwilling to give up so easily.

Jenna shook her head, making me feel an intense pain in my chest. "No, y/n. The distance, the work, all of this is hurting me," she confessed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It’s over between us," she murmured.

The world collapsed around me. There was nothing left to do; Jenna had already made her decision. I looked at her in pain, tears running down my cheeks as she gazed at me with sadness, the pain visible on her face.

"I’m sorry..." she added in a broken voice.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stifle a sob, and bowed my head, hiding my emotions. My heart was shattered, and a feeling of emptiness dominated my stomach. It was over. I turned my back and walked away from the set, the awareness that Jenna had left me dominating my thoughts.

Don’t turn back. Don’t turn back. Don’t go to her to try to change her mind. Don’t look into her eyes.

Don’t do anything.

Just move forward, even though the world had fallen apart.

[merakiui]

thinking about you and [insert twst character here] being enemies and disliking each other intensely. maybe you're arguing in the mirror chamber, going on and on about how "i can't wait to graduate because then i'll never have to put up with your idiotic self ever again!!!!" and maybe the both of you, in your childish scuffle, fall through the dark mirror.

you've no idea where you are when you emerge on the other side. where is this place? where have you ended up? you're in...someone's home?? just where did the mirror take you? you're still bickering quietly, blaming the other for this issue, but then you happen to venture deeper into the home after hearing voices. when you peer around the corner, you see the unthinkable.

your older selves are sitting there at the dinner table, talking cordially. not fighting. eating happily. not fighting. boasting wedding rings. NOT FIGHTING????? what is this twisted reality?!?!

shockingly, you and [insert twst character here] have been sent to the future, where your older selves are happily married and sharing a life together.

both of you (your college-aged selves) think you might be sick.

[fastboatsmojito]

It’s my birthday today! I’m turning 22 and I’m scared… can I get a Scott writing please 🥺 to make me feel better, I love your writing 💕

Omg happy birthday !!!!! of course <33

Red velvet - Scott Miller x reader <3

| a/n; Scott is not a birthday party kinda guy to me but he is good at planning things so he’ll just have to suck it up :p + I hope you have a lovely birthday dearest!!! 🫶🏼

| wc; 673

| cw; mostly fluff, slightly sweeter than usual Scott, a splash suggestive at the end but only if you want it to be 🙇

You woke up to Scott’s side of the bed empty, still foggy and confused as you walked into the kitchen for some water. You didn’t plan on doing much for your birthday, proposing a sweet day in with your boyfriend instead of some elaborate party, both of you scheduled the day off weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” You asked, groggy voice barely coming out as you stood, staring down the usually annoyingly clean man that is currently covered in a layer of flour. His head snapped up from his work to explain, mimicking a similar amount of surprise on his face that he found on your own.

“You’re not supposed to be up yet. It’s barely seven, go back to sleep.” He said plainly, dusting the flour off of his hands.

“You’re baking?” You unconvincingly tried to hold back a laugh as you said it, bringing when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I bake all the time.”

“You cook all the time,” You corrected, walking behind him to grab a glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with an apron on.” Your gaze was pointed at the white fabric covering his shirt as he moved closer to you, taking the cup from your hands and pouring some water for you.

“Consider it a birthday present.” He said, smug as he handed you the now cold glass before cupping your face in his flour-coated hands and placing a soft kiss on your head.

“Happy birthday, by the way. I have some real fun stuff planned later that I’m sure you’d love even more if you slept a little longer first.” He knew you’d want a nap later if you were up this early and that’d interrupt some of his plans, but more than that he wanted you out of the kitchen so he could continue preparing without your stolen glances.

——

After just a few more hours of sleep you woke back up, this time to Scott walking in the room with a plate of breakfast. He walked over as you sat up, handing you a mouth watering plate of pancakes.

“Oh my god this smells amazing, thank you.” You praised, smiling up at him.

You both ate in bed, Scotts usually not a big fan of food in bed in general but clearly he decided to make an exception for your special day.

——

For a while you just lounged around together, basking in the comfort of each other you typically wouldn’t have so long with on a weekday.

Around lunch he told you to get ready, handing you the first gift of many; a black box encompassing a gorgeous dress that you’d seen a few weeks prior when you were out together. You didn’t buy it then since you figured you didn’t have anywhere to wear it. He watched your reaction as you stood speechless.

“That’s the color you wanted, right? I kept the receipt if you-“ You stopped him before he could continue, shaking your head as you held it in front of you.

“It’s perfect.” You studied the soft fabric before setting it down to give him a hug, squeezing him tight as you breathed in the warm scent of his cologne.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

——-

After a lovely dinner he brought you back home, letting you wear his jacket the second you stepped outside. You held his hand as you walked in, gasping when you saw all of the decorations. All pretty balloons and flowers with a big cake from his earlier escapades sitting on the table to top it off.

“Scott! How’d you-“

“I had a little help.” He shrugged, smiling as he watched you look up at him with excitement.

“Go on.” He let go of your hand to guide you in, “You’ve got a lot of present unwrapping to do and if you want, when you’re all done with those, I’ll give you something else.” He whispered the last part, minty as always breath over your skin as he gave your jaw a kiss before gently pushing you to walk all the way in.

——

[frostdayz]

Dinner surprises

Loki x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Being away in midgard for a couple of weeks you come back to a Loki surprise.

warnings: None :)

AN: Might be the last loki x reader for a while. Let me know if you guys have any other people you want me to write about!!

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I stepped through the portal, the familiar golden shimmer fading as my feet touched the smooth floors of Loki’s palace chambers. It felt like I’d been gone forever, even though it had only been a few weeks. Midgard had its charm, but it was nothing compared to the comfort and elegance of Asgard—nothing compared to being with him.

The air was rich with the scent of something delicious. I furrowed my brows, surprised. That wasn’t usual. I made my way down the corridor, following the tantalizing aroma. The closer I got, the more my heart began to race.

Turning the corner, I stopped in my tracks.

There, in the center of the grand dining hall, was the most breathtaking sight I’d ever seen. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting flickering shadows against the walls. A long table, covered with the finest silver and goblets of sparkling wine, was adorned with an extravagant spread of dishes—each one looking more delicious than the last. The colors of roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned meats, and intricate desserts filled the table.

But it wasn’t the food that caught my breath.

It was him. Loki, standing at the end of the table, looking impossibly handsome, as always. He was dressed in a deep green suit that made his eyes stand out even more. His usual mischievous grin was nowhere to be seen; instead, there was something softer in his expression—something that tugged at my heart.

“You did all this?” I asked, my voice coming out as barely a whisper.

Loki walked toward me, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “You’ve been gone far too long, darling. I thought I should make your return memorable.”

I blinked, taking it all in. “This is incredible.”

He reached out, taking my hands in his, the warmth of his touch instantly calming the last remnants of exhaustion from my trip. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I whispered, leaning into him.

He chuckled softly, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Two weeks without you felt like an eternity.”

I rested my head against his chest, the familiar sound of his heartbeat steady and soothing. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I mumbled, overwhelmed by the effort he had put in.

“Of course, I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You deserve nothing less.”

My heart swelled at his words. For all his teasing and trickery, Loki had a way of making me feel like I was the most important person in the universe. And in moments like this, I believed it.

He led me to the table, pulling out a chair for me like a perfect gentleman. I laughed softly, taking a seat. “I don’t know where to start,” I admitted, looking over the food.

“Anywhere you wish,” he said, sitting beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. “This evening is all yours.”

We spent the night eating, laughing, and talking about everything and nothing all at once. The food was divine, but the company—being back with him—was what made it perfect. Every so often, he’d reach across the table, taking my hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my heart flutter every time.

After what felt like hours, the candles burned low, and the night grew quieter. We sat in a comfortable silence, the world outside fading away.

Loki turned to me, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “You know,” he began, his voice low, “no matter where you go, or how long you’re away, you’ll always have a place here—with me.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, emotions welling up as I looked into his eyes. “I know,” I whispered back. “And I’m never leaving for that long again.”

He smiled, leaning closer, his lips brushing softly against mine. The kiss was gentle, slow, full of all the things we didn’t need to say out loud. When we pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his hands cupping my face.

“I love you,” I breathed.

“And I love you,” he replied, his voice steady, yet full of that same overwhelming sincerity that made my heart skip a beat every time.

Being with Loki, under the soft glow of the candles, I knew there was nowhere else in all the realms I’d rather be.

[fantastic-bby]

Hollywood

Pairing: Reader x Hyunjin

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: Romance | Fluff | Model!Reader | Photographer!Hyunjin

'You were my dream and now it all feels so real'

Warnings: Alcohol

Masterlist | Crystal's Playlist

You. 

Beautiful you. 

Hyunjin can’t stop himself from picking the camera up from his bedside table, the repeated clicking of him winding the film filling the air. 

“Stop it,” you laugh lazily while reaching your hand out to stop him from taking more photos. 

“I can’t help myself,” he chuckles as he holds the camera in front of his face, framing you so perfectly through the viewfinder. 

He still can’t bring himself to believe that you’re real. He just doesn’t understand how someone as amazing as you actually exists and is right before him, haphazardly wrapped in the soft, linen sheets of his bed, your red dyed hair fanned over the pillow you lay on in a way that’s almost halo-esque.

You were classmates before friends, dreamers who would sit at the back of class giggling over modelling poses together. You were friends before complements, the same industry, but different roles where you were posing in the limelight on one floor, he was editing photos of other models a few floors down - now out of touch with each other with the busy days of work. Complements before lovers, an accidental brush of skin, fingers pushing hair out of your face before he framed you, his muse, and printed you on pages upon pages of magazines.

Lovers. 

Hyunjin didn’t know how to describe it. 

There was so much love in his heart for you, yet he didn’t think it was enough at times. He always wonders whether he’s giving you what you deserve as he takes yet another photo of you on his film camera; the same one you gifted him when you were 20 and in university. 

The same one that he used to take his first ever photo of you down by the docks a half an hour walk from your dorm. 

The same one that was basically the main factor in his final year project granting him a graduate in first class honours. 

Hyunjin loves art. He loves visual art and all the likes - photography, paintings, drawings, sculptures - you. 

There’s nothing in this world that he thinks would ever do you justice. Not paintings, not sculptures, not even his own camera. He thinks that no image could ever replicate just how ethereal you look in reality. 

The way your eyes fill with so much love and comfort when you see him, the way you laugh at even the stupidest things he says, the way you look at him buried within his sheets.

Nothing could compare to the real you. 

The real, living, beautiful you. 

He doesn’t understand how great he must’ve been in a past life to have been blessed by you in this one. He’s convinced that you were brought to him by the universe. 

You’re the reason he’s in this life anyway. 

If it weren’t for you, Hyunjin wouldn’t have ended up becoming a modelling photographer in the first place. 

He graduated as an editor and a designer, working hours away into the dead of night to finish projects and meet ridiculously quick deadlines. Eyes boring into the glowing screen with darkness shrouding him, Hyunjin had become used to what felt like a lifeless life. He got used to a rinse-repeat of waking up, eating, working, meeting you, working, and sleeping for maybe four hours if he was lucky. 

But when you had somehow peeled Hyunjin away from his computer, he realised that there was more to life. 

“Do you really have to go?” you pout, half-lidded eyes begging him to keep you company while you drank the night away. 

“I have to work, hun,” he chuckled. It was common for you both to use pet names with each other, even when you were in university. For some reason, it had stuck when he jokingly called you ‘love’ one day while he was cooking dinner for you both. 

Dazed, Hyunjin didn’t understand what it was that he was feeling as he looked at you. He watched the way you closed your eyes for a moment, seemingly in drunken thought before you turned away with a sigh. Attention now stuck on the bright, glowing moon that hung in the sky, you let out a contented hum. 

“Maybe you should quit your job and just hang out with me,” you jokingly say. 

Hyunjin watched the way you swayed along with the music. He could’ve honestly convinced himself that he had dreamt the entire night with how surreal it felt. 

He wondered whether he had always loved you. The feeling that surged through his veins felt unbelievably refreshing the more he realised that he was in love with you. Images of you flashed through his mind like a collage, all of which framed as though they were taken with the old film of his camera. 

It couldn’t have been real. 

Until you turned back to him and returned the stare wordlessly. You didn’t even seem to question the way Hyunjin was looking at you. Despite the alcohol that flooded your own veins, you somehow recognised that it was love. 

So you clumsily leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips, Hyunjin recoiling purely out of shock and staring at you with wide eyes. You stayed in place, inches away from his face with your star-filled eyes looking up into his. It took a moment for his mind to process what was happening, and when it did, it didn’t take long for him to know what he wanted.

“Fuck it, I’ll quit my job,” Hyunjin blurted out before pressing his lips back onto yours. 

It took a day before he sent in his resignation letter to his boss and buddy up with the photographers in your company to work exclusively with you. He doesn’t understand how he even got in with how quickly and surreal the process was. 

Somehow, your producers loved how Hyunjin framed you so much that they let him work exclusively as your photographer. 

And you were exclusively his muse. 

It didn’t matter who the shoot was for, Hyunjin would be the one taking photos of you. 

It didn’t matter if the magazine had their own photographers because none of them were ever able to properly capture you. 

So, here you are. 

Laid in bed with Hyunjin still taking photos of you that he planned to develop later in the weekend. Trembling just at the feeling of your hand in his, Hyunjin thought this sort of love only ever existed in movies. With his head buried in the crook of your neck and his entire body almost shivering at your scent, he still couldn’t understand how he was living a life like this. 

“I still have to convince myself that you’re real,” Hyunjin mutters against your skin where he presses a featherlite kiss. 

“Why’s that?” you hum. 

“You’re like a dream. It’s insane - I don’t know how to describe it. But it feels like you’re something that I had always dreamed of and yet -” he pulls away to look into your lovesick eyes. Hyunjin smiles and presses his lips to yours, letting the flavour of the wine that lingers on your tongue melt into his mouth before he pulls away. 

He sighs and smiles. 

“Yet you’re so, very, real.” 

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 3

Part 1_2

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

It was less than two days after that dinner that I confronted my master during one of her working nights.

I went to visit her late, the deserted hallways and dim lights guiding me as I made my way to one of the meeting rooms where I knew she would go when she needed a place to concentrate.

I had been tossing and turning for a long time in bed. Time passed as usual, yet it felt as if I had a clock ticking over my head. I could hear the ticking of the seconds, a countdown that kept me awake, though I couldn’t understand its end or meaning. Or rather, I suspected what was tormenting me... no.

I knew.

That acidic feeling twisting my stomach was tied to all those memories that kept replaying in my head, sweet memories that I felt were inevitably becoming more and more tainted every day. I had decided that I needed to take a break, some distance, to grow. And if I couldn’t manage that, then it would be ridiculous to complain about something I wasn’t trying to change myself.

So, I gathered my courage.

As soon as I left my room, I realized that Vernestra was not there. In the shared living room, there were still signs of her passage, like some books piled on the table, the chair moved, and the lamp turned off and left near the rest. Just to be sure, I checked her bedroom, but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw the bed still perfectly made.

I went out after putting a cloak over my pajamas. I knew exactly where she was when she needed her space to work, so I took the stairs to the lower floors.

It was late at night, the moonlight outside lighting my path even though it was mostly clear, given the simple and empty hallways of the Jedi Temple. From a distance, I saw the orange light under the door that I recognized well. I knocked a couple of times before opening it, knowing that just as I expected to see her there, she knew that only I would come looking for her. And indeed, when I stepped into the room, she didn’t even lift her eyes to look at me.

She was sitting at the center of the large oval table, numerous papers spread before her, with some secondary, warm-toned lights illuminating the table's surface. I closed the door behind me using the Force as I approached, sitting on the opposite side from her, the cloak wrapped tightly around my waist, the hood over my head to shield me from the light evening breeze coming through the cracked windows.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked, breaking the silence that had surrounded us after a few minutes of my entrance.

Her eyes remained fixed on the papers she was reading and marking with a pen from time to time. I stared at her in silence, mesmerized by those simple gestures, the rough sound of the pen scratching the paper and the surface beneath it. I could have lived that moment for the rest of my life. In peace.

"I need to talk to you," I began after exhaling deeply. I pulled my feet onto the chair to hug my legs tightly, a cold I didn’t understand shaking me to the core. I don’t know if she noticed something was wrong or if it was just a natural reaction to my words, but she stopped writing to finally look me in the face, her expression furrowed, perhaps picking up on something in the few words I had spoken.

“Of course. Tell me, my padawan.”

I pursed my lips into a line before clearing my throat. I looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again, Qimir’s name echoing in my mind, "I’d like to receive a mission away from the temple for a while. I need a change of scenery. I feel ready." That last sentence connected to what had happened some time ago when I had a breakdown in Qimir’s arms. We had agreed together that I would stay near the temple until I felt safe again. Even the missions we had done together had always been in safer, more controlled locations. But now, I needed that distance, even if I didn’t feel quite ready.

She placed the pen on the table, her posture now composed as she leaned back in her chair, her fingers slightly intertwined in front of her on the smooth surface. "Is that what’s making you so restless? I could feel you were agitated in your room."

Obviously, she understood that something was going on. It was impossible to pull the wool over her eyes in such a childish way. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you," I replied, buying myself a few moments to think.

She shook her head, her gaze still fixed on mine, making me uneasy. I could almost feel her thinking, as if she were trying to read my mind through my eyes. "Please. You know I would have come here anyway. It helps me focus. But, you haven't seemed at ease these days. I was hoping you’d come to talk to me when you felt ready, and now this is what you're asking me? Is there nothing else?"

We were both whispering, perhaps caught in the stillness of the quiet evening, yet her words hit me like a slap. Of course there was more, I wasn’t a good liar, or maybe the lie itself was too far-fetched to be believable. But I needed to distance myself from Qimir.

"I'm... suffocating here. I want to try and take that next step, even if... it scares me." I admitted, without revealing too much, pulling the fabric of my cloak tightly around my knees, curling into a cocoon on the chair.

There were a few more moments of silence before she lowered her gaze back to her papers. "Alright, you could actually help me with these senators. It’s nothing complicated—you’d mostly be there to reassure them. I can send you with Qimir if—" but I cut her off abruptly, my tone sharper. "No."

I realized my mistake, but it was too late to take it back. She looked at me, still hunched over the sheet she had picked up, then slowly set it down before leaning forward onto the table, her elbows on the surface, hands clasped together once again. "No to the mission? Or no to Qimir?"

She already knew the answer, I could hear it in her tone when she said his name, emphasizing and drawing out the letters. Whether she wanted me to admit it or not, it was obvious she had already figured it out. Their relationship hadn’t been great for a while now, and I knew that well. Still, she had never said anything bad about him in front of me, but now she seemed ready to point fingers.

"I... should go alone, right?" I didn’t feel up to voicing my doubts about Qimir. The guilt was eating me alive, and I didn’t think I had any right to accuse him of anything, but I also couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine in a relationship I was starting to feel trapped in. "It's not about Qimir. Really." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than her. "I want to take the next step. To move forward on my own."

I struggled to meet her gaze, preferring to focus on the slight fluttering of the papers scattered across the table, swaying at the corners with the light gusts that came rhythmically every few minutes. She, on the other hand, was seeking out my eyes with thinly veiled insistence. "And that's it? Nothing else to add? If something’s bothering you, you should tell me, padawan."

I nodded. "I need to move forward."

Long moments followed my words, as I lost myself in the light scratches on the table’s surface, and she remained still, her gaze fixed on me. "Okay. Then..." she finally moved, reaching for the datapad casually resting to the side. "Here." She placed the device in the center of the table in front of me. Moments later, a hologram of a planet appeared. "This is Ord Mantell. There are conflicts on the planet due to particularly violent political debates. They have no shortage of soldiers, and the Jedi haven’t been requested as assistance, but there’s a shortage of doctors and nurses. I’ve been organizing a potential team to send, and you could act as an assistant, helping out in the field."

I listened in silence, but with a light in my eyes that grew brighter with every word she said. I had always wanted to serve as a medic. I’d asked her countless times, even at the cost of falling behind on missions, a request she had always denied—until that night.

"Really?!" I squealed, more excited than I wanted to admit, and she nodded.

That was enough to distract me from Qimir, even more than I had imagined at first. I went to bed excited, but also a bit nervous, afraid that it was all just a dream or worse, a lie. But the next day, when I came out of the bedroom, everything was already prepared.

My bags, the transport, the mission details.

Everything.

I couldn’t help but notice the more pronounced bags under Vernestra's eyes, a sign that she had spent the entire night organizing my departure. I didn’t thank her verbally, knowing she wasn’t the type. A single glance was enough to show her how much I appreciated what she had done for me, and I knew from her smile that she had received the message.

It was still early morning when I got into the taxi that would take me to the spaceport where the rest of the team was waiting. I didn’t look back twice, caught up in the euphoria.

There wasn’t room to think about anything else.

From the first day I set foot there, I was already swamped with duties. The situation was truly tragic, between refugees and soldiers. Being there as part of the humanitarian aid meant we had the responsibility to help anyone in need, which in practice meant our base was completely packed in every corner.

The main hospital in one of the safe towns was the gathering point for all sorts of aliens—displaced children, homeless families, wounded of every kind. They were everywhere, crammed inside and outside the base where a tent camp had been set up for when there weren’t enough beds.

For the record, I don’t think I ever saw a bed free.

Once again, my expectations didn’t compare to reality. Sure, they teach you to be ready for anything, but reading or hearing about it was nothing like the real thing.

Maybe I was too young to be there. I wasn’t even the youngest, actually—I saw ten-year-olds helping as best they could, carrying medicine and tools to those who needed them. But there was a huge difference between us.

You could see the war and pain in their eyes. The galaxy had already marked them deeply, but me... I was weak.

I don’t know how many attempts it took me to get used to the pools of blood, the terrifying wounds of the soldiers, the cries of the families. It was all psychologically crushing, to the point that I even considered quitting.

Not the mission.

The Jedi.

I didn’t even have the stomach to help those in need. Was it really worth doing a humble job like a librarian or a caretaker?

Maybe they were better than me—they were there out of vocation, not to run away. I, on the other hand, wanted to flee.

Maybe being a Jedi wasn’t my path.

I stayed there for months. I told myself I’d talk to my master about my thoughts when I returned. Maybe it was too early to judge myself, maybe I really just needed time, maybe I needed to be forced through it. But... wasn’t that all wrong? The fact that I was in the middle of a war at such a young age. Inexperienced... alone.

I managed to make some friends, meet other Jedi, but I still felt a void.

I wanted to talk to my master about my doubts, but I didn’t want to worry her even more.

So, I called the one person I thought I was close to.

Qimir.

I felt uncomfortable calling him after disappearing for months without saying anything, but I believed he would understand. He knew better than I did the pace of our duties.

It was a particularly stressful evening that convinced me to call him. We had suffered many losses, and I had run away every single time. When the patients started gasping their final breaths, I froze, terrified. My hands would tremble, and I’d be pushed aside to make room for someone more capable.

I used to think death was quiet, yet all I kept hearing were breaths drowning in blood and bodies convulsing with unnatural, monstrous spasms, I would say.

I fled, leaving death behind, took a shower with the little freezing water that came from the showerhead, and threw myself into bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

I wanted to clear my head, but I had nowhere to escape to, so I thought of Qimir.

I needed him and his comfort.

So, I decided to call him.

He answered after a few minutes. I expected to see him looking sleepy, but what appeared before me was a very different image. He was wearing his usual tunic, his hair slick with sweat, his face dirty with soil.

"Look who’s shown up."

He smiled at me, but the warmth I was hoping for was nowhere to be found.

"Qimir... I didn’t mean to disturb you, but..." I pulled my legs to my chest, curled up on the bed, the blankets reaching my chin.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?" He interrupted, his voice low, hoarse.

"I... it was a last-minute thing. I talked to Vernestra and—"

He let out a laugh that cut off my words. "I bet. She wanted to get you away from me."

I looked at him, confused. My heart skipped a beat—something about the start of this conversation didn’t feel... right.

"What? No. It was something I had asked for and—"

"So, it was you who wanted to leave?" The question came out almost like a growl.

For some reason, I sat up on the mattress, something in the pit of my stomach making me feel uneasy.

"Qimir, what are you saying? Did... something happen?"

He stayed silent for a few minutes.

Something in his gaze was off... he seemed angry. Or maybe there was more to it—I could glimpse a sinister spark in his eyes.

"Vernestra didn’t tell you, did she? We’re at odds over you."

I remained silent, confused, trying to understand what he meant, and he took that as a cue to continue.

"I asked her to make you my padawan."

I wondered how long ago he had visited her,

"She refused."

I bit my lip, thinking. I wanted to try and lighten the conversation, but it didn’t seem possible. "Qimir... I... I don’t understand. I don’t know why you want me to—" I tried to speak slowly, searching for the right words, but a thud on the other end made me jump. "You don’t understand? Don’t you see? The bond between us? We’re meant for each other. You are mine." The icy expression he gave me took my breath away.

This... this wasn’t right.

"No, Qimir. You’re losing control. I want to help you, I’ll talk to Vernestra and—" another thud interrupted me. Wherever he was sitting, he suddenly stood up, his hands clenched into fists. Despite the small size of the hologram, I could still feel an aura... dark. Suffocating.

"I’m tired of hearing you mention her. She’s the one clouding your mind. I’ll deal with her, and I’ll show you who’s right."

He ended the call.

I sat there, mouth half-open, ready to say words I couldn’t even begin to form.

What was he doing? Why did everything seem worse now that I was away?

I wanted to call him back, but the thought made my hands tremble.

I wanted to call Vernestra, but I didn’t have the courage to say aloud what I was starting to suspect.

So, I wrote her a message.

A long message about Qimir and some of his behavior. I never explicitly mentioned his words—they were more suspicions and general doubts, not accusations.

Again, I was weak... I couldn’t accuse him of anything.

I sent it and got back under the covers.

I couldn’t sleep, and things got worse when I received a response in the middle of the night.

"Qimir has become dangerous to himself and others. Stay away from him. Don’t return to the temple until I tell you."

That was the last straw.

It was confirmation.

No need to say anything explicitly—she seemed to understand exactly what I was referring to.

I spent a long time reading and rereading that message, and the longer the minutes passed, the more a bad feeling weighed on me.

The Force seemed to speak through my nerves, a frightened voice telling me to move, to act before the worst could happen.

I didn’t think twice.

I got up on shaky feet and quickly packed a backpack with my essentials. There were only a few hours until dawn, and it was easy to find someone to ask for help among the other Jedi.

I didn’t say much, just that I wanted to speak to my master about the past few months. In less than three hours, I knew where to find her and was on a shuttle that would take me to the base in space where I’d board a small single-seater to reach my destination.

I ate some rations with trembling hands, spent hours in hyperspace, lost in my thoughts. I tried writing a message—actually, several messages to my master—but she didn’t seem to be responding.

So, in a panic, I wrote to Qimir, something casual asking where he was and what he was doing, but he didn’t answer either.

It could mean everything or nothing, but I was nervous. I needed to see her, to know more about what was happening between those two.

I reached the planet in the middle of the afternoon. It was mostly a research area, with a few peaceful towns, and miles of mountains and swamps. I landed in the town where I knew I would find her along with other Jedi. Nothing seemed familiar, but as soon as I introduced myself, I was warmly welcomed.

"Where can I find my master?" I asked.

The answer I received nearly gave me a heart attack.

"She’s up in the mountains, collecting more samples and traces. Why the rush, though? Not even two hours ago, Qimir was here asking about her as well."

I stammered some nonsense in reply and headed straight into the dense forest.

I didn’t realize that the directions, while accurate, were vague about the distance, and by the time I continued running, the sky had begun to darken.

I felt the Force calling out to me, screaming a warning—the sense that something terrible was about to happen. I wanted to believe I was just being paranoid, but I knew something was wrong.

I started to recognize traces on the ground—signs of digging, markings on the trees... and finally, the sound.

A man’s voice shouting.

I was exhausted from the running and the lack of sleep accumulating with each minute, but at last, I saw them.

They were at the edge of the forest, beyond a cliff that separated them from the other side of the woods.

"You abandoned me!" Qimir suddenly shouted, making me jump. Vernestra was staring at him intently without saying a word, her expression hard, her posture rigid.

"You’re losing your way. Surrender and let me help you."

At that moment, I noticed Qimir had his lightsaber in hand. As he moved to strike, I jumped out of the shadows, shouting his name.

Silence surrounded us.

Both of them realized my presence at that moment, looking at me in surprise.

Qimir whispered my name before taking a step toward me, his eyes wide. The coldness I had once recognized was now clear in his gaze. It terrified me.

Almost at the same time, Vernestra and I drew our lightsabers against him. I took a defensive stance, stepping back, my hands trembling.

"You’re pointing a weapon at me? After all the time we’ve spent together?" His voice was hoarse, low, almost a whisper that made me shake like a leaf.

"Qimir... please... you’re scaring me," I admitted, my eyes locked on his.

I don’t know if seconds or minutes passed, but his response was the final piece of that disaster.

"You’ve been deceived, just like I was, by Vernestra. But don’t worry, I’ll save you, my flower."

With a feline leap, he turned, his blue saber clashing with her purple one.

I stood there, frozen, watching them. I could barely recognize them, so angry with each other. The smiles, the jokes, the time spent together—it all seemed like it had never existed behind those furious eyes.

They fought relentlessly, without holding back. It was the first time I had ever seen two experienced Jedi in battle—fighting to survive a mortal duel.

I knew both of their combat styles well, as they had both trained me. I wanted to act, to move and help my master, but I didn’t have the courage. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of hurting Qimir or of the dangerous fight itself, but all I could do was watch, my mouth trembling.

I snapped out of my trance when I heard Qimir’s furious shout. "I will kill you!"

With a swift move, he struck her hard in the side, and without thinking, I rushed forward, putting myself between them and blocking his next blow.

"Qimir, please, no—" I managed to stop him again. My hands were shaking, and I was gripping my saber so tightly that my fingers hurt.

I pushed him back a few steps, my ears ringing, unable to sense my surroundings, too focused on him—on his rage-filled eyes, his furious strikes, the sound of our sabers clashing, too often close to my face, stealing the air from my lungs.

"Stay in your place, or I’ll teach you a lesson."

I blocked another strike, but I was naïve to think it would work again. With a precise slash, he cut my lightsaber in half, leaving me defenseless.

The crystal in the center of the hilt was shattered, now split into two pieces that I held in my hands.

Still in shock, I let my guard down, and he took the chance to throw me against a tree. I hit the ground, gasping in pain.

In front of me, Vernestra seemed to have recovered and reentered the battle.

The blow had stunned me, leaving my heart in my throat. I rubbed my eyes and got up to reach them.

Everything happened so fast.

A well-placed strike followed by a choked gasp.

I froze.

Vernestra fell to her knees, impaled by that blue saber, hers rolling across the ground toward me.

My ears were ringing.

It was as if my mind had gone blank.

Maybe it was survival instinct, or perhaps the shock I was feeling, but I moved without thinking.

Using the Force, I summoned her purple saber to me and, activating the whip, snapped it forcefully at Qimir’s back.

His scream of pain twisted my insides.

The look of shock and hatred in his eyes as he turned, losing his balance. Before he could move, I instinctively pushed him hard, away from Vernestra’s body.

Maybe I pushed him too hard.

When he stumbled back, finding himself at the edge of the cliff, he couldn’t regain his balance. The ground beneath him gave way, and he fell, staring at me—maybe scared, maybe betrayed.

The silence that followed was chilling.

I rushed toward Vernestra, but it was too late. Her body lay on the ground, her eyes wide open, empty, and the smell of burnt flesh filled my senses.

I wanted to lean over the edge, to see if Qimir was still alive, driven by the survival instinct that, now that everything was over, finally allowed me to recognize the danger.

No.

I didn’t move.

I remained on my knees in the dirt, a dull ringing in my ears that kept me from thinking.

And the lifeless body of my master, whom I had failed to save.

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

I just can't stop thinking about pony's emotional state and his relationship with darry post canon. bc they made up when soda had his whole convo with them and they swore to never fight again, but they obviously still had their moments. but all I can think about is how after everything, when darry yells at pony, or even raises his voice a little bit, pony just doesn't have it in him to fight back. I can just imagine their first fight post canon, sitting at the dinner table arguing back and forth, but when darry starts to yell at pony expecting pony to yell back, pony just sits there staring at his plate and bursts in to tears. not saying a word, not getting up and leaving the table, not even crying quietly, just crying without being able to lift his head to look at soda or darry, who are both staring at him in complete shock, darry feeling like the biggest jerk in the world because he made his little brother cry, and over what? something as stupid as math homework? forgetting to bring his sneakers to track? not cleaning his room? and poor soda is thinking that somehow, this is so much worse than the yelling back and forth. so yeah, any arguments that lead to darry snapping end in pony crying his eyes out for anyone around them to see

[wings-of-ink]

zahn spinnet about cook mc making a whole shepherds pie just for them

they really need to put some meat on those bones

Oh that would be so sweet. Also, super weird you mentioned shepherds pie specifically...that is exactly what I've made for dinner tonight! You watchin' me, Anon?

So, Zahn has an optional romantic scene in the chapter that I'm writing now. I'm not too far away from doing that scene currently, so I think I'll post a teaser from that. We'll work on getting Zahn fed well in the next couple chapters. ^_^

So, until then...

The smell around you is divine. You've patiently waited for your newest creation to finish baking over the fire. Zahn is to meet you at home soon, and little do they know about the feast you have prepared.

Carefully, you use your hand, wrapped in a towel, to turn the trammel hook so you can retrieve the kettle. Prying the hot lid off you are suddenly enveloped more in the wonderful smells. It looks perfect. The mash you've placed atop the meat, gravy and vegetables has a lovely and lightly-toasted crust. The thick filling underneath bubbling through, creating extra tasty pockets of goodness.

As you let the pot cool, the brisk chill of early winter speeding things along, you prepare a basket of bread and a bottle of cider. A meal fit for royalty. You set the table, including the kettle and a single large plate just for Zahn. This special meal is only for them. You've already decided to have a simple meal of your own and some bread and cider of course. You cannot wait to see Zahn's big blue eye light up at the feast.

What should you call it, though? You used some mutton supplemented with a bit of goat as your meat...and it is a bit like a pie, just without pastry. Perhaps 'shepherd's pie' - considering a shepherd would have such animals at their disposal...they could eat the part of the flock they do not like. You smirk to yourself.

A knock sounds at the door - one that sounds like some sort of bizarre code before it resolves into frantic little taps.

"Come in!" you call.

Zahn rushes in and quickly closes the door behind them. They're piled with cloaks already, and the cold has barely set in. "Oh, it's so warm in here!"

After shedding all cloaks but their special one, Zahn rushes to hug you. You snuggle them close, tucking their cold nose into the crook of your neck. Once you begin feeling the pecks of little kisses, you know that Zahn is just warm enough. If you don't, you'll both end up missing dinner - again.

"Come sit, dinner is ready." You grab Zahn's hand and tug them to the table.

Zahn gasps. "Oh wow! That looks delicious. I love potatoes!"

"You love all food, and it's not just potatoes. Sit, I'll serve you."

Zahn claps. "Oh I love it when you tell me that," they say, plopping down in their seat.

You scoop out a huge helping of your special pie and carefully set it on the plate, splaying sliced bread along the side before you pour a cup of cider for them.

Zahn's eyes are huge and their hand is covering their mouth. "Oh, I'm drooling...but what about you?"

"I made this all for you. I told you that I'm going to make sure you get all the food you could ever want from now on. You're never going hungry ever again." You smile.

"All for me?"

You nod. "I'll start with bread and cider, but I'll just have some-"

"Please eat it with me..." Zahn's pink lips are pulled in a frown and you realize those blue eyes you adore so much are watery. "I can't believe you'd do something like this for the likes of me..." The tears finally fall. "I want you more than any feast."

You reach across the table and hold Zahn's hand. "Okay...if that's what you want."

Zahn smiles and wipes their eyes. "Let's eat until we have to roll on the floor to get around!"

As you dig in, Zahn's pleased moans over their food make you smile. They finish one plate quickly and then get another helping. "This is the best thing I've ever eaten. What is it?"

"You said that the last time we made a big dinner, and I call it shepherd's pie."

Zahn looks down at their plate. "...You made this out of a shepherd?"

You stare back unsure if Zahn is joking or not.

"Were they old or something?" Zahn asks, taking a big bite of the meat.

You really hope Zahn was joking...

[lyneys4]

ms grumpy <3

tartaglia x reader, modern au

Ms Grumpy and Mr Sunshine - “grumpy!”

‘Grumpy’, he had described you many times before. Tartaglia, Childe, Ajax, Mr Worldwide, a man with too many names to count was calling you ‘Grumpy pants’ in class.

You couldn’t tell if people where laughing at him, at you or with him but it was definitely all three.

You, ‘Ms Grumpy’ nicknamed by the one and only Tartaglia. Normally he rather everyone call him Childe but you always called him Tartaglia.

“Ms Grumpy you need to stop calling me by my full name it’s weird!” He complained.

“It’s not your full name, it’s your first name.” You corrected.

“Smartass,” he scoffed.

“I’ll only call you by those nicknames if you stop calling me Ms Grumpy,” you refuted.

“Well, Ms Grumpy. That’s never gonna happen.” he stated.

“Well, Tartaglia. I’ll never call you by a name other than Tartaglia.” you poked your tongue around him.

“Seriously stop calling me Tartaglia!” he complained more.

“It’s even that bad, do you know how ugly a nickname like Ms Grumpy is??” You retorted.

“I like it!” he said.

“Of course you do..” you sighed giving up this arguement.

And that was when he called you ‘Grumpy pants’. The amount of embarrassment you felt from that was unreal you just had walked away, he wasn’t worth talking too. But how did you unfortunately earn this nickname??

It all started when you were both 8, back in the 3rd Grade. Tartaglia was the new guy in class. He stood in the front of the class happily introducing himself with a bright grin.

He must have been really perceptive because he had noticed your sad, dull expression compared to everyone else in the room.

You were having a bad day because the science experience the day before had been cut short before it was your turn and you were still super sad about that.

You told your mum and she said she would buy the stuff for the experiment which was nice but you were still super upset about it. Since science experiments looked really cool when you were little kids. Now you dread science and their tests.

Tartaglia sat next to you and kept asking why you were so sad looking.

You rolled his eyes at him, wanting him to go away while you were busy sketching random things in your room.

“Hey! Ms Grumpy!” He called out, “I’m talking to you!!”

“Huh? Ms Grumpy?” You turned him.

“Yes you Grumpy pants! Actually I’m gonna called you Ms Grumpy since you don’t talk to me or tell your name.” he spoke with bad grammar.

“I don’t wanna be Ms Grumpy,” You frowned. You told him your name but he didn’t call you by that. He just kept calling you Ms Grumpy.

Tartaglia was the new kid which meant everyone in your class wanted to be friends with him. Since he was sitting next to you, it led people to believe you and Tartaglia were bestfriends so lots of people started talking to you more to be closer to him.

Well it worked for them. But you gained one friend, Scaramouche who ended up liking you for you but he was also at the time his bestfriend.

Although something eventually happened and he chose you over Tartaglia as you grew older. As time went on eventually he introduced you to more people and ever since then you, Scara, Yelan and Xiao were inseparable.

Normally you would never admit this but you were thankful to Tartaglia for the best bestfriend you could ever ask for because you quite literally had no friends since that day.

Tartaglia was always attached to you though. He would come up to you call you Ms Grumpy everytime he saw you.

You didn’t like him because he couldn’t understand you. He barely knew you and he was already calling you names.

He was also your neighbour, because when you got home that day you saw Tartaglia’s parents at your dinner table. You didn’t know they were his parents at the time but your mother told you there was someone waiting for you in your room.

It was Tartaglia jumping on your perfectly made pink bed.

“Stop jumping on my bed your gonna make it messy,” You pushed him. Luckily he fell onto the bed and not the floor.

He looked at you realising who you were. “Ms Grumpy!! I didn’t know this was your home.” You sighed. “Actually we live next to you!!”

Horror struck your face realising Tartaglia was now your neighbour which meant you would see him every morning, every night and every day.

Even though you disliked him, he was one of the people closest to you, literally not figuratively.

Ms Grumpy and Mr Sunshine - “no i’m not jealous!”

It was raining when you woke up, the thing that woke you up 10 mins before your alarm was about to go off was a notification from Tartaglia.

'rich kid tartaglia: hey ms grumpy its ur day today,'

'rich kid tartaglia: yk cuz its like raining.'

'rich kid tartaglia: ik ur reading this you have ur read reciepts on.'

'you: mb didnt notice'

'rich kid tartaglia: im texting u my ms grumpy msg bc im sick and not coming today.'

'you: thats too bad…'

'rich kid tartaglia: ik i cant see you today </3'

'rich kid tartaglia: it srsly breaks my heart i cant say ms grumpy to u in person.'

'you: nice talking to you tartaglia but i need to get ready for school'

'rich kid tartaglia: do well today!!'

'you: thanks' (rich kid tartaglia hearted this message!)

You sighed at your phone reading his message. You got up to get ready for school.

Despite his nickname for you, you didn’t really like the rain that much. You loved the sun. You hated it when rained because the mood was a lot more sadder and everything was wet and cold.

Instead of walking to school like you normally would, you had Scaramouche drive you to school. You hated walking in the rain. It was something you absolutely dreaded.

When you got to school it was absolutely freezing. The school was so poorly heated inside. All you did was shiver wherever you walked around.

Your friends were great people, maybe too great. Xiao had offered you his jacket but you knew he was gonna be cold so you politely declined him. But he insisted on making you warm so he had bought you hot chocolate from the canteen and where were you without Yelan?? Probably lost not knowing where any of your classes were. You normally had her walk you to class.

She had dropped you off at your next class since she had a different class. Scara, Yelan and Xiao all had classes together leaving you alone for this period.

You sat alone in this class but you didn’t care. Normally Tartaglia would try sit next to you but he wasn’t here today.

The class was extremely cold. Like freezing north pole snowing cold. There was boy who noticed. You’re pretty sure his name was like Lyney or something?

“Hey you look cold, you want my jacket?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” You lied, it was pretty obvious you lied.

He got up and sat in the empty seat next you. He didn’t have any friends in this class either. “I’m Lyney, incase you didn’t know. The one and only great magician Lyney.” he winked.

You tried to give his jacket back but he wouldn’t take it back.

You tell him your name but didn’t say anything more than that. Maybe thats what started his determination to talk to you.

He followed you around school and even walked with you when your friends were there.

Yelan had teased you a bit about him. But you ignored her. It was super awkward trying to talk to your friends with Lyney there following you like a lost puppy.

The next day you had class with him again too, Tartaglia wasn’t here again, he had messaged you saying he was super sick and of course greeting you with Ms Grumpy.

You had first period with Lyney, he had sat next to you. “Hey!! How are you,” He greeted you.

“I’m good,” You answered.

“Oh you responded,” He smiled. He kept on talking to you but you had absolutely no interest in him. You honestly just wanted him to shut up.

“Hey, I’m gonna be completely honest but I don’t really care so leave me alone.” It was honestly pretty mean but it’s on him for annoying you all day yesterday.

“Awwh, I just wanna be friends with you!” He begged.

“I don’t,”

“I’ll find a way to be friends with you then!” He said. Oh he was worse than Tartaglia…

All lesson he talked you nonstop, you nodding your head to everything he said not that you knew what he said. He could tell you weren’t really listening to him.

When you were walking to your next class with Scaramouche he had followed the both of you. Which is honestly super creepy but his determination was insane.

It was a problem, a problem for not only you but your friends.

Which meant a super late talk about it online.

'yelan !!: bro why is he following u around its kinda creepy.'

'you: he wants to be friends w me or smth'

'scara: how do we get rid of him??'

'xiaoao: maybe if u talked to him you could start building boundaries,'

'xiaoao: people care alot more when they feel like they are closer to someone'

'you: omg xiao thats so smart.'

'yelan !!: i dont get why he can’t just live you alone.'

'you: me too but hes so determined its scary.'

'scara: you should file a restraining order against him'

'you: woah calm urself its only been a day,'

'scara: and so days will turn into weeks’

'yelan !!: actually i think xiaos idea doesnt seem so bad lets try that.'

'yelan !!: okay its late i gtg sleep i need my beauty rest'

'scara: idk ab u guys but i get super bad vibes ab him.'

'you: me too but ig i gotta talk to him.. its fine i’ll be alright whats the worse that could happen??'

Yea, what was the worse that could happen? That was something for you to find out later.

The next day when you had class with him you ended up talking to him. He wasn’t that bad to talk to at all. He was so happy you were talking to him.

“Okay, and this is,” He points to something you don’t know or understand but you just wanted to get his class over and done with.

When class ended Lyney didn’t follow you and your friends around. So Xiao’s plan had worked.

You actually wanted Tartaglia to come back and sit with you so Lyney wouldn’t talk as much.

But when Tartaglia didn’t come to school for the entire week, you and Lyney actually got unexpectedly close.

You started to genuinely enjoy talking to Lyney and completely forgot about Tartaglia’s messages about you being Ms Grumpy.

You and Lyney hung out a lot and your friends even started to get use to him coming over. Yelan and Xiao even started enjoying Lyney’s tricks.

You and Lyney became super close ever since that week without Tartaglia. He became the person you enjoyed sitting with in that class.

But things weren’t great for Tartaglia, the feeling Tartaglia felt when he came back to school to see you with Lyney was a feeling he didn’t like. And he couldn’t seem to understand why.

He didn’t like seeing you with Lyney, getting along so well with him when you never did with him. He understood why you both never got to hang out like that and still regrets giving you that nickname in a way but it was his special nickname for you.

You felt like Tartaglia was finally distancing himself away from you. Which was a relief for you. But Tartaglia didn’t like the distance he had put. It felt insufferable and he didn’t understand why he did it.

It took a while for Tartaglia to figure out why but he finally understood he was stuck in his own love triangle, and he was not the one you were gonna end up with.

Hell, he didn’t even know he liked you?? How will he ever get over this??

Ms Grumpy and Mr Sunshine - “understood, me?”

It was maybe one of the worse days ever for Tartaglia but it was truly one of the best days ever for you.

Teyvat High’s Prom was coming soon, you and Yelan had been going windowshopping recently looking at clothes you could buy. But there was no one to take you since Xiao and Yelan are going together as friends and Scaramouche isn’t too fond of social events.

Lyney had been planning something for ages with your friends. What they were planning you had no idea? But they were all in the same class and in a group project together so you had assumed it was just that.

You were wrong, but it wasn’t the bad wrong. It was a nice surprise maybe too nice? Honestly you didn’t know what to think about it.

While you were walking down the hallway with Tartaglia teasing you, calling you Ms Grumpy, a party popper appeared at his feet and exploded right in front of him which made you let out a giggle.

Suddenly the hallway was filled with confetti set by Lynette, Freminet had appeared holding a bouquet of Rainbow Roses as Xiao pushed you towards a sign held up by Yelan, “Will you go to the Prom with me?”

Overwhelmed by the surprised Lyney approaches you grabbing your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it, you didn’t want to reject him out loud so you whispered into his ear and told him “I’ll think about it,” with a smile on your face.

Everyone around thought you had accepted his promposal, everyone including Tartaglia who had to put a smile on his face and clap along with everyone else who was watching this go down.

‘Top 10 embarrassing promposals…’ you thought in your head, ‘Where was Scaramouche at? That’s fishy’ you thought.

You tried to look for an opportunity to get away from the crowd in the hallway, people were talking to you and Lyney taking videos of the scene.

“Ms Grumpy,” Tartaglia called out to you, “This is a little bit embarrassing but my dad’s car broke down so I desperately need your parents to drive me home,” He explained quickly followed by dragging you out of the hallway.

“Wait, I never agreed to driving you home,” you yanked his hand off yours.

“I know, I was just lying. Did you like my preformance,” He gave you a teasing grin. He was mocking Lyney.

“You don’t like being recorded right? So I figured as the nice boy next door i’d get you out of such a situation.” he recalled.

“No need to thank me. If I had a promposal as embarrassing as that I’d be begging for someone to get me out of there. Seriously I didn’t think anyone would do that.” he rambled obnoxiously.

“Well I’m going home.” you cut him off mid ramble. “And even though you told me not to thank you, thanks I guess,” you glanced back at Tartaglia for a second before heading home.

You were lying in bed messaging Scara.

'you: bro where were u?'

'scara: didnt wana get involved soz'

'scara: so hows it going????'

'you: tbh i wanted to reject him but not infront of everyone.'

'you: people were recording us it was so uncomfy :( '

'you: tartaglia got me out of it im kinda surprised'

'scara: im not, sounds like smth he would do.'

'you: nah pretty sure he js wanted to shit on lyney'

'scara: well ig that could be an answer.'

'scara: are you gonna keep ignoring the gc orrr??'

'you: i muted them and lyney i havent checked.'

- 15 messages from 'were not emos' -

- 4 messages from 'lyney' -

- 1 missed called from 'lyney' -

'you: omds its 19 missed messages and 1 missed call altogether…'

'scara: only one missed call they going easy on u lol'

'you: fml'

You put the phone down and closed your eyes. Maybe it was better to just sleep. You didn’t feel like responding. If you just message them in the morning you doubt they would even respond.

You tried to sleep, shutting off at 10pm only to wake up to 2 calls at 1am, you must have forgetten to turn your phone back on mute after playing mobile games for a bit.

- 2 missed calls from 'were not emos' -

You’re phone started ringing again, you were tired and pissed they interrupted your sleep so you decided to pick up and hear out what the have to say

“y/n what the hell??” Yelan’s voice spoke up. “yea what was that about?” Xiao asked.

“Wha-? What was what about?” you answered half awake. “No you know what that was about you completely ignored Lyney’s confession do you understand how much of a bitchass move that was.” Yelan berated you.

“Oh hop off her dick Yelan, she didn’t have to answer shit.” Scaramouche interrupted her.

“Scara where were you? I thought you were gonna help us out. She’s your bestfriend wouldn’t you help her get a date or are you inlove with her,” Xiao said, “Inlove are you crazy, fuck off.” Scara scoffed.

“Xiao what on earth are you on, listen Scara and me are like siblings— what is wrong with you guys why would you force a confession on me.” you stood up for yourself. “I was uncomfortable, and I don’t need to explain myself if it bothers you so much then don’t talk to me.”

“y/n c’mon don’t be like that, you’ve probably made Lyney a laughing stock—” you cut her off. “Shut up! Are you seriously taking Lyney’s side just because I didn’t reciprocate his feelings???? What kind of friends are you,” you were in slight tears from how tired you were and how absurd you’re closest friends were being.

“You guys are so cruel to y/n, im off to sleep.” Scara left the group call. You left too and left the groupchat. Why on earth were they so focused on Lyney’s feelings while completely disregarding yours, it hurt even more knowing those were your closest friends.

You drifted off to sleep, every message you got you ignored.

You woke up to your alarm, you checked your phone spams from Yelan and Xiao, Lyney’s messages were just hateful and Scara had left the groupchat. You’re friend group just broke up over a boy and it just left you mentally drained.

Getting up slowly and trying to get ready, you just couldn’t. After last night you didn’t feel comfortable with the atmosphere. You were dressed up and ready but you could only take a step out the door.

“Yo, y/n! You don’t look too great,” A voice coming from your side called out your name, “y-y/n..?!” you stammered out from shocked.

“Yeah, it’s your name isn’t it?” He walked over to you. “I don’t know it just surprised me that you’d call me by my name.” you admitted

“You wanna skip? You seem out of it let’s get some frozen yogurt!” Tartaglia grabbed your hand and turning you in the direction of the shops. “Live a little! If you’re not comfortable just hanging out with me, we can call Scaramouche.”

“No, its fine. Let’s eat!” a smile appeared on your face as your steps fall in line with his.

“You have a pretty smile,” …

“Thank you, Tartaglia,”