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wakeup01 · 4 months

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Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

#transformation #gay #jock #brainwashing

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sadnymi · 25 days

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「 ✦ The masked boy. ✦ 」

regulus black x reader x barty crouch jr

Summary: following Regulus to what I expected to be a harmless party turned into a night of hidden desires and whispered secrets. Just to meet the masked stranger who seems to know more of me than I expected .

Words: 3,5k

Going to the party was undoubtedly a risky decision, but the allure of secrecy and adventure pulled me in. I overheard Regulus discussing it, and despite Pandora, bless her sensible soul warning of potential trouble, curiosity, that insatiable beast, had her claws firmly sunk into my insides. Ignoring her dire pronouncements, I transformed into a shadow the moment Pandora had fallen asleep Sneaking out I followed Regulus carefully, staying hidden until we reached a mysterious secret door within Hogwarts.

The door creaked open a sliver, revealing two hulking figures clad in black. Their imposing stature and steely gazes instantly confirmed my worst suspicions – this was no ordinary gathering. Fear, cold and sharp, snaked its way through me as one of them addressed Regulus in a low, gravelly voice.

"Who is this?" he rumbled, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Regulus, his back momentarily turned, whirled around at the sound of the question. His face, usually a canvas of bored indifference, contorted into a mask of surprise and, dare I say, a hint of… fear? Our eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, I saw my own panic reflected back at me.

He recovered quickly, however, mustering a semblance of nonchalance. "She's with me," he declared, his voice a touch too loud to be entirely convincing. He strode towards me, a forced casualness in his gait, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, a hint of desperation clinging to the words.

Once inside, the doors clanged shut with a finality that echoed my growing unease. Regulus whirled on me, his green eyes flashing with fury. "What in Merlin's beard, Y/N, were you thinking?" he hissed, his voice barely a whisper above a growl.

Shame burned hot on my cheeks."I… I followed you," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was curious, . I just wanted to see I’m so sorry reg …"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Curious ? This isn't some harmless gathering, Y/N! You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into!" The anger in his voice was laced with a hint of fear, a chilling realization that sent shivers down my spine.

The gravity of the situation sank in as I realized the potential consequences of my impulsive decision. Regulus's protective instincts were in full force, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for putting him in a difficult position.

bravado I'd mustered to follow Regulus evaporated, replaced by a tremor that ran through my limbs. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the dimly lit chamber.

"I-I'm so sorry, Reg," I stammered, my voice choked with a mix of fear and remorse. "I had no idea… I shouldn't have followed you."

He sighed, the anger momentarily replaced by a weary resignation. "Hey," he said, his voice softening as he reached out to brush a stray tear from my cheek. "Don't cry. It's alright. We'll figure this out , Just… stay close, okay?"

He reached for a nearby table, his hand snagging two ornate masks. The intricate designs, fashioned from a material that shimmered faintly in the low light, were a stark contrast to the rough stone walls surrounding us.

"Put this on," he instructed, handing me one.

As I took the mask, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. My baby blue sweater and jeans felt utterly out of place amidst the air of clandestine secrecy.

"I… I didn't know there was a dress code," I mumbled, feeling foolish.

He let out a humorless chuckle, the sound devoid of mirth. "There isn't, exactly.There's more to this than a dress code, sweetheart,"

then his voice dropped to a low murmur, laced with a seriousness that sent shivers down my spine. "Don't talk to anyone inside. And whatever you do, Y/N, never, ever reveal your name. Understand ?"

Shame burned in my throat, hotter than any fiery Goblet of Fire. I nodded mutely, the weight of my recklessness pressing down on me.

"Good," he said, his voice a touch softer. "Now, stay by my side. We'll get through this."

His words, laced with a newfound protectiveness, offered a sliver of comfort amidst the swirling vortex of fear and regret. With the mask obscuring my features, I clung to him.

With a newfound resolve, we ventured deeper into the hidden chamber. The air grew thick with the stench of sweat, spilled ale, and a musky perfume that hung heavy in the air.

The sight that greeted me upon entering the main hall was enough to make my eyes widen in shock. Bodies, clad in various states of undress, writhed and swayed to the pulsating rhythm of an unseen band. Laughter, tinged with a hint of hysteria, echoed through the cavernous space.

Instinctively, I raised a hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp.

"Y/N, sweetheart," Regulus hissed, his voice tight with urgency, "if we're going to survive this, you need to feign normalcy."

I lowered my hand hastily, trying to avert my gaze from the two scantily clad figures who brushed past me, their movements more suggestive than celebratory.

"Reg," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the din, "what is this place? Why isn't anyone wearing any clothes?"

Regulus offered a wry smile. "Perhaps you were right about the dress code here," he said, his voice laced with a dark humor.

"Is this some sort of… secret society?" I pressed, trying to quell the rising panic within me. His silence spoke volumes.

"Does this have anything to do with your new tattoo?" I ventured, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.

Regulus' lips stretched into a tight smile as he politely greeted a scantily clad woman who offered us flagons of an unknown, steaming beverage. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he disposed of the drinks once the woman had sashayed away.

"Don't consume anything offered here, Y/N,Not food, not drink. Understood" he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "Just stay close, and whatever you do, don't draw attention to yourself."

Guilt gnawed at me as Regulus navigated the throng of pulsating bodies, his hand a constant presence on my arm.

"Listen closely, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the cacophony.

"After the clock strikes the hour, I can't stay by your side any longer. I have… business to attend to. However, there's a hidden staircase leading to the rooftop. Go there, and you'll be safe. Once I'm done with what brought me here, I'll find you. Don't be afraid, Y/N. I promise you'll be alright I won’t let anything happen to you ."

He reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. "And what about you, Reg? Will you be alright?"

He offered a smile, a gesture that felt more strained than comforting. "I'll handle myself, sweetheart. Just remember everything I told you: silence and anonymity are the keys . Don't speak to anyone, and for Merlin's sake, never reveal your name. Now, go."

His voice, laced with urgency, left no room for argument. I followed his gaze to the ornately carved clock dominating the far wall. The hands were inching closer to the ominous hour. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the approaching chimes.

Regulus squeezed my hand once, a silent promise of reunion, before melting back into the throng. Taking a deep breath, I found the hidden staircase tucked away in a darkened corner and ascended, each step taking me further away from the revelry and closer to the safety of the night.

Emerging onto the rooftop, I was greeted by a breathtaking vista. The moon, a luminous pearl in the inky expanse, cast an ethereal glow over the sleeping castle. Hogwarts, usually a source of comfort, seemed alien in this context, a silent sentinel against the backdrop of the forbidden revelry below.

I pulled my knees to my chest, the cool night air stealing the heat from my flushed cheeks. Fear, a potent cocktail of adrenaline and unease, churned in my gut. But amidst the turmoil, a flicker of hope remained. Regulus had promised.

The passage of time blurred on the rooftop. Every rustle of wind, every creak of the ancient castle, sent a jolt of fear through me. How long had I been waiting? An hour? Two? It felt like an eternity.

A soft voice, barely a whisper, shattered the silence. "Nice sweater "

I gasped, whirling around to find a stranger standing behind me.

This wasn't supposed to happen. My sole purpose was to wait for Regulus, I whirled around, my gaze falling on a tall figure shrouded in shadow. An ornate mask, similar to the one Regulus had provided, hiding his eyes , leaving only a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes , and a smirk in his lips

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. Perhaps, I thought, if I remained quiet, he would simply melt back into the darkness, a fleeting apparition.

"Are you mute, darling?" The stranger's voice, dripping with a sardonic lilt, shattered the fragile hope , I opened my mouth shocked by the rudeness of his words

"That's a cruel thing to say," I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a defiance born of desperation. Although his face remained half hidden, I could sense the widening of his smile, a predator relishing the chase.

"So you do talk," he chuckled, taking a step closer. I instinctively scooted back, the cool stone pressing against my spine.

"I know who you are, darling," he continued, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers cascading down my spine. Panic, a cold serpent, coiled itself around my heart. Don't look at him, don't look at him, a mantra echoed in my mind. He's bluffing.

But he didn't stop there. He sank down onto the rooftop ledge beside me, completely ignoring the disdainful glare I shot his way.

"What are you doing here, sweet Y/N?" he cooed, his voice dripping with a false sweetness. "Isn't it a little past your bedtime?"

Denial, a flimsy shield, crumbled in the face of his unwavering gaze. "I'm not Y/N," I stammered, a desperate attempt at subterfuge that even my own ears recognized as transparent.

A slow smile, devoid of genuine amusement, stretched across his masked face. "Such a shame," he drawled,The way his eyes, though obscured by the mask, seemed to gleam with perverse enjoyment sent a tremor of unease through me.

Panic, a cold hand constricting my throat, threatened to erupt. "What do you want?" I blurted, my voice barely above a choked whisper.

He feigned surprise, raising his hands in a theatrical display of innocence. "Merely indulging in a bit of curiosity," he purred, his tone dripping with saccharine sweetness."What brings the Ravenclaw princess to this clandestine gathering?"

Ravenclaw princess? A flicker of confusion momentarily pierced the fog of fear. Was that what they were calling me?

"I told you, I'm not her," I insisted, defiance flickering in my voice. Yet, a new question gnawed at me. Who was this masked figure? A sliver of recognition tugged at the edges of my memory, a feeling that his eyes, obscured as they were, held a strange familiarity.

Determined not to reveal my identity, I turned away, my gaze seeking solace in the cool serenity of the moon. "I won't tell you who I am," I declared, my voice regaining a semblance of control.

"Oh?" he countered, a playful smirk evident in the way his voice rose at the end.

"Fine, I'll just descend and inform those… formidable gentlemen guarding the entrance about the unidentified young lady gracing the rooftop with her presence."

Panic, a primal urge, surged through me. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands.

"No! Please, don't do that!" The words tumbled out in a torrent, a desperate plea born of fear.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a jolt through me. "Relax, darling," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle as he captured my hands in his.

"You won’t tell them , would you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He shook his head, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips."If I wanted to expose you, I would have done so already. I was messing with you "

"Alright," I mumbled, staring at our hands intertwined. "Can you release my wrists now?"

He held my gaze for a moment, a playful glint in his masked eyes. "Why, darling? They seem perfectly content nestled in mine." A smirk danced on his lips as he finally released his grip. My hands felt strangely empty without the warmth of his touch.

My cheeks burned. The playful endearment shouldn't have sent a spark of warmth through me, especially coming from a stranger.

"So, you won't reveal your name," he stated, more an observation than a question.

I shook my head, a mix of defiance and fear swirling within me.

"Fine," he murmured, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. However, his tone suggested otherwise. This wasn't over.

Desperate to shift the focus, I blurted, "Who are you?"

He chuckled softly. "You can't hide your identity and expect the same courtesy, darling."

Darling …. this word again , sent a jolt through me. Why did it sound so...pleasant coming from him?

"But," he continued, a playful glint in his eyes, "we can play a game, wouldn't you agree?"

I hesitated. The entire situation felt precarious, yet a strange sense of intrigue battled with my apprehension. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, I conceded, "okay ."

A triumphant grin spread across his face. "Good girl ," he said, his voice dripping with a hint of satisfaction. "The rules are simple: we ask each other questions, and truthful answers are mandatory."

A knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach. This was a bad idea, a terribly bad idea. Yet, before I could voice my second thoughts, I found myself nodding in agreement.

"good ," he murmured, his amusement evident even in the darkness. "You can ask first."

I wracked my brain for a safe question, something that wouldn't reveal too much about myself. Finally, I settled on, "What house are you in?"

He smiled, a genuine one this time. "An easy one to start with. Ravenclaw, at your service."

Surprise washed over me. We were from the same house? Could it be someone I knew? A classmate, perhaps?

"Your turn," I reminded him

"Do you have a crush on our Regulus?" he inquired, the question laced with a hint of amusement.

My cheeks burned anew. "Of course not!" I spluttered, indignation coloring my voice. "Regulus is my best friend. We practically grew up together."

Immediately, I regretted my outburst. It had been a stupid mistake, revealing too much about myself and confirming his suspicions.

He merely chuckled, the sound devoid of genuine humor. "Easy, darling," he soothed, the endearment sending shivers down my spine. "It was just a question."

"A pointless one," I muttered, trying to regain my composure. My mind raced, searching for a way to deflect suspicion. "Are you a good student?"

"The smartest ," he declared with unwavering confidence.

I scoffed playfully. "Reg is the smartest one," I stated, defending my friend with a touch of pride.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is he?"

"Definitely," I confirmed, a pang of something akin to longing tugging at my heart I wanted to say reg and a certain someone else with beautiful eyes and messy hair who I try not to think so much about right now

He smirked, his gaze locking onto mine. "What are you thinking about, darling? You're blushing again."

"Is that a question?" I stammered, desperately trying to appear nonchalant.

"Indeed," he replied, his voice firm. "And remember, honesty is key."

Panic clawed at my throat. Why was everything so difficult? How did I always manage to get myself into such precarious situations?

"I was thinking about... my actual crush," I blurted out, the confession tumbling from my lips before I could stop myself.

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a curiosity that both terrified and intrigued me. "Yeah ? , and who might that lucky guy be?"

"That's not your turn to ask” I declared, surprised at my own boldness. A small spark of defiance flickered within me.

"very well ," he responded easily, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Your turn then, darling. Let's hear your question."

"Do you know Barty Crouch?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, a sound both familiar and unsettling. "Certainly, I do."

Thankfully, he hadn't inquired about my reason for asking.

"Your turn," I said

His gaze, intense and unreadable behind the mask, held mine for a beat too long. "Why are you cloaking yourself in secrecy? And I don't simply refer to this clandestine rooftop rendezvou , why are you hiding ."

"I'm not…" I stammered, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "I'm not hiding."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his features. "One might argue otherwise. You blend into the background, a shadow amongst your friends. You downplay your own brilliance, mentioning Regulus's intellect but conveniently neglecting your own place amongst Hogwarts' finest minds."

I remained speechless, a truth I hadn't even acknowledged myself starkly laid bare before me. No one had ever taken an interest in the quiet, observant girl I was.

The mask did little to hide the intensity of his gaze. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken understanding. Finally, I confessed, a weight lifting from my chest as the words tumbled out.

"I don't think I have anything interesting to offer. It's simpler to fade into the background. That's why I followed Reg today. Even though we're friends, they all see me ….. so innocent to handle such talks I wanted to prove something, to show them there's more to me than meets the eye."

Exhaling a shaky breath, I realized the truth in my own words. This wasn't just about Regulus or a forbidden gathering. It was about yearning to be seen, to be acknowledged for who I truly was.

A surge of defiance, quickly extinguished by the realization of my exposed identity, prompted a flippant question. With a brittle smile, I challenged, "my turn. When was your first official date?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "Does having sex in the storage room count as a date?"

Heat flooded my cheeks, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "No, God, no!" I exclaimed, horrified by the image his words conjured.

"Ah, so minus the sex then," he interjected, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "In that case, I can't say there have been any."

Desperate to escape the awkward territory of his past, I blurted out, "Your turn."

His lips curved into a knowing smile. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, the touch sending a jolt through me. "So, it's Barty, is it?"

Panic seized me. "What?" My voice barely escaped my lips.

"Your actual crush , Y/N," he continued, his voice a husky murmur. "Is it Barty?"

I cursed my own body's reaction as a blush crept up my neck. Breathlessly, I managed, "My turn."

"Certainly," he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. "Will you tell him?"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "Fear not, darling. Your secret's safe with me."

My breath hitched. We were impossibly close now, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His fingers lingered on my jawline, sending a spark of awareness igniting within me.

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now," he began, his finger tracing the outline of my lower lip, "are those lips as innocent as they seem?"

A shiver ran down my spine as his touch lingered. My eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan threatening to escape my lips. His words sent a blush scorching my cheeks. Did he think I was… inexperienced?

Shamefacedly, I nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

He brushed a feather-light kiss against my jaw, his touch sending shivers cascading down my arms. I inhaled sharply, my eyes still closed.

"And if I kissed you," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine, "would you let me ?"

My head swayed, mesmerized by his closeness. I found myself nodding again, feeling a complete loss of control.

And then, his lips were on mine. Soft and warm, they moved against mine in a slow, intoxicating dance. His hands found their way to my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he was starved for my touch.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes searching mine, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Then, he was back, the kiss this time filled with a raw hunger.

We broke apart, gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other. The world spun, the only reality is the warmth of his body pressed against mine.

"Y/N," a voice split the moment .

I ripped myself away, panic and shame flooding my cheeks , I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Regulus stood frozen in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. The weight of embarrassment settled on my chest, suffocating me.

"Reg, I—" I stammered, but he cut me off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Crouch?" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger.

My gaze darted between them, finally settled to the boy beside me, only to find him smirking.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had just kissed Barty Crouch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr imagine #barty x regulus #regulus black x reader #regulus black imagine #regulus black #regulus black x y/n #fluff imagines #slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #masterlist #the maruaders #harry potter

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.

a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.

flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky.

high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. but there's a softness to him when he's alone, you’ve come to learn; something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.

no one except for you, anyhow.

(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)

the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes.

tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.

it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which.

and a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.

(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)

something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.

”man, it’s cold.”

gojo looks displeased.

only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.

a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue.

gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”

an unimpressed look smooths over your features. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.

it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two.

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one.

(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)

so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.

the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of drift glass — mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors, or so you’ve heard.

you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.

a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little.

in truth, you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's kind of hard; when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —

stiff?

or maybe more like bored.

he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.

(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for others to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.

still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)

deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think. just a little would be fine.

”i like the sea.”

you turn your head.

gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.

a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”

”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”

a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.

”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”

you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you cast his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.

but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.

”… end?”

and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”

a second passes. you look forward.

what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries.

something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your heart feels heavy, an anchor sunk to the bottom of your gut. little fish nipping at your ribcage.

your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again. the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea, right in front of you. like it could open its maw and devour the world.

you think of the lost sailors.

(one jump and it’s all over.)

a breath. salty on your tongue. ”… i guess i get it,” you whisper. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist.

silence.

out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.

(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)

but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…

”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”

you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.

”… nah, that’s fine.”

a pause.

gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes.

”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.

…

all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place.

then he puffs out a breath — amused.

”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.

”you’ll warm me up, no?”

the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request.

the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.

a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft.

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.

he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.

(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)

it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.

gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

”well, duh.”

when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.

he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away.

almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those irises.

(and maybe it does.)

he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. it makes you laugh, either way.

”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now?

”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.

but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found. and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet; an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath. the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue.

a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.

”maybe next time,” you whisper.

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate.

satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same.

almost.

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)

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pokedashwarrior55 · 6 months

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I gotta ramble about Showtimeshipping and Digital Circus for a hot minute before this thought disappears into the Void forever.

I just LOVE the potential of a Caine/Pomni dynamic in a one sided disaster ship kinda way. I see alot of shippers like making Caine the romantic one. Whether its Showtime or Royalshipping it seems Caine is boisterous and loud, therefore he's the haughty romantic. But he is afraid of Moon's advances, "Let's get outta here before the Moon get's frisky!". He's also an AI made for a children's point and click adventure carnival game by a cooperation in the early 2000s. Gooseworks has stated at Glitch con that he lacks alot of human emotions. I see no reason he would be outwardly romantic in the slightest other than his overenergetic and passionate personality.

I find it more hilarious if Pomni, the anxious and probably overlooked in her past life girl that she is, emotionally latched onto Caine in some way or another. Either from his personality being everything she wished she could be, bold and confident, simply seeing him as a powerful being that is the last remaining hope she has of returning to who she was, or a lighthearted Stockholm syndrome emotional dependency I dont' know. Maybe it's simply she found his voice attractive and spiraled from there. Pomni becomes angry that she's attracted to this floating teeth with eyes and just screams. Jax catches onto her little infatuation very easily and makes fun of her without outing her, making it a back and forth with them.

Caine eventually realizes his new player is unhappy and becoming increasingly unhinged very quickly. He doesn't want another intrusive abstraction, especially since she just got here, so he begins spending more time with Pomni trying to get her to chill. His purpose is to entertain and provide a fun escape from daily stress, so seeing a player as stressed as Pomni is tugs at his sensors. He needs her to be as accustomed to the world as everyone else is. If not he failed as a video game and failed is own programing. It's his duty to ensure she is comfortable and having fun.

So now Caine is hyper vigilant of Pomni's life and emotions. He takes her on adventures just for her to cheer her up, just the two of them. This is to ensure the quest is specific to her, that others aren't at risk to make her spiral further, and that he has full attention on her so he can assure her it is a painless and harmless quest, since he can always fix her or get rid of an issue if it becomes too much. All of it was just meant as a safety procedure, but Pomni sees it as coming on to her with his eagerness to spend all this alone time together. Human perceptions see it as a date, which is not even a thought for Caine. She's still jumpy and nervous and touches him alot. Like alot alot, which Caine thinks is her telling him she's lonley of course! So he gets her gifts to make her feel like she belongs and that she has things to keep her saine. Off course, this all interpreted by Pomni in a Human relationship lense and the attention deepens the hole Pomni has now dug for herself.

Eventually Caine rambles his frustrations about Pomni's behavoir and how no matter what he tries he can't seem to make her happy here to Bubble, who repeats some of his words to the cast that is mostley gone ignored, except for Jax (who already knew) and Ragatha, who finally understood what was happening and feels bad for them both. Pomni is struggling with a crush on a probably dangerous and confused AI while said AI is getting flirted with by a Human and is driving himself mad trying to decipher her strive. She steps up to actually let Caine know what he is missing and this is when true Showtime would start, with Caine realizing he does enjoy helping Pomni and Pomni coming to terms with her emotions instead of just screaming at herself for having them. From there they can have a cute, if mostly aromantic, fluffy friendship that almost borders on dating, but never quite gets there with Caine's limitations.

She's feeling claustrophobic from the tent one day and he generates a small area for her to explore stressfree to take her mind away from that feeling of being trapped. He talks about having creations both from Jax saying, "is this another one of your NPCs?" and Caine saying, "You know how I don't like people seeing my unfinished work" so he is a learning AI that enjoys creating and seems somewhat artistic, despite his limitations and bluntness. He enjoys helping her feel at home, despite the circumstances and Pomni grows more comfortable with herself by his radiating confidence, yet they can both be equally frantic and chaotic if the scene needs it. It's both a timid/bold dynamic and a chaos duo and I love it.

Ok that's my showtime HC dump byeeeeeeeee

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rxgirlie · 3 months

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The Verdict

(Sneak Peek)

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

A/N: okay, so, I have eleven chapters written so far but a lot of editing to do for this whole sha-bang. Here’s a cute little snippet for the Hot Lawyer Army. I told a white lie when I said the whole work in its entirety would be posted this week. (I am literally hot out of a writing work shop and legitimately whipped out a thesaurus and dictionary for this bad boy, like, who am I?)

In the quiet isolation where the Maleski family had sought refuge from the world, the tragic fall of Samuel Maleski unfolded into a legal and emotional labyrinth. Vincent Renzi, armed with the facts and facing the daunting task of defending Sandra, found himself navigating a case where the line between truth and perception blurred with every revelation.

Sandra, with her resolve wavering under the weight of public scrutiny, recounted the harrowing details to Vincent. Their conversations, often fraught with tension, revealed the complexities of her marriage to Samuel—a relationship marred by jealousy, ambition, and the tragic accident that had left their son, Daniel, blind.

As the case progressed, the absence of witnesses in their secluded life became a double-edged sword. Daniel's discovery of his father's fall, with no eyes to witness the tragedy and only the cold silence of the snow as his guide, painted a poignant picture of a family unraveled by misfortune.

During a brief respite from the intensity of legal preparations, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing for the first time.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left an indelible mark. For Leah, the case had transformed from a professional challenge into a personal crusade, not just for justice, but for understanding the complex tapestry of human relationships that the law so often sought to untangle.

And for Sandra, the encounter with Leah—a woman as out of place in the snow as a black cat, yet standing her ground—offered a flicker of hope. In the face of overwhelming odds, perhaps there were still those willing to look beyond the surface, to see the truth hidden in the shadows.

————————————————————————

As Vincent navigated the winding roads back to Paris, the fading light of the Alpine sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Beside him, Leah sat wrapped in thought, the case of Sandra Maleski haunting her mind. The silence between them was comfortable, reflective of the trust and understanding that had developed over the course of their investigation.

Vincent broke the silence first, his voice steady against the hum of the engine. "Today was... revealing. Sandra's story, Daniel's perspective—it's like we're peeling back layers of truth hidden beneath layers of pain."

Leah nodded, turning to look at him. "It's more than just a legal battle; it's a fight for a family's soul. What struck me was Sandra's resilience, her ability to stand strong in the face of everything crumbling around her."

The conversation shifted naturally, as if the case had opened a door to more personal reflections. "You know," Vincent began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "working on cases like these, it makes me wonder about the choices we make... the lives we lead outside the courtroom."

Leah caught the introspective tone in his voice, sensing an invitation into a part of Vincent's world that had remained closed off. "I've been thinking about that too. Back in New York, my life was all about the next case, the next win. But being here, working with you—it's made me realize there's so much more to life than just winning cases."

Vincent glanced at Leah, her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. "And yet, here you are, far from home, diving headfirst into a complex case in a foreign country. What drove you to take this leap?"

Leah smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Adventure? Escape? Maybe a bit of both. I guess I was looking for something different... something meaningful. And I've found it, not just in the case, but in the connections we've made... with Sandra, with Daniel, and with you."

The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to the journey they had shared. Vincent felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of kinship with Leah that went beyond professional respect. "You know, Leah, I've spent so much of my life focused on the law, on being the best lawyer I can be. But meeting you, seeing your passion, your empathy... it's reminded me that being a great lawyer is also about understanding the human heart."

As the lights of Paris began to twinkle in the distance, marking their return to the city's vibrant energy, Vincent and Leah found themselves at a crossroads. The case that had brought them together was also quietly weaving their lives into shared experiences and newfound discoveries.

"Whatever happens with the case," Leah said, her gaze fixed on the approaching cityscape, "I'm grateful for this journey. For the chance to make a difference and for the friendship we've built along the way."

Vincent nodded, the city's familiar streets welcoming them back. "And I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he added with a smile, acknowledging Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected luck it had brought into his life.

As they drove into the heart of Paris, the case awaiting them, Vincent and Leah knew they were no longer just colleagues. They were allies in the pursuit of justice, bound by the shared belief that beyond the legal battles lay the stories of real people, deserving of empathy, understanding, and a chance at redemption.

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi fic #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x original female character #hot lawyer save me #hot lawyer anon #anatomy of a fall #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi fanfiction

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leahrintarou · 7 months

Text

🎃 Iwaizumi Hajime - Nipple Play

Warnings: afab!reader, fem bodied reader, and they were roommates :o, nipple stimulation ofc, slight begging, wearing his clothes, teasing, makeout (a lil bit lol), soft!dom iwaizumi. Word Count: 2.6k (..i lost perception of time...)

"oh shit-" y/n groaned after realizing the circumstances of her current situation. She'd just gotten out of the shower but failed to remember that it was currently laundry day. With that being said, majority of her comfortable clothes were in the wash or damp and waiting for its cycle in the dryer. Securely wrapping her bath towel around her body, she sighed, taking a look in the mirror to contemplate her limited options which were; A: stay in the towel and lock herself in her room until the dryer's cycle was over, B: drag on the articles of clothing that were so uncomfortable that they hadn't been worn on months, or C: ask her roommate for his clothing and wear that for the time being.

Right now, neither of them sounded appropriate to her liking, but for her own sake of comfort, she decided to go with the latter. "hajime!" She called from the bathroom, peaking her head out from the crack of its ajar opening. She heard the sound of his sturdy and approaching steps, making her sigh with some sort of relief. "you okay?" He questioned, finally standing in front of the door, examining the situation. "yeah..i was wondering if my clothes were done drying?" She asked, a sigh falling form her lips when he mumbled a small "no. not yet."

"well, until they're done, can I borrow a shirt and some bottoms?"

He smiled, a quiet laugh following after. "need underwear too?" y/n gave him a harmless glare as he pivoted on his heels to make his way to his room. "nope. I've got plenty of those" she rolled her eyes when he said a quick. "..course you do" under his breath as he disappeared into his bedroom that was down the hallway. y/n pulled herself back into the bathroom before impatiently tapping against the sink to pass time. The heat received from her partially-scorching shower was finally starting to wear off, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of her skin from the chilled air.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when a knock was heard against the door. She fully opened it, taking a step out before taking the neatly folded clothing out of iwaizumi's offering hold. "let me know if you want something different. Those might be too-" he was cut off when y/n spoke hastily. "it's fine, thanks haji" she gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded, eye's glancing down for a quick second before he looked back up to her face. "hey-" she scolded, playfully pushing his chest, making him take a step back.

"you towel's loosening" he grinned, making his way to the living room while y/n glanced down at where she'd tuck the corner of her towel withing it's tightened wrap. It was practically hanging on by a thread and she was lucky that when it almost dropped, he'd already turned around. It was then when y/n realized that he left her to her own privacy for the sake of avoiding embarrassment for both parties. She hurried to her room, closing the door behind herself as she tugged the t-shirt over her head. She went over to her drawer, taking out a pair of underwear and pulling them up her legs before following them with the sweatpants that iwaizumi lent her.

It was the pair that he wore often and was seemingly his favorite. y/n must've had special privileges tonight. The scent that were threaded through the soft fabric was comforting and has she pushed her arms through the empty holes of the shirt, she pulled on the hem of it before making her way to her door. She realized that she hadn't put on a bra and this was normal since it was late and she was winding down but usually her clothes would actually fit her perfectly. His however, hung loosely, especially in the front area of her chest. The fabric grazed the sensitive buds on her chest and her eye's widened slightly.

She didn’t want to bother her roommate for a different shirt especially after she'd declined his invitation that she was more than welcome to get something different from his closet. Shaking her head as if to rid the thoughts quickly, she opened her door and made her way to the living room to see that iwaizumi was sitting on the sofa as his gaze lingered on the tv in which was displaying a movie. His eyes traveled to her figure and he couldn't seem to break his attention to anything else. y/n made her way over to his figure before taking a seat next to him.

She snuggled under the throw blanket, getting close to his body for warmth. "thanks again" she smiled, looking over as he returned her gaze. They were a bit closer than the either of them anticipated so when he replied with a small "don't mention it." The warmth of his words fanned against her lips. She quickly turned her head away with a nod before forcing herself to keep her eye's on the tv. He lifted his hips slightly to readjust his positioning to slouch a bit more. y/n felt his warmth slightly disappear so in desperation, she made up her mind and rested her head on top of his own. "what are you doing?" He laughed but didn’t move.

"I'm cold."

He sat up correctly and motioned for her to lay her head on his chest instead. He readjusted the blanket to fully cover her body and she let out a sigh when the loose t-shirt grazed her chest once again. It caught her off guard, therefore she didn’t prepare herself to restrain against the sensitivity. Her body shuddered and iwaizumi leaned over to see if she way okay. "what's wrong?" He questioned, making her look up at his face of concern. "n-nothing. I'm fine." She replied, pinching the fabric of the shirt to pull it away from her chest.

"oh, do you want a different shirt?" He noticed this action of hers and y/n shook her head. She'd probably have to explain her problem with the shirt so iwaizumi could be able to give her one that would prevent her discomfort, so she decided to avoid that situation by all means. He didn’t reply, but decided to not push it any further. He mindlessly slung his arm around her shoulders and his hand hovered over her chest, but not close enough for contact. They fell into a small silence and due to the comfort, iwaizumi began to relax.

Relaxing just enough for his arm to go a bit limp and so did his hand. His fingertips finally grazed the sensitive bud and the quietest whimper fell from y/n's lips as she scrunched the fabric of the blanket in her fist. "oh shit, I didn’t mean to-"

"can you do that..again..?"

iwaizumi froze in place, looking down at the side of y/n's face and the top of her head as she mumbled the request. "what are you talking about?" He questioned, panic rising in his chest. "please, haji?"

he sighed. "are you sure?" He questioned, looking down at her as she turned to face his stomach and she nodded with pleading eyes, looking up at his own. Y/n guided her hand to his own, bringing him to palm one of her breast through the shirt. He was amused when she flinched from the touch, despite her already knowing that it was about to happen. "you're that sensitive?" She frowned at his teasing tone, breaking their gaze to look elsewhere.

"shut up, I can't help it."

Iwaizumi used his freehand to cup her cheek and redirect her eyes to fall back upon his features. "do you want me to touch you?" He questioned, voice softer now and y/n realized that he was serious. She contemplated whether to say yes or not, after all they'd only been roommates for six months, but still grew close as if they'd been roommates for six years. She knew she needed this more than ever since they last time she engaged in any romantically intimate moment with anyone was two months ago when she was tipsy and hooked up with one of the guys from her art class.

Finally thinking it through, she nodded and allowed her hand to fall from his own since he palmed her breast with his other hand. He was teasing her and it was driving her crazy. Allowing his hand to fall from her chest slowly as he made his way to grip her waist, iwaizumi motioned for her to straddle him instead and she did so with a swift movement of her body. He smiled at her eagerness before using a hand to sneak under her shirt and the other hand to lift it from the hem. y/n shivered as the cool air hit her torso and then finally brushed over her chest.

Iwaizumi's warmth from his hand made contact witch her breast in a firm palm and she leaned into his touch, back arching ever so slightly when she let out a satisfied hum. "to think that my clothes caused you to get so worked up is beyond me-"

"hajime" she whined when he spoke since it was occupying the time of what could be happening. "but," he smiled, placing a chase kiss to her sternum as he looked up at her pleasured expression. "I'm glad it happened" his actions of affection were gentle yet firm, cold yet his touch was filled with warmth, and lust filled yet his composure was held in place and didn’t look like it'll be moving any time soon. His tongue licked at her soft skin, making her moan when it traveled to her nipple.

He lapped his tongue around the area, making sure to leave the actual bud and where she was most sensitive; untouched. He looked up at her, pulling back as he aided her in removing the shirt completely. Although he loved seeing her in his clothes, it was doing more harm than good at the moment. The shirt was discarded to the floor and iwaizumi returned to his previous acts. "you're so pretty like this, sweetheart."

He shifted his hand, using his thumb to pad over her nipple which made her let out a whimper. "stop teasing, haji" she groaned, reaching for his wrist to stop his movements completely. "but, I wanna see how much you can handle 'til you break" his voice dropped an octave and y/n's hand faltered to grip the fabric of his shirt when his tongue finally made contact with her bare nipple, licking a warm stripe against the skin and y/n jolted at the sensation. "do you think you can cum if I keep doing this?" His breath was warm, heating the dampened area of her breast.

"t-that’s not possible hajime." her words faltered when he repeated the action once more. "you wanna bet?" He smiled, the malicious intents practically reflecting in his dilated pupils. She moaned at the pinch felt as he used his teeth to gently bite the sensitive bud of her chest. "w-wait-"

He disregarded her calls of lenience and used his tongue to his content. Swirling laps around her bud before finally giving her some relief and giving attention to where she was most sensitive. Using his other hand to grope at her other breast, he still didn’t provide her with much mercy and y/n became a whimpering mess in his hold. She felt as if she was melting and turning into putty the longer the pleasure lasted. He felt how she made attempts to grind down onto his thigh, but he would stop her movements in an instant before following with something along the lines of. "we made a bet. You're gonna cum just by this-" and would follow his words with a merciless tongue to her sensitive skin.

y/n's body would jolt every once in a while when he'd pinch her other nipple in-between his thumb and index finger. He'd get a kick out of it every time she'd let out a whine, throwing her head back in pleasure. It was probably one of the first time's that someone has ever taken her oversensitive nipples into so much thought and consideration. There'd be a small segment for foreplay, but not actually making it the main source of pleasure that would bring her to her approaching high.

And speaking of approaching high, y/n didn’t want to admit it, but the pleasure was in fact building up and if iwaizumi hadn't pulled away from her breast just a second early, she would've been feeling her climax right about now. But he knew her, and he knew her well. She almost hated it, yet she loved it. "oh, what was that just now, sweetheart? Were you about to do the so called 'impossible'?" he says, reusing her usage of words just to tease her. "okay fine, you win, but don’t stop again." she said with a tone of desperation and it almost sounded like begging which peaked Iwaizumi's curiosity.

"that sounds a bit demanding of you. Ask nicely and I'll think about it." he smiled when y/n gave his a barely manageable glare. Her eyes were heavy and the only think stopping her from dozing off was the feeling that she's been awaiting for what seemed like hours now. "don’t do this to me, haji" y/n's voice was filled with what sounded like defeat and strangely enough, iwaizumi felt all the more excited. "you," he started, reaching for y/n's hand. "don't do this to me." He guided her to palm his lap and that’s when y/n felt his growing erection that was starting to become uncomfortable for him.

"I didn’t do that" she protested, keeping her palm against the area even after he removed his hand from her own. "so who's been trying to grind against me for the past couple of minutes?" y/n shut her eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed on how he remembered every detail of what occurred earlier in the night and currently. "haji, I wanna cum already-"

"I know you do sweetheart, but I want you to do one thing for me for that to happen." he placed a kiss to her chest and then her neck, soon following with her jaw. She sighed, locking eye contact with him, a pout on her lips when she knew there wasn’t any other way out of this. "please, I need you to make me cum, hajime and I want you to use your mouth to do it." she mumbled, voice in a soft whisper and to hide her embarrassment, she leaned down to place a kiss to his lips and it led to a small exchange of each other's saliva as their tongues toyed with one another.

He pulled back, smiling as he readjusted her on his lap, pulling her closer so she was sitting directly atop his growing erection. He let out a groan from the pleasure filled pressure before speaking. "see? That's all you had to do for me." y/n let out an annoyed hum but it was soon drawn out into a moan when he latched his lips around her once abandoned nipple. he used his tongue to lap in all different directions, the pleasure enticing sounds of y/n driving him to do all but holdback. "h-haji-" she moaned with a studder as the pleasure went straight to her core.

The buildup had finally hit its breaking point within y/n and a whine of overbearing yet satisfying pleasure erupted from her throat while hajime continued his movements to ground her back to him. She panted, chest heavying and pressing into his features as it did so. He parted from her, letting out a sigh as y/n leaned down to place a kiss to his lips and then hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"Sit-up, sweetheart. We still have one more thing to take care of and I'm sure you're feeling a little bit empty right now."

I apologize for the late upload, but all of these chapters are late bc i missed an entire WEEK, but we don't speak about that :D

however, i hope you enjoyed! tysm for reading. reblogs and notes are very much appreciated! ily all <3 take care!

taglist: @meowmeowmau @jiwooahae @sunaemoby @diana7was7here @msbyomimi @chocoweird0 @riiceandsoup @issllaaa

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webanglikethat · 4 months

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On Gabe. (TW // abuse)

as a victim of abuse myself, everyone complaining that Gabe is not ''abusive enough'' makes me so enraged. just because we don't see sally limping with a black eye while blood is rushing down her face, it does not mean she's not abused. it's important to recognize that abuse can manifest in various forms, including emotional, psychological, verbal, and financial abuse and even more. it is not always visible or easily identifiable. abuse leaves scars that aren't always visible to the naked eye. stop pretending it is always black and white.

he is financially abusive: he is unemployed and seemingly devoid of any inclination towards responsibility. he shamelessly exploits Sally's hard-earned money and so, her efforts to secure a stable financial future for herself and Percy are callously disregarded as Gabe channels those funds into a destructive vortex of gambling.

he is verbally abusive to Percy: he always belittles him, undermining his self-esteem and sense of worth. Percy is barely twelve, living in a world that was not crafted for him, and he is trying to come to terms with that and there is Gabe, taking advantage of that. the psychological impact of Gabe's actions goes beyond mere verbal jabs; it seeps into the very fabric of Percy's self-concept. if you want to believe it or not.

he is okay with physical abuse: when Percy mentions he got kicked out for ´´assaulting a girl´´, instead of the expected concern or guidance everyone would expect, Gabe's response is a simple yet chilling "okay," delivered with an almost impressed and approving tone. rather than condemning the use of physical force, Gabe's indifferent response suggests that he too would be okay with it and that perhaps, Percy's house isn't the safe place he thought it would be. (which we know is true, if you have read the books)

he is mentally abusive: HE answered Sally’s phone and spoke to the principal at Yancy. Gabe, ever the puppeteer, attempted to extend his influence by seeking to control not only the household dynamics but also the very upbringing of Sally's son.

coercive control: in this scenario, Gabe is exerting control over the family's mobility by dictating access to the car. by making Sally negotiate, Gabe is asserting dominance and creating an environment where Sally feels compelled to seek his permission for everyday activities.

and I cannot believe that twelve year old Percy saw the red flags before some of you all -- who are grown adults -- did. Percy's recognition of the subtle manipulation tactics employed by Gabe showcase the emotional intelligence and observational skills that children can only develop when navigating difficult circumstances (shoutout to my psychology class).

so you know what? I think TV shows need more representation like this. the portrayal of Gabe as an abuser who initially appears harmless and quite stupid aligns with the reality of many abusive relationships because contrary to popular perceptions, abuse doesn't always manifest in blatant physical aggression or explicit threats. more often than not, it takes on subtler forms, such as psychological, emotional, or financial manipulation (as I already mentioned). and I am so proud that the show chose this narrative path because it sheds light on the less-discussed aspects of abuse. in my opinion, the show proves to be a valuable resource by deviating from conventional tropes in its portrayal. victims often hesitate to seek help when their experiences deviate from the expected narrative, and bystanders may struggle to recognize the more subtle aspects of abuse, perpetuating a culture of silence and impunity for abusers. so good job to the percy jackson directors, you got my respect. <3

#percy jackson #percy jackson series #JB is thinking about pjo #pjo series #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackson disney+#gabe ugliano #sally jackson #pjo discussion #tw abuse #narcissistic abuse

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perkqularkreashions · 6 months

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Take the Black |Sandor X Reader|

Part One: Unconditional

I know this doesn't follow the plot exactly, but just roll with it. So, I had some suggestions from mutuals to lowkey make it a Jamie X Reader for her survival... What y'all think?

WARNINGS: unwarranted affection [kissing without consent], Jamie projecting his trauma on the reader, mentions of murder, murder [Ned Stark], SMUT [wrap it up!], Joffrey being Joffrey

AS ALWAYS CHECK YOUR TRIGGERS.

You hated the fresh smell of the air, the cool wind wrapping around you softly, brushing against your exposed skin. You spent many days in the library running your fingers against the spines of the books, taking hold of one in secret as you shoved them into your sack. Books that you read underneath the moonlight, books that only slightly drove your mind away from the King's landing, your father, your sisters, and Sandor. You missed your home, the chilled walls of Winterfell dragging you in as you roamed through, your fingers intertwined with Theon’s in secret, your head resting against his shoulder as he spoke of nonsense. You would just listen; you missed the simplicity of life, and now everything seems muddled with confusion and Lannisters.

You gasped as you felt a hand wrapped against your upper arm, tugging you away from another book that would soon be a part of your collection. Your eyes followed the man; Ser Jamie stood tall before you. The brightness of his hair reflected in the illuminating sun, his hair mimicking gold. His touch softens in the realization of who you are. His lips play in a soft smile as he watches you, taking in your soft, doe-like features—the surprise written on your face, the paleness of your face, and the claminess of your hands. “So you’re our book thief. For months, you have evaded all the guards.” Jamie was impressed; it was a harmless crime and brought no real attention to the drunken King’s radar. He slurred out a command and had Eddard follow up on the missing books. “Intelligent little wolf,” Jamie hummed in thought; he let out, causing you to stumble back; you hadn’t realized that you had placed all your weight against him.

You reminded him of Cersei in her youth, not physically but mentally, the way you chewed on your lips when in deep thought. The way you studied people intently before answering. But you weren’t like Cersei, were you? You were kinder and spoke with a gentleness when you spoke with him. Maybe he was attracted to the thought of you possibly being Cersei. Jamie thought about you often; maybe he was projecting his traumatizing relationship with Cersei onto your budding relationship. Jamie sighed for a moment, deep in thought.

Your voice broke him out, “Just…a little entertainment for myself these days. The castle grows boring,” Jamie hummed, his fingers dancing along the book's spine. The words slightly faded, and the book would crumble at the touch. The pages are a brittle brown color.

“Entertainment in the decrepit ?” he raised his brow, watching you closely. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and you clutched the book tighter against your stomach, your hands strumming against your sides, the anxiety cementing in your stomach as you nodded. “I see.” Jamie didn’t take his eyes off you, examining all your features, the strongness of your brow, the silverness of your eyes, the darkness of your hair, and your slim face. You reminded him of Eddard, Bran, and even Jon. Despite your femininity, you were a spitting image of your father; no trace of your mother itched its way on your face. His hand gently grabbed a strand of hair, pushing it away from your face, his thumb tracing against your cheek to the tip of your chin. You were boyish and lanky but held a certain beauty. “Tell me, wolf, what amuses you then?”

“The cold,” you quickly responded; Jamie let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, something that he hadn’t felt in so long. It was unusual for someone not to find something that piqued their interest in the King’s Landing, whoring, welding, swordsmanship, ladyship, or lordship. Sansa wanted to be a princess, Arya wanted to be a swordsman, more or less, and yet you had no place in King’s Landing. “I miss my pup; surely Robb knows nothing of Luan,” Jamie hummed once more as he watched you closely.

“I see,” silence washed over you both; it was comfortable. You bowed gently, trying to walk past him. He grabs your arm, “Be careful, little wolf, it’s dangerous here at night.” His grab loosened, allowing you to walk away, stuffing the book in your sack. You walked back to your room, your thoughts muddled with the handsome knight, his tall brow, and the subtleness of his lips. He was more gentle than you remember him to be. You recall your passing moments with the knight at Winterfell, rarely staying for the festivities but always within reach from Cersei if needed. Your eyes stumbled ahead, watching the maidens move around you, whispering gently before returning to their task. The knights march about, hands placed on their swords for comfort.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

As the days stumbled into night, you had seen less of your father and sisters; you’d been confined in your room, your nose nuzzled in a book. You were carefully absorbing every word, noun, verb, and sentence. Slamming your book shut, your eyes flickered to the door. You sat against Sandor’s chest; he had been sleeping for the past couple of hours—he spent his stolen spare time with you in flights of passing moments, reading a book, fucking, or simply lying together on the terrace. His snores lightly salting the air as he adjusted against you. You had started to read the novel to him, but he cursed, waving his hand about in proclamation. “Aye, I would’ve stayed with the Imp if I wanted to hear someone read.”

“Tyrion.” you corrected as you passed a glance out the side of your eye. He scoffed, rolling his eyes for a moment. “His name is Tyrion.”

Sandor fixed himself against you once more, taking his hand and wrapping it against your waist, tugging you closer, his lips close to your ears, breathing out gently. Shivering, you relaxed against him. He didn’t say anything, though you knew he would make some idiotic remark about you correcting him on another man sooner rather than later. Arya made her way closer as she hesitantly stepped in. She calls out your name softly before shouting it more confidently.

“Out here,” you finally responded, Arya's face drained of color as she rushed to you. Her hands shakingly moved to your wrist, yanking you into a hug. You could feel her tremble against you as she silently whispered your name. “Arya, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, they took Dad away. Sansa… I don’t know– something is going on,” she whispered; you nodded, unsure of what to make of this information or how to react. You needed to find Sansa. You pulled her away, your eyes watching over her. You whispered, “Go pack your things, stay calm and easy.” Hesitantly, she nodded, your hands resting against her shoulder as she moved away. Sandor grabbed your arm, his face filled with worry, tightening his grip as he tugged you closer. He slammed his lips against yours, which you now take as his way of kissing. You flinched as your teeth bagged against your gums, and you poked your lips drastically, allowing his deformed ones to mold into yours. He pulled away, your bodies still close, as he looked down at you. “You find the girl, and you come back here. If there is any trouble, you come back here. Aye?” You nodded.

Now, you set out to find Sansa. You held your head high as you moved through the corridors, eying everyone who passed without saying a word. Her door was guarded; you watched the men for a moment; their eyes remained forward as they watched those who passed.

You gasped softly as you felt a hand grab at yours, yanking you back into a secluded corner. Your chest slammed against your chest as your body was pressed against the chilling wall. Your eyes fell against the Lannister Knight, who eyed you suspiciously—a soft smile toying on his lips. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, something you didn’t know you could feel when next to a Lannister. “What is going on?” was all you could whisper out, your hands trembling as you reached for his elbow. “Where is my father… why are there guards outside of my sister’s chambers?” He stared at you, nothing being spoken between the two, your breath smacking against the air as your chest heaved with each passing moment.

“He is going to die.” You felt lightheaded; you could feel yourself falling and slipping as your grip tightened against him. His hand wrapped against your waist, keeping you as you rested against him.

“Take me to him,” you begged, your voice barely escaping. “Please,” Jamie didn’t like to admit, but you reminded him of an innocent Cersei if she ever was to be. The softness of your voice, your gentle touch, the way your lips parted when you spoke, and the way your eyes held so much and yet so little emotion. Jamie moved away from you, keeping his hand on your waist as he nodded. He moved away from you, and you quickly followed behind him; the more you traveled, the colder it began. The darkness surrounded you every few feet; the torches would burn bright until they dimmed behind you. You stayed close to the knight, praying he would protect you if anything unsavory happened. You entered a long, narrowing hallway, one torch placed directly beside the stoned cell and one small window in the uppermost corner of the dungeon. Jamie’s head motions, and you follow, moving slightly as you dip your head slightly to look closely into the cells.

You paused, seeing a man hunched on a bed of straw; his head pressed against the stone wall as he sucked in a deep breath. His face was only slightly revealed by the torch.

“Father!” you whispered, stumbling to the ground as he grabbed your hands. His face sunken in as he pressed his head against yours, thankful. “Are you—what is going on?” His eyes weakly moved to Jamie, holding his gaze as Jamie watched over you for a moment. Before moving his attention ahead of him, his hand gripping the sword’s pommel, shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath. He knew you had a few moments before someone would catch you in here; he was not afraid of the consequences for himself; just the thought of being at odds with Cersei was motivating enough not to be down here. Your hand gently rubbed at your father’s face, trembling at the sight. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do nothing.” He spoke, his voice calm and confident. “Keep your sisters safe; know I always love you, my wild wolf.” He pulls away, sinking into the darkness. You felt Jamie’s hand on your upper arms, tugging you up gently. You were stunned, your eyes widening as you gently shook your head. Your mouth gaping open, your throat swelling emotions as your mouth soon became dry. You didn’t have anything to say; you wanted to scream at him– you wanted the truth about why he was here. You found yourself on your feet, leaning against Jamie as he escorted you out of the holding cell, the fresh air overwhelming you, and bile soon rose in your throat. You swallowed thickly before snatching yourself away from him.

“You will be the safest with your sister; for the moment, she has Joffrey’s favor,” Jamie spoke behind you, his voice muddled in the daze that rushed over your mind, the haze that clouded you. You spun around, eyes low and drained of emotion. Jamie was stunned, his mouth slightly gaped open as he watched you. He quickly recovered, shutting his mouth as he tried to find the right words. He hated–no loathed Eddard Stark, they contrasted–their values and beliefs vastly differed. Eddard knew from Jamie felt like the deepest part of him had been unearthed, and he dishonored him. Jamie grew frustrated. You finally look at him, taking him in. Your lips never said a word, but your eyes spoke for you. He felt vulnerable, the only kind that he felt with Cersei; she stripped him bare and made him feel worthless but loved. He grabbed your shoulders, yanking you closer to him as he pressed his lips harshly against yours.

You remained frozen, eyes widening as you watched him, the harshness of his breath fanning against your upper lip. His hands tighten around your shoulders, bringing you closer. Jamie pulled back; his chest riled with emotions as he watched you closely, taking in your features—the redness of your cheeks to the salvia dripping on your bottom lip. You were the second woman he had kissed other than Cersei; he stumbled back, the emotions weighing on him. “Accept my sincerest apologies,” Jamie mumbled. You nodded, unsure of what to say or how to feel.

Now, you both walked silently, your hands resting in front of you as he escorted you to Jamie’s room. Eyes washing over you both, taking in the scene. You felt his hand gently grab your arm as you reached Sansa’s chambers. “Stay safe, Lady Stark.”

𓃥𓃦𓃨

Here you sat confined with Sansa, Lilly, and Jeyne Poole; the girls' faces were puffy from crying. You watched as Sansa stumbled to button the dresses. Sansa begged and pleaded with everyone who came into the room, face flushing with emotions as she begged to speak with the Queen and Joffrey. “Please, Please, I need to speak with the Queen! Prince Joffrey! It is important! She will want to see me! I know it!” You groaned as they flushed out of the room, leaving you with a sobbing Jeyne, a frantic Sansa, and an aggressive Lilly. Sansa looked at you, eyes full of despair and desperation. She tugged on her bottom lip, tears streaming down her face. She wept, colliding with her older sister.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled against her head. “Well, see father soon and gone from this hellish place.” she nodded against your bosoms, not genuinely believing your words… and neither did you. Night fell upon Kings Landing quickly; you grew irritated with the weeping of Jeyne and Sansa. She stirred in her sleep, mumbling of Joffrey. She cuddled into your side, smiling gently at the comfort she hadn’t felt since she had been there. She wanted so badly to be back home with her mother, brothers, and sisters back in the coldness of Winterfell. You finally could lull yourself asleep, dreaming of home and Sandor.

Ser Boros burst through the doors, awakening the girls with fright. You stared at him, taking in his features. He was a short man with broad shoulders and stubby legs. His hair was grey and thinning. Sansa greeted him with a smile, bowing gently as she approached him. “You look handsome this morning, Ser Boros.” You stood behind her, watching the knight flush at the compliment before escorting them back to the Queen. You admitted you were nervous to see her; you hated being in her presence. It was heavy and full of darkness. You sucked on your bottom for a moment chewing off the dead skin. Finally arriving at the royal chambers, you watched Cersai at the head of the table.

Ser Boros bowed, “I brought the girls.” Your heart rushed excitedly as you could climb through your throat, yet you remained stoic. Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Lord Varys were dressed in black at the table. So the king is dead.

Cersai grew a smile on her lips; you thought of it as feigned and full of mischievous. The smile did reach her eyes. “Sansa. My sweet girl.” Sansa smiled in pleasure; she watched the Queen; she thought it was the sweetest smile she had seen. “I do apologize for not seeing you sooner; things have been unsettling–I trust my people have taken care of you…both.” her eyes flicker to you as you stand still, soaking in her words.

Sansa said politely, bowing. “Thank you for asking; everyone has been pleasant.” Their attention turns to you, waiting for you to sing the praises of her gracious treatment. You remained emotionless, eyes glaring at Cersei. The conversation droned on, Sansa frantic in concern for the steward girl and her father. You hated the feeling that her anxiety gave you.

“Sit down,” Cersei finally pronounced, patting a chair directly to her left. “ I want to talk to both of you.’ You stayed where you were, not being able to move your feet as you felt dread course through your body. Cersei’s eyes flickered to yours, a harsh expression taking hold of her face before softening. Cersei’s attention turned back to Sansa, who was laying a soft hand on her wrist and speaking.

“I do hope you know I love you, and so does Joffrey.” Her eyes lit up, her positioning straightening as she leaned closer to her, grasping every word.

“You do!” The queen nods as she continues spinning gold yarn for Sansa. Her words are calculated and precise, knowing what exactly to say to manipulate the young Stark. You knew Cersei was a witch, something never to be trifled with. Her power and presence weighed more than Robert’s. Her actions were cunning, meticulous, and precise with her words—also ten steps ahead of everyone else.

“Your father is a traitor,” Vary’s words cut through your thoughts as you tried breathing, your fingers clenching at your side as you pushed out shallow and sharp breaths. “He is a traitor to the crown; he has besmirched the name of King Joffrey. Claiming that he is not the rightful heir to the throne.” You became dizzy and faint, wanting to reach the table and grasp on it. They were going to kill him; that is why he was in the cell, decaying as he awaited punishment. Jamie knew that’s why he took you to see him—one last time. You were also warned of the dangers of speaking against the Lannisters, constantly wary of making one wrong move in front of them. They watched the weak but always preyed on the strong. You swallowed thickly, watching them continue.

“I am not like Arya.” Sansa blurted, capturing your attention, “She is of traitor’s blood! I am good. Obedient! I only want to serve Joffrey, to be loyal to the throne and him!” Cersei wickedly smiled, watching you for a moment; Baelish and Vary's attention was now on you. You straighten your posture, tightening your trembling lip as you observe them.

“What of you? Mm? Little wolf?” Baelish questioned, his eyes running down your body. You wanted to cower away in fear, run into her father’s arm, and wish him to protect you. But you were grown– a woman now. You hand to stand on your own. “You look like your father, dark and brooding. Dark wild hair like your father. Eyes as hard as a stone, just like your fathers’, Unlike your sister, who is a spitting image of Cat when she was her age. You are the twin of the proclaimed “King of the North.” He continues; you watched the Grand Maester tug at his beard in thought. You remained silent, unable to form any words. Sansa tried to speak for you, Cersei shushing, comforting her in the thought that she needn’t speak more. “Are you of traitor’s blood?”

“I wish to see my father.” Was all you muster out, yet your voice was stern and commanding. Baelish stared at you for a moment, chuckling at the sight. “If he is what you call a traitor, then I wish to know for myself.”

“Do you not believe me?” Cersei begins, and Sansa shakes her head rapidly.

“That’s not what she’s-”

“No, I don’t, and I would like to hear it from my father,” You commanded, sternly looking at her, watching her cat-like eyes churn with an unrecognizable emotion. She sat back, turning her attention back to Sansa.

“No. You will not. Is that understood?” Cersei commanded, her posture straightened and her eyes a dancing sage color. You found no words, found nothing to object to her decree. You stood there emotionless. With no further acknowledgment, you looked down, fighting back the tears and the rage that built-in you. “If you don’t trust my word, what are you to trust?”

“The devil, preferably,” you whispered as you sucked in a deep breath, masking your words as her eyes snapped towards you.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

Months have passed, and Jamie has only taken to see your father two more times. You begged him to help you free him—to speak with Joffrey and Cersei, but he remained silent. You marveled at your efforts but knew that they were futile. He would confess his sins and take the black. Cersei had soon caught on to this, whispering of Lady Stark and Jamie Lannister. Anger pitted in her stomach as she assigned one of her ladies to gather intel. She was never too far from you, her eyes catching every glance at Jamie and turning at you. The whispers in secluded corners, your hands grabbing at his, pulling him close. Jamie never pulled away, sinking into your warmness. He knew that you were using him, just as Cersei was. But you were different…sincere. But soon Jamie left, taking all the chances of Ned escaping with him; he was off to fight the war against your twin, Robb. You prayed that Jamie would day at the hands of your brother, his sword taking his life as he looks up for his last moments. He wouldn’t see his family, but he would see Robb and prayerfully see you.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

You were excited for this day, for your father to take the black and your sisters to escape back to Winterfell. You wrote to Robb secretly, updating him on the little things in the code; you sent a trusted guard from Winterfell who rode with you. Soon, those letters would stop as the Royal Guard intercepted them; Cersei would drag you into the throne room, her hands holding the letters in fury. Her lips pursed in anger as she watched you, waiting for you to tell the truth. She waited for you to repent and beg for forgiveness just as Sansa did, but she knew you weren’t like Sansa. You were silent and studied the room before speaking; your brows furrowed in thought before relaxing. It was hard to read you; it was hard for anyone to read you. Cersei knew punishing you would damage what had been damaged, so she dismissed you, keeping her guards around you at all hours of the day and night, ensuring that you were not planning a coup of her authority.

You snapped back to reality; you stared at the bell as it toweled, echoing through your body, signaling you to follow the crowd; you wandered, pushing through as emptiness settled in your stomach. Your eyes landed on your father. He was dressed in a rich grey-colored doublet with a white woven on his shoulder. He was thinner, his face sunken in and eyes shrouded with darkness, given that it had been roughly three months since you had seen your figure as much. All he had to do was confess; he would spared. Your heart filled with terror as he spoke confidently, his words carrying into the wind. Sansa whimpered as they shouted obscenities and taunted him. He would take the Black and be reunited with Jon; he would be alive, and you would be rid of this place. He would take the black.

“My mother… bids me to let Lord Eddard take the black! Sansa begs for her father’s life. That delectable wolf, Lady Stark, has offered no sentiments on her father’s behalf, just silence. Strong and just that one, not pleading like these women. They have soft hearts. As long as I am your king, no treason will go unpunished, Ser Illyn, bring me his head!” You pushed through, your hand pulling and tugging as you drowned in the crowd. You screamed for Father, “Please! No!” You could feel your knees growing weak as you pushed through the crowd, the man’s longsword glistening. Your chest aching and soon caught his eyes. He smiled, his lips mumbled, and you couldn’t catch it.

You felt someone yank at you, “Here, you!” your vision was clouded in darkness. You screamed, yanking yourself away from the familiar comfort. “Don’t look, little wolf, don’t look,” You sobbed hysterically as you felt him grab your body, tugging you away from the crowd. You hissed in discomfort, watching Sandor, his face full of grief and worry. “Aye, I thought something happened to you! I thought something- I couldn’t find you. For months, they kept you locked away from me.” He grabs your face harshly, bringing your attention to his. “You are alright!”

You sob, tears blurring your vision, and your mouth gaped open as you tried calming yourself down. “Please, tell me–” Sandor brought you close, wrapping his arms around you, letting your sobs rattle through his chest. He didn’t speak much of your father’s death; he dragged you away from the screaming mob, the roar of the crowd, the profanities that hung from their lips.

Sandor returned you to your chambers; you moved through the empty halls. You felt nothing; you could feel nothing. You wanted to cry, but it pained you even to blink. You flopped on your bed, and your body spread erratically across the perfectly made duvet. It was a soft red color decorated with gold flowers, and you hated the color and the scent of warmness it gave. You missed the frigid air of Winterfell, the thick blankets that pilled on your bed, and the dullness that surrounded you. The colors overwhelmed you, and the people overwhelmed you. You felt Sandor tuck you, gently stroking your hair out of your face and leaving you with the Lannister appointment maidens. Gripping one of the women by her dress, he dragged her close. She yelped, startled by his aggression. “If anything happens to her, I will kill all of you.”

It has been days since anyone has seen you; Sansa grew worried as the maidens wouldn’t allow anyone into your chambers other than the King and his appointment men; Joffrey was worried that you were of traitor’s blood and wished for you to be confined to the four walls of your room against his better judgment. He wanted to behead you and send you to Robb, but Cersei had commanded against it. You were to only speak with Lannister appointment maidens, to be escorted by Ser Meryn and, on occasion, Ser Clegane. Joffrey, to much dismay from his mother, grew fond of you; he sat in your chambers, speaking of how he was going to behead your brothers and offer to you as gifts; accepting this gift would be the only way that you would genuinely be renounced as a traitor. In fear, you agreed softly, nodding along to every sick and psychopathic demand. He enjoys your presence; you say so little, unlike Sansa, who seems to say the wrong things, and his mother, who thinks she is now the King. You were more enjoyable than Sansa. He entered your room, now guarded by knights; his eyes scanned your chamber. Nothing had been touched or moved since the last visit. That was two weeks ago after showing Sansa the head of her traitor father. You didn’t move, but you knew it was Joffrey; he was the only person who came to see you. Your eyes shifted to him as he made his way around your bed. You mumbled out, shifting in the bed slightly, “Your Grace.”

Lilly bowed gently as Joffrey as he walked away, a smirk resting on his lips. He knew that you recognized his rightful claim to the throne. He knew you were more intelligent than his sister; most importantly, you were Robb’s twin sister. A great show of dominance was fucking his twin sister; he needed to bed you. Get you pregnant; be his mistress. He knew you bleed; he asked the maids to check, and your moonly cycle had just ended. His hand holding the sword's pommel, his eyes scanning over you. “Please make yourself presentable. Once completed, one of the knights will escort you to the throne room. I wish to speak with you.” He walked away, stopping for a moment. Anger was building inside of him as he waited for a response.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” He heard you shifting in the bed, and with a smile, he was gone.

You were dressed in a backless black dress, exposing your perky bosoms; despite the rancid looks, you still mourned for your father; embroidered on the right collar was a wolf that Lilly had stitched to all of the gowns given to you by the Lannisters. You thank the maidens before moving with Ser Meryn to the throne room. You said nothing, acknowledged no one.

You bowed gently at Joffrey, his eyes stalking your body, taking in the sight of your breasts, arms, and face. At his side, Sansa. Her eyes widened, and her lips trembled as she straightened her posture; she missed your touch's warmth and the gentleness of your words. She felt she betrayed you; she didn’t have time to think after the Father’s death; she just wanted to survive.

“I want you to bear my children, rightful thrones to the heir!” he announced. You said nothing; you continued gazing at Sansa, praying that she was alright and praying to the Old Gods that the light cast shadows on her face instead of the bruises. Your hands clenched at your side as you watched her flinch at each movement made by Joffrey. “To fuck the traitorous blood out of you! Send the babes’s head to your brother, maybe send yours, force him to bend the knee, and submit to me.”

You simply answered, “No.” His face sunk, his eyes widened as his lips tightened, and his jaw clenched in frustration. You heard the footsteps of the knight, his armor rattling against each other. You watched Meryn, his decrepit face glaring into you.

“Meryn,” he called out, his hand waved in his direction.

You felt a hand glide across your face, your head snapping from the force; he struck you repeatedly. You remained still as the knight was instructed to hit you again if you didn’t accept his offer; Joffrey grew frustrated at your resilience. You felt blood dripping from your eyes, burning, blinding your vision. “You lay another hand on her, and I kill you.” you heard a knife unsheathing or maybe his longsword. Joffrey cackled; it settled in the throne room. You felt the uneasiness of the air and how it settled in your bones uncomfortably.

“You want to protect this bitch! Your bitch! You know… I should make you fuck her, fuck the beast until you bear his litter of pups.” Joffrey tossed his hands in the sky, a wicked smile grew on his lips. “Why don’t we feast? A wedding between a wolf and a dog! You want her to fucking bad, have her! Make litters of animals. I’ll behead them and you. We will send them to your traitor brother,” he spits, his cackles once more as he claps his hands in excitement like a child. You squeezed your eyes closed, your face searing in pain; you heard him pushing past Meryn and Clegane, his hand grabbing my chin as he brought it closer to my face. ‘What do you say, wolf? Mm? Want to marry this ugly mutt?” You stared at him, disdain dripping from your lips as you tightened them. His Lannister eyes dull into you; for a moment, you are frightened but realize he was just a little boy playing King. He was a sadistic little boy. You retracted your thoughts, fearing that he might be able to hear them. You didn’t speak; you didn’t acknowledge him. Only turning your head out his hand.

“This can all go away, and you don’t have to marry this ugly dog if you bear my children. Don’t you want to prove that you aren’t a traitor to be loyal to the rightful King,” he whispers into your ear, feeling your trembling skin with his finger. You calmly replied, remaining solid in your ass. He hisses in dismay, tossing your head back, causing you to stumble around. Sandor’s gently grabbed at your back. “A perfect alliance! You two mutts belong together! Soon, your head-”

“Enough!” you heard Cersei call out, her voice commanding the silence, causing Joffrey to stumble back. His face widened, and for a moment, you saw a child being reprimanded by his mother, a child who needs to be punished. His face grew slightly red, his lips tightening with embarrassment.

Cersei dismissed you. Walking away, you rushed out of the throne as you felt the emotions run through; you wanted to cry, you could feel the tears building in your throat, and yet nothing. Numbness washed over you as you mindlessly moved back to your chambers… You needed to get out of here. You let yourself stumble into your chambers, greeted by Lilly, the only thing that reminded you of home. You collided with her, remaining silent as you listened to the constant beat of her heart. “It’s a’ght, M’lady,” she murmured. You flinched at the sound of the door; you could feel his presence filling the room. Lilly released you, bowing to Clegane as she stumbled out of the room. You didn’t dare move; you didn’t want to look at or think about him.

His voice was strong, “Let me see you.” You obeyed, turning your gaze to him. You noticed he had a grey-ish clothe in his hand. In one stride was in front of you, dapping your face gently. You never thought he could be this gentle with you. His thumb caresses your chin as he huffs angrily, his face contorted slightly, causing his lip to twitch. He was in deep thought and wanted to kill Joffrey, behead him just as he did your father. He wanted to prove to you that he was not his loyal dog. “Stupid girl, why didn’t you marry him,” He cuffs your bruised face, bringing you closer to him. “Why didn’ya accept the offer?”

“Sandor,” you mumbled weakly, his name bringing joy to his ears. You didn’t have an answer, nor did you want to provide him with one. You simply let yourself rest against him, feeling the cold sting of his armor. It was nothing like the chilling sensation of the North, but it brought you a sense of comfort. Sandor sat stiffly, allowing you to rest against him.

“You’re a stupid girl,” he whispers. “My stupid girl.” His lips pushed against your head, mumbling insults to you.

𓃥𓃦𓃨

It was Joffrey’s nameday; you grew tired of the insipid celebration of the arrogant and cruel King. Your body leaned against the railing, the calm winds blowing against you as you were in deep thought. You could hear Lilly calling out for your name, but you ignored her, knowing that it must’ve been Joffrey who once again offered his seed to you and offered you an out for the marriage with Sandor. His hand would grab at your throat, snatching you closer to him before pushing you against the wall. His other hand yanked your hair down, and you croaked as you clawed against his hand. Your whimpers barely escape your throat. Soon, as he grew tired of your squirming, he let go, watching you gasp helplessly. Your body fell limp to the ground as you clutched the dress that pooled at your feet. This became routine for the last couple of weeks, but you were hoping on his nameday, he would leave you be.

You peered over your shoulder, seeing Sandor aggressively march into the room, his eyes capturing yours; a small smile rode on his lips. You returned your attention ahead of you, taking in the pastures of green and the ant-like bodies walking about. Everyone and Everything was loud in celebration of King Joffrey. You could feel his gaze on you; it was heavy and needy. Roughly, his armor fell against the floor, clanging and being kicked to the side. He could him slightly cursing and fumbling to move closer to you. You relaxed against him, feeling his warmth against your backside. “I need you.” You could feel him stiffen against you, his hand roughly grabbed at your waist. “I miss you…I’ve missed you for some time now.” You grind yourself gently against him, your ass grazing the tip of his throbbing cock. “I just—I want you inside of me.”

“You don’t know what you are asking for.” he hums, his hands tightening on your waist as he guides your movements slightly. His hands roughly yanked at the back of your dress, exposing you, his fingers gently caressing your ass before moving to your opening. You hiss as he drags his thick finger over your wetness, his finger tracing at your glistening pearl before inserting his finger; you gasp, grabbing at the rails as you let yourself fall against it. He was rough and sloppy, thrusting in an erratic pattern before slowly retracting his finger. You hum in pleasure, your stomach churning with the familiar euphoric sensation as he pounds his finger into you; Sandor is growing impatient. He wanted to fuck you, to make you scream out his name for all to hear. His cock ached and pulsated as he watched your leaking cunt, dripping his fingers against the cement. Irrationally, he became jealous of the bugs that would taste you and the air that kisses you. He admires your soft kitten-like moans, how they purr against his ear gently, the soft meows of his name as he rams his finger into you. You quickly turn to face him, startling him for a moment. His finger was slipping out of you–your face flushed with color as your chest heaved harshly. The material tightened against your chest before retracting as you watched Sandor. Sandor turns away in disgust of himself; your hands inched to his face, tugging at him.

Slowly, he returns his attention to you. His eyes glared at you. Quickly, he grabs at you, pulling you off of your feet; you gasp as you feel your back pressed against the cool brick. Quickly, your legs around him, steadying yourself as you watched him fumble with the ties that held up his trousers. You watched him, your eyes taking the scars that riddled his face and the solemn look that marked his lip. His face grew in frustration; he shut his eyes briefly, insecurity shattering him as he tried not to think about your judging eyes. You heed his direction, shutting your eyes as you watch the darkness that clouded you. You flinched at his unexpected softness, his fingers touching your face and lips. His hands move to your thighs, squeezing at your flesh as his hands move to your ass. You could feel the pressure building inside of you as you felt the tip of his cock rest against your entrance, pocking and sliding against your wetness.

The air is stolen from her as Sandor’s hips meet yours. Your eyes flickered open as you moaned loudly, your hands wrapping against his neck as you lazily pulled him closer to you. He stumbled closer to you, your breath mingling as Sandor’s head rested against your clavicle. He gently gnawed at you, his lips gliding against your skin before resting against your neck. Rapidly, he thrust inside of you, your heat tightening around him as you moaned out his name, the pace of this thrust was ruthless as he cursed at you, using his grip on your hips to yank you further down on his throbbing and needy cock. He pulls away from your neck as he watches you chant his name over and over. “Sandor, Sandor–oh Sandor, Please—Sandor.”

He stops, taking the time to watch you squirm underneath his touch. His nose brushes against your cheek as he kisses it; quickly, you turn your head to face him. He watched your eyes slowly prying open as your doe-like eyes overtook him. Your face contorted in pleasure as he continued to thrust into you. Your fingers danced back to his cheeks, cuffing them in admiration. You slam your lips against him, tasting the bitter wine on his tongue. Your tongue dipped into his mouth, gathering everything before sliding back into your own; you moaned against him while his hips picked up in pace, the slaps echoing into the air as you cried out a moan on his lips. You pull back as a slew of words fall from your lips. “All mine, you’re all mine,” he growls through his runts and your rants, his words falling upon deaf ears as you call out his name through your orgasm. His dick twitches inside of you; he could feel himself approaching his high, his seed jutting out as you whine out his name. Your cunt clenches against him as you feel his cum flooding inside of you, his hips still moving at the painstakingly harsh pace, fucking himself through his orgasm as he pushes himself against you. He retracts slightly, letting his cock slide out, exposed to the cool air. He rams himself deeper inside of you, shoving his seed into you. “You take me so well, little wolf.”

You felt him pick up pace, his jerked against you, his head resting against you as he grunted out your name. Soon, all of his seed was slammed into you, dripping around his cock and your soaking cunt. He pulls back swiftly, his eyes watching as silence veiled over you. Your mouth parted as you tried catching your breath, your hands lazily cuffing his neck as your thumb stroked his jawline. You peeked at his lips, still feeling his cock twitch inside of you. “I missed you.” You repeated, the words lazily falling off your tongue. Sandor had no words; he couldn’t think around you. You left him in a state of wanting—needing more. He pulls himself out of you, causing you to take intake quickly. You weren’t like the whores that he paid to fuck, the needy and whining pleas as he rammed his cock into them, their eyes squeezed tight when laying on their backs. He recalls one time, paying the woman handsomely to moan out his name; she nodded shyly, her eyes never meeting his face that she did, her voice coarse and full of emotion. “Sandor Sandor Sandor—- you fuck me so good, your cock fills me so well.” He hated it, the way her auburn hair bounced, the way her hands grabbed at his chest, the way her teets moved about as she bounced on him, the way her mouth horridly gaped open as she screamed out his name, and everything that falls out of her mouth was scripted and unreal. She came undone, jumping off his lap and taking his manhood into her mouth, soaking up all his seed as she smiled brightly. With a grunt, he pushed her off, irritated by her presence. For months, it went on as such, endless whores that never pleased him.

He regretted it every time, especially the nights he came to you, gentle with your words and touch. You lay with him, letting your hands caress him. You were patient with him, understanding his anger and outbursts; he never understood it and loathed the feeling that rose when he thought everything was feigned and a part of his imagination.

Here he stands, watching you glistening in the sweet sun’s rays, your skin dewy as you happily watched him. Your touch gentle, your words pure. He never felt like this with any woman. Insecurity knocked into him, and he turned away from you, allowing your feet to slap against the ground. He was once again towing over you. He gathers himself, leaving you alone. You adjusted yourself in your garment; his seed was sticky against your cunt and uppermost inner thighs. You pushed your hands across your face, returning to your chamber as you removed your clothing, readying yourself for today’s affairs.

#imagines #imagine #smut #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane imagines #sandor clegane #jamie lannister x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader

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sc0tters · 8 months

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The Best Favour Yet | Owen Power

summary: Kent asks Owen to help you settle in when you move to Buffalo, that favour ends up being the reason for some of your favourite memories with the love of your life.

request: yes/no

warnings: some allusions to sex.

word count: 2.1k

authors note: this request made me laugh because it literally said Owen dating Kent’s sister and all the chaos that would entail. Started writing this as a regular oneshot but I hated it so I’ve just made it a 5+1.

Kent never planned on this.

When he asked Owen to keep an eye on you once you got accepted at Buffalo State University. Kent never once let the thought of you falling for one of his best friends.

1. ❝he’s like totally harmless.❞

to PowPow 🔫: thanks for checking in with y/n I appreciate it

to y/n 👾: remember Owen is like totally harmless!

You were nervous to meet the boy, sure you had spoken to Owen in person before but it was never by yourself. Usually Kent was around for those moments as he didn’t want to let any of the guys think that they could have the chance to make a move on you.

Once they reached sophomore year you were merely just a name to them though as you were going to university in Florida.

A year of that was more than enough and you had transferred to Buffalo for your sophomore year.

But as the cold Buffalo breeze chilled your face as you clutched the sides of your jacket you began to lose hope “y/n!” Owen called out as he recognised your stature from anywhere.

Owen would never admit it but he did have the tiniest of crushes on you that he felt in his freshman year the first time he met you “hi Owen.” You smiled as you spun around to face him.

You looked up at him as he gave you a hug “I’ve got a few different restaurants in mine so whatever you-” the hockey player began to ramble as he didn’t realise that his nerves were showing.

It took you giving his hand a squeeze for him to calm down “you’re the local, I trust you Owen.” You nodded as you sent him a serious look to show that you were down for anything.

And that night you laughed so hard your stomach hurt and you even managed to make eating pizza look good because Owen looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

2. ❝you’re a sabres fan now,❞

You had to say that you were surprised that it took Owen three weeks before he invited you to a Sabres game. Every time the game was in Buffalo you’d watch from your dorm window as fans lined the road up to the KeyBank Center.

So as you stood in the waiting area with WAGs and other members of the players friends and families you couldn’t help but wish you were back there in the comfort of your dorm.

Sure the people were nice but you weren’t one of them, you were meant to be a simple college kid “you made it!” Owens cheer pulled you out of your thoughts as he wrapped his arms around you.

The older players watched on in amusement as they pieced together why the umich alumni seemed so loved up over the past month “wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you smiled as him still having his skates on meant that you had to tilt your head up further to look at him.

He swore he was on cloud nine when he realised you were wearing the jersey that he had given you just days prior “you like the outfit?” You asked as you did a little spin so he could see your outfit in its whole.

Owen sucked at his teeth as he tried to remain calm seeing Power on your back “you’re a sabres fan now you know that right?” He teased as he had seen all of the Blue Jackets memorabilia from Kent that decorated your side of your dorm.

You shrugged as you ran your fingers through your hair “I’ve been called worse if I’m honest.” You joked causing him to let out a laugh.

A lightbulb seemed to go off above his head “you gotta meet the rest of the boys!” Owen wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into the direction of more of his teammates.

3. ❝too good for this world,❞

On Tuesdays if you had late lectures Owen would pick you up and you’d spend the evening at his. Each time you’d take turns being head chef when it came to making meals.

This particular Tuesday it was your turn and you were making spaghetti bolognaise “Power don’t you dare!” You could see the smirk on his face as he leaned against the counter behind him.

Owen laughed as you continued to watch the pasta boil “I’m not doing anything.” He raised his hands in surrender as he pushed himself off of the counter as he walked over to you.

You scoffed as you shook your head “I can see it in your eyes that there is something up there.” You pointed to his head causing him to smile.

His hands landed on either side of you “are they telling you that I think you’re beautiful?” Owen asked letting his voice act like a gentle hum over the sound boiling pasta water.

Warmth spread over your cheeks as you tried to bury your face in his chest “I’m serious!” He laughed as his hands cupped your cheeks so he could continue to look at him.

Your tongue danced over your teeth “why me?” You let the question you had been wondering for weeks finally come out.

Owens cold thumb cooled your face as it softly rubbed circles on your cheek “because you’re perfect y/n,” the hockey player hadn’t told you about how he truly felt before.

He sighed when you shook your head “I wish you’d see that you’re too good for this world sweets.” Owen confessed as he let his head drop so that his lips barely hovered over your own.

The air around you went silent “what about dinner?” You statement had to be pushed out of your lips.

It made Owen smirk “I can be done before that pasta is ready.” He proposed as he turned the heat down a setting.

That seemed to be all you needed to carry on “let’s not waste anytime then.” You shrugged before his hand was on your jaw letting him kiss your lips.

4. ❝I’ll count to three,❞

It had been two months since you started dating Owen. Besides for your close friends nobody else knew and that was because you two didn’t know how to tell Kent.

Your brother knew you had a boyfriend because you had been in the process of soft launching your relationship on Instagram, but all of those questions were met with coy answers.

So when the long awaited day came around when the Blue Jackets were playing in Buffalo you knew you had to tell your brother.

But that morning when your mind was full of clouds as you were still half asleep you didn’t think twice when you opened the door to Owens apartment in nothing more than one of his shirts.

Kent on the other hand was shocked to see his sister stood in his friend’s apartment “where is Owen?” He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows.

That was what seemed to wake you up “oh Ken-” you stammered over your words as your eyes widened “babe who is there?” Owen called out from the kitchen.

You couldn’t rack your brain for what to say “it’s Kent!” That seemed to get the right response out of Owen as he came out to the entryway.

The Blue Jackets player really didn’t know what to do “you just called my sister babe?” Kent honestly zoned out once he heard you get that title.

Owen could see the upset look on his friends face “let’s just talk about th-” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “I’ll count to three because I like you.” Kent cut him off as he walked into the apartment.

You let your lips swirl in as your eyes went wide “baby?” Owen looked to you for help as Kent got to one “run and lock a door.” You proposed as your brother got to two.

Part of you watched in amusement as Owen ran to the end of the hall when Kent got to three.

5. ❝wrapped around her finger,❞

Kent loved you, truly you were his little sister that he wanted to protect in bubble wrap. So it wasn’t surprising that it took him four months to be okay with the idea of going on holiday with you and Owen.

That was until your brother was reminded of the fact that you were going to be sleeping in a bed with your boyfriend.

Quickly the relaxing holiday turned into one that he didn’t get sleep in “morning baby,” you smiled as you found your boyfriend stood in the kitchen making coffee.

Owen was quick to swipe away from you “I brushed my teeth,” you pointed out as you smelt your breath wondering if that was the problem “what if he sees?” Owen whined as he still seemed to be scared of Kent’s threats “they are both still sleeping.” You grumbled as you pouted your lips not enjoying the fact that your boyfriend was ignoring you.

That was a sight that Owen truly couldn’t say no to so he placed the coffee mug down on the counter causing you to smile “always getting what I want,” you pointed out.

Owen nodded “my baby got me wrapped around her finger for days.” He never did seem to mind admitting that you just how whipped he was.

Your hands wrapped around his waist “think you should show me that then,” you proposed as just as his lips touched yours Kent had to walk in “I do not need to be made an uncle on this trip please?” He begged as he scrunched his face in disgust even once you had pulled away from Owen.

A laugh left your lips “but wouldn’t we be such cute parents daddy?” You let the words fall out of your mouth like butter.

Both Owen and Kent’s eyes went wide. Of course your boyfriend could see the mischievous look on your face and it clearly meant you were doing this to screw with your brother “you’ve got two seconds to get your hands off of-” Kent didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Owen listened and took two steps away from you.

A frown formed on your face “you’re no fun,” you mumbled as you looked at the Sabres player.

“it’s hard to be when you’re trying to get me killed!

+ 1 ❝what’d you say?❞

The last three years had been a whirlwind, whilst you hadn’t made Kent an uncle just yet you and Owen had your fair share of pregnancy scares that you both agreed were secrets you’d take to your grave.

With each day that went by you found yourself falling deeper in love with him. You had the house, the pets, and the love so there was only really two things left on that checklist.

Bless Owen for being clueless but you spent the last three months trying to hint at the wedding ring you liked but that seemed to just fall on deaf ears.

So now you took matters into your own hands as you watched him get ready for boys night “baby,” you sang as you were sat on your bed watching him pick an outfit for tonight.

Owen continued looking through his clothes as he smiled “yes?” He asked wondering what it was that you wanted to ask him “I want to marry you.” You announced as you swung your legs against the frame of your bed.

You had truly never seen him stop what he was doing that fast before “what’d you say?” Owen looked like he had seen a ghost as he walked over to you.

It made you confused “just said I wanted to marry you.” You shrugged as you watched him lean over to his bedside table drawer as he pulled out a velvet box “was gonna ask you this weekend.” He pointed out as he revealed what looked like the ring of your dreams.

A gasp left your lips “you were?” You knew he was taking you on a mini trip to Canada so that you two could go stay in the mountains for a week as it was the start of the off season.

He nodded as he sat next to you “pretty sure I can take this as a yes then?” Owen joked as he placed a kiss to your temple seeing the tears form in your eyes.

You smiled as you let out a sniffle “don’t get it twisted I asked first!”

#owen power #Owen power imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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soupsandwich64 · 9 months

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(COD men reactions to seeing a spider. And bees?)

(Note: I have entomophobia so this was written from a place of professional interest at best, in regards to the spiders well beings)

----

Ghost: if its like a itty bitty spider, he doesn't care but will probably swipe/pinch it away like a normal person. If its like a house spider, he'll probably kill it and dispose of it just because it may make him feel like his house is dirty, and also just cause its not meant to be there. For a big spider, he'll probably take a picture of it and then move away if its outdoors but will probably kill it immediately with great ease if its indoors. In a relationship, he is the Bug Catcher. (The person who kills the offending bugs) he is more of a killer rather than a catch and releaser. Doesn't pay particular mind to bees.

Soap: if its a tiny spider, he'll probably watch it crawl around. Will probably brush it off anyway out of habit. A house spider will shock him a little if its alive but he'll quickly dispose of it (will probably get outsmarted by the spider.) a dead house spider will make him feel guilty about not cleaning his house enough to avoid a dead spider. If a big spider is in his house he'll yelp a little but he will probably ultimately be the one to kill it. Is easily persuaded to catch and release, he doesn't care either way. Definitely notices bees if they're around but doesn't mind.

Gaz: probably had an intense interest in bugs as a kid but it died out later in life so now he's just left with a large, albeit hazy, knowledge of bugs (or at least the ones he thought were cool as a kid) and a general feeling of "Oh, neat" when he sees a spider. I take it he doesn't really like things like cicadas or crickets, but is definitely intrigued when seeing the occasional banana spider or praying mantis. He's a catch and release if he can help it, but he doesn't really care if he kills him. This goes for pretty much all ranges of spiders (will kill harmful spiders, on sight). Doesn't mind bees or wasps cuz bro has definitely had his share of stings.

Price: he does not like spiders. He will kill them. And then put down house spray. Not a big fan of bugs in general, but more out of disinterest. Doesn't have time for catch and release unless someone (you) begs him to. Doesn't mind bees.

Konig: doesn't like bugs, kills spiders on sight if they're on him or in his house. Enough said. Will move away from bees, despite knowing they're harmless unless provoked.

Alejandro: likes to be the one that kills bugs in a relationship so his girl swoons. Doesn't mind spiders as long as they're not on him or in his house. Definitely the type of person to let a butterfly or bee chill on him, because he's not the type of person who freaks out over them. Can tell the difference between wasps and bees immediately.

Thats all I have energy for right now.

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agent-love-101 · 1 year

Note

could i perhaps request some jack horner x reader headcanons regarding their size difference? 🥴

>:) ask and you shall receive!!!

Jack Horner x Reader; Size Difference

he most definitely uses it to his advantage.

blocking your way in attempts to bother you, somehow sneaking up on you,

but i can also imagine him sizing you up by comparing you to himself.

like his hands creep onto your shoulders; it almost sends a chill down your spine. his hands practically engulf you.

he could easily overpower you, and he makes sure you know it.

however it does have its perks!

you're especially cute to him.

sometimes he'll brush his hand through your hair, straighten out your clothes, etc.

to him, you're absolutely harmless.

he most definitely sits you on his lap; why waste a seat?

#jack horner #big jack horner #big jack horner x reader #jack horner headcanons #jack horner x reader #big jack horner headcanons #ag's asks #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots

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raainberry · 2 months

Text

Chocolate Heart

« A strong, sweet love. »

Dahyun x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - confessing to your crush on valentines day very rarely goes as planned anyway

wordcount - 3K

T/W - Food, young love, crushes all that good valentine’s stuff, soft cuss word

A/N - shoutout @saiiidahyunee its as long as it took for me to write about Dahyun im so sorry💀

“Congratulations!”

The cheerful word caused you nothing but chills and fright. You blinked at the two class presidents standing before you, grinning as though disturbing your nap was the most fun thing in the world.

“For what?” You mumbled half asleep. Unless you were out for months, it wasn’t your birthday yet. Neither had you accomplished anything worth celebrating.

“For possibly going on a date in the next few weeks!” One of them cheered once more while the other revealed a pen and paper from behind her back.

“What?”

The girl ignored the utter confusion on your face and shoved the pen into your hand before sliding the paper accross the table you were so comfortably napping on a minute ago.

“Do you have a crush?” Her co-president asked, and you could tell his tone went beyond the required professionalism. Just plain nosy.

You sighed as you finally realized what this ambush was about: the whole Valentines Day love campaign your school loved to put up every year in order to help fund whatever was in need.

The concept itself was fun and harmless: class presidents chasing their classmates down the halls, offering to confess to your crush for you in exchange of a couple bucks.

Deal of the year for a lot of high-schoolers, and it wasn’t even done badly. The whole thing was cute; a fresh, red rose they delivered anonymously on your behalf on D-Day. While they filled the school’s pockets, you got to see your crush smile at least once thanks to you. To a young teenager foolishly in love, the sight was priceless.

Even if you drew the shortest end of the deal—a.k.a your crush not giving a damn—they’d never know who it was from anyway. Saved you a lot of embarrassment, which in all honesty was just as priceless.

“No, I don’t have a crush.” You answered him, and the way his features noticeably fell was particularly satisfying.

“Do you now? Don’t you think we’re a little too old not to notice these things?” The girl wiped the small smirk off your lips and you blinked. “We’ve been in the same classroom all week for four years, we’ve seen the way you treat the new girl.”

The seat suddenly felt uncomfortable underneath your legs. “What does that even mean—I don’t treat her any different than I do you guys.” You chuckled, nerves unfortunately too clear for the guy not to revive his own hope.

“Sure you don’t.” The girl smiled, the pull at her lips borderline fake. “But you haven’t walked any of us home yet, have you?”

You shifted in your seat once more. “We happen to live in the same neighborhood. If you’re jealous just say that.”

The girl’s smile seemed to falter for a second, dropping only to stretch itself wider and brighter than before. You caught her clutching the small stack of paper tighter against her chest, causing you to knit your eyebrows together.

You weren’t oblivious. At least not more than she claimed herself to be. You had your fair share of secret admirers across the years, a few roses sent your way; but it was no secret that you never pulled on any of the strings thrown your way by the bravest of them.

“As if.” She shrugged off and you nodded, appreciating how she stuck to her role.

There was never any want nor need on your end. A relationship was never an idea on your mind, but it doesn’t mean you couldn’t and didn’t have a harmless thing for someone here and there.

All unrequited, as per the majority of high-school love, but you managed to find the fun of it. Silly jokes and random eye-contact rushes were satisfying enough.

Until she came along.

“Anyway—”

“So do you like her or not?” The boy cut her off, saving you both from an uncomfortable moment only to send the three of you into a silence of that same nature.

You hoped your lack of answers would get them off your back, but the longer it lasted, the more it proved their suspicions to be right.

You could see the delight on the boy’s features grow as much as the frown on the girl’s. You ignored the latter for as long as it took for her to cover it up before she tapped the paper in front of you.

“It’s our last year.” She spoke up. Her voice was softer than you were used to. It caught you off guard. “You might regret not participating at least once.”

Whatever, you thought, looking down at all the names already written down. Might as well, she won’t know anyway.

You gripped the pen, following your hand as your fingers painted the name of the girl you’d come to care so much about.

Kim Dahyun - Senior Class B

“Here.” You slammed the pen against the table. “Happy?”

“The two dollars.”

You looked up at them and sighed once more.

“Kind of a scam but okay…” You mumbled, reaching into your pockets for the remaining change of your allowance.

The bill was inconvenient. Sure it wasn’t much, but when you’ve been cut off for the next two months because of a silly prank… Might as well say you’d bet your whole fortune on this crush. It sounded cool anyway. Your grandkids would eat this up.

—

Valentine came around quick, and you spent all day watching people receive roses in all corners of the school.

Young love filled the air, time was nothing if not stuck in this carefree atmosphere roaming with still naive and hopeful spirits. As much as you would have liked to be cool about it all, you weren’t an exception. You couldn’t help but wonder whether Dahyun had received hers or not.

Maybe in sixty years you’ll probably laugh at the memory, but in the moment it didn’t feel half as funny.

From eight in the morning, all you could do was stress over whether she’d accept it or not. Would she even like it? If she had, did she smile as brightly as you wanted her to? Had it made her as happy as you hoped? Granted she wouldn’t know who it was from, but you hoped the gesture would actually make her smile. Your heart couldn’t stay still in your chest, eager yet nervous to see her.

You waited all day to see her, looking out at every corner of each room and hallway you walked in for a glimpse of her pretty, dark and long hair, fair skin, and cute nose appreciating whatever scent was left of that cheap flower.

By 4pm, she was still nowhere to be seen. Was she avoiding you? Did she even get that dang flower?

The bell rung the end of your last classes for the day, and you took out your frustrations out on your poor locker. You hadn’t opened its door this aggressively since you got detention for sleeping in class. Something very infuriating in failing at what you usually master.

Whatever, at least you helped the school.

You got your bag off your shoulder, glancing inside the locker for your books only to find… a rose? Had she sent it back to you?

You winced at the thought, the pinch in your heart taking you by surprise.

So this is heartbreak…, you sighed reaching for the flower. If that wasn’t painful enough, one of the thorns poked your finger and you almost laughed at life’s comedic timing.

You watched the small wound on your skin as it reddened slowly. It’ll heal fast enough. Couldn’t say the same for the one in your chest though.

This was the stupidest idea ever, why did you even give in to their pressure…

You wiped your finger on your shirt, a small stain you’d come to regret later but held very little importance in your eyes when a small card fell to the ground.

The book you’d grabbed felt heavier with each second you took to identify where it had come from. The only logical answer was your locker, but how had you not noticed it?

Shoving the homework material in your bag, you bent down to pick it up before closing your locker. Your eyes were glued to the writing on the folded paper, widening as all sense suddenly hit you.

Your name… the careful and precise calligraphy… The rose… It was her.

Maybe she hadn’t given the flower back to you. Or maybe she did, but her gesture meant something entirely different.

Your fingers were hesitant on the card’s edges, grazing and ghosting papercuts as you gathered enough strength and composure to open it.

You pulled out what you had rightly guessed as a letter, handwritten by the cutest of them all. Your eyes were eager at the thought of unveiling her thoughts, brushing past every single one of her words before finding the ones you wanted to see the most.

« I hope you actually like me, Y/n. You’ll regret it if you don’t. »

Okay, maybe this wasn’t the way you’d wanted them, but it was enough to pull a giggle out of you. It was a running joke, it was known across the school how no one should mess with her. Rumors of her song at the talent show being about an ex, those did a great job at spreading the word. Whether or not they were true, her songwriting was good enough of a threat for anyone who might have dared to.

Judging on the speed of your heart alone, she had nothing to worry about in that regard. Her written confession had you a mess, you couldn’t wait to meet her for more.

You wanted to hear her say all those things to you. How she liked your eyes whenever they were on her. How she liked your smile whenever you tried to see hers. How she liked your laugh whenever you tried to hear hers. How she fell for you and could only hope you’d catch her.

You were soon running through the streets, rose in hand as you ran past people, leaving bits and pieces of that love and hope behind for the nosiest of them.

You sprinted to the nearest park, the one you usually parted ways at on your way home from school. Why didn’t she wait for you today? It would have saved you the extra gym class.

“Dahyun!” You yelled, way too loud for the remaining distance separating you from her, but at least you caught her attention.

The way she turned around… You could have tripped at how beautiful it all was; the scenery that drew itself around her.

The grass looked beautiful, fresh and green at her feet as if her standing there only did the opposite of killing it. The sky, the clouds, the sun all indecisive over the weather, like her presence was enough to throw them off balance. Only the wind seemed to stand its ground, carrying those dark strands of hers as gently as it could. A present for you, offering you a chance to picture her perfect charm in your mind.

It was an instant, she turned to answer your call and faced you with eyes as sweet as ever while your lungs fought to keep themselves and yourself alive a little longer. Breathtaking had just taken a whole new meaning.

You could only hope it felt as cinematic on her end, but the way she laughed into the wind, carrying the sound all the way to your ears as you ran towards her significantly reduced that hope by at least 50%.

Oh, well. At least you made her smile.

“Is this yours?” You asked, holding up the rose as you slowed down, finally close enough to her.

You waited for her answer, breathless as you took great care in stopping before bumping into her. You made sure to leave enough space in between the two of you, but the air that filled it was suddenly heavy with anticipation.

“No.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. There went that pinch in your chest again. This wasn’t something you wanted to get used to. “What?”

“I think it’s yours.” She said, pulling out another one from her back. “This one’s mine.”

“Wh—Huh?” You grimaced, eyebrows furrowing together as you glanced back and forth between the two roses. “Then what’s this?”

“I guess someone has a crush on you.” She said, her voice soft. You barely heard it, but the slight loss of light in her eyes was enough to make you piece it together.

She wasn’t joking around. She really wasn’t the one who’d put that rose your locker.

“Oh.” A nervous chuckle escaped you as you glanced at the rose. You had an idea as to who it was from, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You weren’t going to let this ugly miscommunication ruin your chances. “Well, here. Two for one.”

You handed her the rose in hopes of bringing back the glow that suited her features so well. It was never too long until you managed to do so, and this time was no exception.

“Are you seriously recycling someone’s love right now?” She chuckled and you shrugged. You actually were thinking of it as a proof of only having eyes for her, but alas…

“You’re never too green for the planet.” You joked out of habit. “It’s the least I can do to thank her for these beautiful flowers.”

“For the planet.” She nodded, grabbing the stem carefully as to not hit any of its thorns. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled, and the heavy air turned awkward.

You eyed the space in between, making out every single unspoken word in the short yet frightening distance. Both of you were aware of them now, yet neither dared to cross it.

“Why didn’t you buy me one?” You asked, suddenly curious. If she had planned to confess today of all days, it only seemed logical for her to do so.

“I did. Just not the ones from school.” She said, bringing up the small gift bag she’d been holding on all this time.

Your face lit up and you stepped forward to look inside, something that made Dahyun’s heart pick up the pace. “Oh my gosh, you did!”

How lovely was your smile from up close. Overwhelmingly so. “I made you some chocolates too.” She mumbled as you struggled to keep still.

“No way!” You held onto the baby sized rose in your hand, digging inside the bag with the other to pull the small box at the bottom. “You didn’t…”

Dahyun only nodded, hiding herself behind the sudden need to tell you all about the day she’d spent planning her small confession.

You smiled all the way down to your heart, listening to every one of her words. She’d spent a whole afternoon in the kitchen to make sure everything came out perfect. Her evening was spent writing out her feelings for you, erasing and rewriting every word as she tried to find the right ones only to spend her night tossing and turning in her sheets, nervous and excited about sharing it all with you today.

“Dahyun they’re so good, thank you so much.” You hummed as you tasted one of her chocolates. “Did you have some?”

Dahyun only giggled, glancing down at the ground to avoid your playful ones. It never lasted too long though, only a second as she couldn’t fight the way her eyes were so easily drawn to you.

“Here have one.” You offered, holding what seemed to be a dark chocolate one to her lips. “Come on.” You insisted when you noticed she was hesitant, which only lead you to a playful fight as she resisted you trying to feed it to her. “Please enjoy it! You did all this for me, and I only got you a cheap flower, how does that make me look?”

“I don’t know.” She laughed as your hold on her loosened, defeated. “I mean…”

You cleared your throat at the sudden feeling of your arm around her waist.

“Right now you’re looking very pretty.”

Maybe it was the proximity that reassured her; that gave her enough confidence to confess those thoughts of you. How close you were to her, it felt as though you could only catch her if she jumped that distance.

So she did. She jumped, but failed to close it. Her lips were still and shy near your own, so you brought a hand up to her chin, guiding her towards the smile she’d caused.

Again, it was only an instant. A soft press of your lips, capturing each other’s in a gentle and warm feeling you discovered for the first time together.

It was funny, how she could taste the sweet chocolate on your lips despite herself. And not to pat her own back, but she did a great job.

It was addicting.

Or was it your lips? She couldn’t quite tell just yet, but surely she’ll have time to figure that out.

“So you knew?” You grinned, unable to hold back the happiness you felt.

Dahyun nodded, pressing her lips together as a sign of nerves still high. “Did you know too? About me?”

“Well, I definitely do now.” You chuckled, pulling away to hold her card up, still smiling at the words it contained. She blushed at the same thoughts. “You’re a very talented writer, Dahyun. You make me sound much better than I actually am.”

You joked yet again, suddenly remembering your beloved “class-clown” title. You weren’t exactly proud of it, but you did take pride in bringing joy into this class. That’s what made you so popular, what allowed you to break out of your own shell and make friends with about anyone.

“No. That’s just how good you are to me.”

You took care in making sure no one was ever left behind, especially the quiet and smart ones like Dahyun—often despite themselves—by pulling everyone and anyone into your banter.

As the new kid, Dahyun purposely sought a lack of attention. She kept to herself, but you caught her laughing along with everyone. Maybe that’s exactly what caught your attention at first, and you were surprised she didn’t push you away the first time you approached her.

That’s what usually happens when an academic ace and a class clown are paired together.

“Glad my efforts didn’t go unnoticed.”

“I mean, it was hard not to notice them…”

#dahyun x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice dahyun #kim dahyun #dahyun imagines

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