#COME GET YOUR PUMA FIC

[detroitbecomeonline]

Summary:

Connor almost dies saving a PM700. Out of confusion as to why he put his life on the line like that for a co-worker, he seeks out her trust in order to self-justify the risk.

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym. 

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes. 

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season. 

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day. 

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place. 

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special. 

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname. 

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain. 

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body. 

And then you went about destroying your legs. 

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates. 

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer. 

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.” 

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it. 

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.” 

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through. 

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed. 

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.  

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

next ch [2] >

[elliespassagerprincess]

Can you maybe do post man Abby with Mrs.postman- Black pumas

Mrs. Postman - (abby anderson x reader)

Hi anon! this was so weird to write because where I'm from we don't have people who deliver our mail, but i hope i did you justice. I hope you enjoy:)

This story is based off the song Mrs. Postman by Black Pumas, if you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: post man!abby x fem!reader

requests are open again! send me your silly thoughts:)

warnings: none

Summary: in which you fell for the post lady

authors note: first abby fic that isn't hcs??? let's fucking go dude. My second post for the day, I'm blessing yall before I leave till god knows when lmao.

Every tomorrow brings sunshine in my neighborhood since you've been in it

Oh-oh, here comes Mrs. Postman

She's thicker than blue blood and a message from her spirits, high descendant

Oh-oh, it's Mrs. Postman

This commonality won't let her be fooled by low conditions

Oh-oh, says Mrs. Postman

Your love reside in me but other feathers seem to flock together

Oh-oh, Mrs. Postman

You hated this stupid fucking city.

You don't even know why you moved here in the first place. It was fucking hot. Everything was expensive. You hated this place so much.

The Jackson sun was high in the sky, as you stood at the window drinking your morning tea.

You had moved in a couple of weeks ago, and today was finally the day you would be able to get your mail.

You finally heard the knock at the door, and with excitement you ran towards it. You almost tripped but no one needs to know that.

As you opened the door, you thought you stood in front of a god.

Her blonde hair, was pulled back in a tight braid, she was staring at you with her beautiful eyes, and her smile was just fucking perfect. Her uniform sat tight against her skin, showing her body is just the right places.

Holy shit.

Postman or Postwoman? You don't even what to call her.

"Hi, I'm Abby! You must be new" she said with a bright smile.

Now you knew why everyone is Jackson was always so happy in the morning, their fucking postman was a ray of sunshine.

"Yeah I am" you said with a small smile, opening up your hand to take the package from her hands.

"Have a good day ma'am" Abby said, before she walked away.

Maybe Jackson wasn't that bad after all.

If you want it

Go and get it, you can have it Mrs. Postman

That's alright

Can we spark it? Effervescence, let the flame burn Mrs. Postman

Right on

When it rains just know that every little thing is alright

All the same, I know that everything will be right on time

as the weeks went by, you realized that Jackson wasn't such a bad place.

The people were nice, it was a safe area. The Postlady is really hot. Things were looking up.

You found yourself waking up earlier in the morning, just to make yourself look prettier. You would sweep your front porch daily, to make sure that Abby would come to a clean place. You found yourself baking cookies, and giving it to her every morning.

What was happening to you?

Even when you didn't have any mail, Abby always made a turn at your place. Her visits always made you feel special.

The days Abby didn't come, you always felt the lack of her presence. She'd become a part of you routine. She's become a part of you.

Over time you learned small facts about the blonde.

Her dad was a surgeon, she had one dog, her favorite color is blue, she works 5 days a week, and she's trying to get into college.

You could say the two of you had established a friendship.

You saw whatever you had as more than that. You guys weren't a friendship in your eyes. You felt that there was more.

Your crush on Abby grew by the second, every interaction, every smile and giggle she let out had an effect on you.

god you were down bad for your fucking Postwoman.

Today was like no other.

You woke up, took a showers and you put on brand new blue sundress you bought to hope fully catch Abby's eye.

You sat in your living room, staring at the clock, counting down the seconds of Abby's arrival.

You heard a knock at your door, and you jumped up, cleaning your throat as you walked towards the door. You took a deep breath as you opened the door and you were met with Abby's smiling face.

You saw her eyes wonder down your body as she looked at your outfit.

She thought you looked fucking beautiful.

"Hi Abby" you muttered shyly.

Your eyes met as, and you felt a spark.

"Hi" Abby smiled.

"Do I have mail?" you asked.

"Yeah a letter" Abby handed it to you.

You thanked her and the two of you stood there for a while.

"Aren't you supposed to go Abby?" You asked unsure of why she still stood there.

"Open it"

with a raised eyebrow you opened the letter.

The page was complete white, but in the middle of the page there was some words written in black ink.

Will you go on a date with me?

From your favorite postwoman

Abby <3

You looked up at her with eyes wide, and she awkwardly brought her hand up to scratch the back of her neck.

"So?" She asked unsure.

She looked terrified.

"Fuck yes" You breathed before you leaped forward bringing her in for a hug. You gave her a kiss on a cheek as you pulled away, her face was red.

You made her so fucking nervous.

"Can we go out tonight?" Abby looked at you with a hopeful smile.

"See you tonight ms postman"

[catdemontraphouse]

Bill cipher discord server mutual I am so sorry u are going to regret allowing me to participate😔😔 I’m not rly any good at writing prose lol

I have a fic in progress, it’s called “Nightmare Realm Blunt Rotation.” Yeah. It’s your classic “nobody could fix Bill so they pawn him off on Mabel” but it’s a contemporary tale set 12 years after the original show. None of the chapters are done yet lol so I just picked out random shit from some of them to share😖

Bits from the chapter where Mabel, after having been handed custody of Bill during a heated negotiations session with the Axolotl, has now recruited him to host live sales for the Mystery Shack gift shop and he eats rocks on Instagram for views

Stan’s jaw dropped, and he couldn’t maintain his inside voice anymore. “What the fuck? Mabel!”

“Just ignore it. This is my life now.”

Stan scowled at her blasé response. “You’re just letting him do whatever he wants now?! Mabel, he’s gonna use that setup to recruit freaks for his cult!”

“No, no. It’s chill. I’ve got him doing live sales on Instagram.”

As if on cue, the devil put away his cosmetics and pressed a few buttons on the phone, resuming his work. “Ok, I’m back. Remember buy two get one half off on the spheres….no, no we don’t offer that.” There was another pause as he furrowed his brow at the comments. “Honestly, Catharine Bianchi, I’m going to send a puma to tear your flesh. How many times do I gotta repeat myself? I don’t care if your an influencer, this is a business.” Another pause, this time the beast brought a gloved hand to his face in frustration. “Your entire life is a joke and you’ll never find love! Ok banned. Sorry my beautiful people.” He picked up a pyrite sphere from the table. “Very fine mineral specimen here, it’s 35. Who’s takin it?… Marlene you still here?”

Upon witnessing this spectacle, Stan made Mabel an offer. “Want me to punch him to death again?”

“No, that’s ok.”

Bits from the chapter where The Pines find out Bill has a keen sense of smell and Stan wants to use it to make money by selling shitty non FDA approved perfumes (spoilers everyone gets a rash from it, total disaster idk maybe someone will drink it and die):

“I could tell it’s him because of the smell.”

Mabel looked perplexed and slightly disgusted, so he felt the need to explain.

“See, because my kind can’t typically see so good, we’re usually blessed with a keen sense of smell to help make up for it.”

“Ohhh! Is your sense of smell like a dog, then?”

“No, maybe like… a dog with nose blindness. I can’t smell as good as most Euclideans, but I can at least smell better than a human. Y’know, it’s one of my fun genetic defects.”

“Sooo, what do I smell like?” Mabel asked eagerly.

“Ah. Kid, you’re not gonna like it.”

“I smell bad?!”

“No, not bad. It’s a nice smell. Makes me feel welcome.” He frowned. “Ya smell like human B.O. and fruit.”

“What?!” Mabel cried, as she started frantically sniffing herself. “Dude I just bathed!”

“No, no, no. All humans have some smelly human smell. That’s like, you’re base smell. As a species. It’s not just you. It’s the undertones that are unique.”

“Oh thank god!”

“And then also whatever stuff you come into contact with affects that smell too. And other flesh monsters have different smelly smells, like deer smell isn’t the same as human smell, ya know?”

“I see. You really are like a dog!!” She patted his head affectionately.

“Ugh. Not quite but… sure fine, whatever.”

“So what does Ford smell like?” Mabel questioned enthusiastically.

“He smells like comfort. Well I mean, he smells like human B.O. and books mostly, but it’s a comforting smell.”

“Aw, that’s cute!”

“Sniffing is a form of greeting in my homeworld’s culture but it can also be a sign of affection.”

“You’re so dog-coded it’s crazy!”

Bill scowled. “I’m not a dog.”

“Yes you areee~!” Mabel cooed. “So what does Grunkle Stan smell like?”

“Horrible. Like loser.”

“Ok but like give me the notes. Pretend Grunkle Stan is a perfume.”

“Oh, honey, nobody would buy that.”

“Ok, ok I’m writing this down! ‘Stan… smell!’ Ok!” She looked up at Bill expectantly.

“Just put ‘ass’ in giant bubble letters,”

“Oh, come on! He’s gotta be more complex than that!”

——————-

Bill was sat on the sofa, nursing an unplugged candle warmer, when Stanley barged in.

“Hey, jackass, I have a business proposal for you-“ He paused, a look of disgust washing across his face. “Is that a candle?!”

Bill took another sip from the large container and nodded, smiling. “It’s pretty alright. Piña colada.”

“Huh. I do like piña coladas.” Stan grunted.

“So what’s the deal Stanley? Whaddoya want?”

“I was thinkin, after you sniffed all us the other night, you ought to put that snoz to good use!” Stan pulled a little paper perfume sample from his pocket and shoved it in Bill’s unimpressed face.

“You want me to help you pick a fragrance to conceal your stench?”

“No! I think we ought to get into the fragrance business together! Think about it, they sell this crap at the counter in the mall for hundreds of dollars! Hundreds!” Stan declared, having flashbacks to all the times he got jumped by the old ladies at the department store telling him there was a sale on cologne. Did he really smell that bad?

“Haw? I don’t really get excited about money like you do, Stanley. What’s in it for me? I’ve already got a steady gig going with Starburst.” The gig being half his paycheck was cheese, might I remind you.

“Uh… Ford could model for our ads! Yeah.”

Bill squinted his unnatural human eyes in suspicion and took another glug of melted candle. “Sorry pal, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

[hyypnotix-writes]

I’m sorry I just get nervous jaja

I'm from Argentina, so I'm also sorry to tell you that we're still alive in the World Cup, although by a very small difference, yesterday was an incredible game! I honestly didn't think we would get through, it has been an honor to compete against Wales!

I completely understand your point of view.

I mean football has always been very important for all of us here, it seems incredible but we breathe football, we are happy for football and we cry too; If it's football, 90% of the country wears it with its heart on its sleeve.

Although lately we have been doing very well in different sports nationwide, almost everything always ends up in something related to football.

To give you an example we can use the rugby world cup but if you don't mind, I'll also give you a little context.

Like every year the Copa Libertadores is played (it would be like a South American Champions League) and this year the fans of the Boca Juniors club (including me) did not stop looking for coincidences and situations that had happened the last time they won a Libertadores, we did something very similar with the 2022 World Cup ((believe me that there are still Twitter threads with all our conspiracy theories and "sacrifices" made by Argentines going around social media). If we win this Cup (we already reached the final as the first team to go through all the kill-kill matches on penalties in the history of the Cup) it would be our seventh CL so obviously we are all so obsessed that we see the number 7 everywhere ( there are also Twitter threads about this on the media).

Going back to the example, the last time the Pumas went to the semis was in 2007. And what happened that year? Boca won their last Libertadores. And now that the Pumas have returned to the semi-finals and we are all happy about it, we cannot help but not find the coincidence of the events and therefore fill ourselves with hope for winning “La Séptima” just for the simple fact that something that happened the last time we did it has happened again.

Sometimes I wonder if we are really so bad at a socioeconomic level that we put all our joys, hopes and sometimes sadness in a sport or if we are simply that passionate since we were born or if we are simply a country full of crazy people

I used to play tennis and paddle tennis, I still play as a hobby when I am very stressed and yes you are right, it is considered an elitist sport because to perform professionally you need a very high budget. Basically because it is an individual sport where all the expenses are your responsibility and you are not part of a team. Just like golf, you need special equipment to play it, from the racket to the balls. Generally, an instructor or coach is required to acquire correct technique and these classes are generally not cheap, then the courts are special, they are almost always inside a club, and that club charges a membership that is almost always inaccessible to most people.

Ps: I apologize for the endless text, I think I got carried away.

Ps2: I’m soo in love with your fics :)

you knocked us out!! 👀🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

was a really close match in the first half - Argentina definitely deserved the win in the end tho, we threw it away ..quite literally!

New Zealand next for you ..a very tough draw! good luck 🥲🍀

I remember seeing drone footage of some of the celebrations in Argentina after the World Cup win!! HUGE turnout 🥹

I quite like the small patriotism that comes with sports - I never feel more Welsh than when watching rugby 🥲

I always find it fun when a nation really gets behind their team - whatever the sport

I think superstitions and coincidences always play a big part too - adds to the fun of it all, building up the excitement!

I feel like there was a whole thing with the number 2 in anticipation of Barcelona’s second Champions League win last season ? and that ended up happening ..so maybe there’s something in it ✨

but no, you’re so right! football and netball were always free after school clubs (in my experience) so almost everyone has played football, and most girls over here will have played netball at some point too I think

that’s very fun! I’m a huge fan of tennis, just never had much chance to play - I was very good at it on the Nintendo Wii tho 😂 it was never offered as anything in school, same with rugby, or even cricket so I think they always seemed a bit fancier

idk if it’s because they’re less popular, generally, or maybe it’s just more expensive for schools to run - the most exotic thing my secondary school offered once was rowing which I quite liked ..definitely felt a bit posh, and it ultimately involved having to join a club outside of school

please don’t apologise! I quite like getting long messages 🥰

and thank you for reading it! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it so far 🥹❤️

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

[jade-of-mourning]

so i read this last night and was suddenly invigorated by assassin!zuko, but the au versions! (i hope you don’t mind author jkshbdfhjkgbfks if you want to use any of this expansion in your fic, go ahead! tag me please <3) it’s been a while since i’ve done the canon assassin verse but that doesn’t mean i can’t have Thoughts about all the aus i’ll never write,,,

anyway the already written setup here is sokka needs someone to do some good ol’ infiltration stunts during the invasion, and suki says that she Knows A Guy. that guy being, assassin/blue spirit!zuko, who is presumably not on the chase for the avatar. cuz i’m absolutely biased and looking at it from a perspective as a continuation of my pre-canon verse, i’m going to take some liberties with the setup ahahjsbdjkbhasd

while most of my imagined aus from bonsis are either pre-banishment or immediate post-banishment (i’ll have to talk about those one day), this is the one where the gaang’s already around. so we’ve got a murdery/stabby zuko on the loose who absolutely does Not give two fucks about anything. since this is my post, he said “fuck iroh” and went off on his own as soon as he was physically capable of hauling his ass out of the medical room (read: half an hour after regaining consciousness bc this is The spiteful i’m-not-a-turtleduck/I Will Bite Your Head Off kid). he hasn’t really unlearned the fire nation’s propoganda and imperialistic views at this point in his life with zero assistance or gotten good at being good; he’s kind of in this middle ground where he disregarded his hunt for the avatar by seeing it for what it was (assassin!zuko tends to Think a little more), yet he’s not going to outright oppose the fire nation either.

i assume suki probably knows him under the alias of lee or something, so when he’s introduced to sokka with a Hefty Pay being offered for a confidential job, he’s absolutely down for it. that is, until he learns that the avatar is involved, and suddenly everything is flipped around, because he’s already accepted the job, except how in his good conscience can he allow the avatar to go and kill his father? zuko doesn’t care that ozai is a complete dick, even if he deep down knows that it’s entirely fucked up, cuz that’s his Dad and he can’t betray his country like this and maybe he can still get those honor muffins back if he tries hard enough-

so he panics and agrees anyway, and ends up playing the long-con. he’ll end up with the invasion crew after the fall of ba sing se and get dragged along with the gaang bc aang does need a firebending teacher anyway, and it’s not like he can say no to those terrible Koala Sheep Eyeballs, so he agres to go with them. along the way he’s forcefully acquainted to the idea of Friendships and Kind Things (tf are those??? Says Zuko) and accidentally dragged into,,, affection for these horrible children who have plans to kill his dad,,,,

and he’s already sent a messenger hawk to the palace warning them of the details of the invasion. oops.

welp, zuko done and fucked up. the invasion is Fucked, zuko is Fucked, everyone he’s come to genuinely reluctantly care about in the scratchy-rawrg feral-pygmy-puma way is Fucked. 

big fun.

[opaljm]

eye of the tiger (m) | teaser – kth

➻ female reader x taehyung

➻ jagged spin-off + hybrid au + tiger!taehyung + giraffe/deer!reader + enemies to lovers + fake dating + minor inspiration from zootopia if you squint

�� genres: angst, smut, romance

➻ length & status: 3k words; teaser

➻ rating & warnings: 18+; allusions to minor discrimination and prejudice; allusion to bullying

➻ summary: You had been bullied by Kim Taehyung in your youth and wanted to have nothing to do with him. But when your ex-boyfriend, a stag hybrid, kept dogging at your heels and Taehyung needed a girlfriend to stop the jaguar hybrid Jimin from growling every single time he got within 10 feet of his girlfriend, you find yourself agreeing to keep up the pretense that you and Taehyung were each other’s childhood crushes and had only recently reconnected and decided to date. 

➻ a/n: the Jagged sequel that exactly two people asked for.  enjoy this for now because i have no idea when i will be finishing this since i have to finish the fics i already gave post dates for :D

➻ disclaimer: all lions are inbred and they live in a pride. i don’t think this is necessarily something that i have to apologize for having in my story but i’ll still throw out the disclaimer that there is one tiny joke about lions being inbred.

⋆ jagged ⋆ teaser ii ⋆ my masterlist ⋆

When you were little, there were a group of predator hybrids who used to relish in causing you pain and anguish. They would ridicule you for just about everything, from your big doe eyes with its long sweeping lashes that would brush against your cheekbones when your eyes were closed to your longer than average neck that was narrow and would often elongate itself when you were absentmindedly trying to look far off into the distance. You had been bullied for your skinny frame and your long gangly limbs throughout all of elementary school where you had been a foot taller than the second tallest person in your class. You were constantly besmirched for having the smattering of pale freckles over your cheeks and nose, always being made to feel adequate for having visual indications of your deer and giraffe heritage.

From what you could tell, the only prey hybrids that were accepted in your small town in South Carolina, were the ones that had hybrid markers that were ambiguous and could have belonged to any number of species or the ones that didn’t have many visible hybrid markers at all. In contrast, the predator hybrids were allowed to delight in their own signs of hybridization. The worst of your bullies were a large group of big cat hybrids, containing both males and females’ hybrids of lions with the occasional leopard hybrid. From what you could tell, the lion hybrids of your small town enjoyed ruling over the place with their pride, and their children had learned from their toxic behavior, enjoying terrifying smaller predator hybrids by sneaking up on them and practicing their roars or by eating their lunches, from home, of entirely raw hunks of meat in front of prey hybrids causing them to throw up the contents of their own vegetarian meals.

All of this should have made you critical of predator hybrids and how they treated the prey hybrids of your town, but when you sat in the one room apartment that you shared with your mother, a lovely deer hybrid who had had you too young and was raising you by herself, you would do your arithmetic equations and stare at the poster of the University of Californian Hybrids, Los Angeles you had hanging up, and dream of escaping to a big city in a more progressive state where predators and prey could live in harmony with each other and might even sometimes be in relationships together. This was even worse than when two hybrids of the same class bred outside their species in your hometown. That’s what had happened with your mother and father. He was a D1 athlete who played on the basketball team of the university they had gone to and had broken your mother’s heart after she had found out that she was pregnant with you. It was one thing to date or sleep with someone who wasn’t the same species as you. It was an entirely different ordeal marrying them and having children with them.

You were desirous of a life where you could be with a predator hybrid because when you were six and had been pushed off of the top of the slides by a puma hybrid, who had waiting for her turn to slide after you, an adorable tiger hybrid who had been roughly the same age as you had squeaked out his attempt at a sonorous roar and scared off the girl and then had slid down to run to you, where you laid sprawled on the rubber floor of the playground clutching your sprained wrist. He had yelled for his grandmother to get you aid and had become your best friend up until the two of you had entered middle school and hit puberty. That was when Taehyung, who had been your fiercest defender against everyone who ridiculed your modelesque stature, and the way you had towered over everyone at your school, had fallen in love with a lion hybrid and started hanging out more and more with the crew of big cat hybrids after school. The final devastating blow that had severed your friendship with the male, forever? When the lion hybrid he had had a crush on, Miyeon, had made fun of your eyes, before you had to do a presentation for your world history class, and said they protruded and made you looked bug-eyed and then said that the only people who would ever find you attractive would be amphibian hybrids and Taehyung had joined her in her laughter. There was nothing wrong with toad or frog hybrids, but it hurt when the male you were in love with laughed and agreed that you were not attractive. That had made you spiral into a depression and made you determined that the following year, when you entered high school, you would do everything in your power to excel at school and to be extraordinary enough to not only get a ticket out of the prejudiced hellhole that was your hometown but to be able to afford to accept that ticket in the form of a full ride scholarship.

When you had finally moved to Los Angeles, your mother remaining behind because she said that the cost of living there was too expensive even though she would have loved to join you, you had reinvented yourself into someone who was self-assured and confident. Someone who had pride in all of the aspects that made her who she undeniably was. Also, when you entered university you were shocked at how many hybrids were taller than you, not only the giraffe ones. There were lion hybrids on campus that were taller than you, for the most part all of them were. That had made you squinty eyed and ask your mother how much inbreeding she thought the lion hybrids back home had partaken in since they were much smaller and much weaker than all the cat hybrids you had run into. And not to mention, undeniably ugly.

In fact, you were more aware that you were only half giraffe hybrid and not full, every time you walked around the campus where everyone was tall and beautiful. You had a full scholarship, a wide variety of friends from different majors, and had even dated a couple of guys. Your ex being without a doubt one of your worse decisions but at least it gave you experience right? But the point was, you had changed. You were no longer the scared skittish prey hybrid of the past that allowed big cat hybrids to walk all over her just because in the wild they were the “kings of the jungle.”

This is why it was particularly annoying that when Taehyung, yes that asshole went to the same school as you, had seen you across the room at a frat party and had lunged in your direction, you had been frozen like a deer in headlights and could not move. This had resulted in the jerk, whom you had not seen nor talked to since you stood next to him at your high school graduation ceremony, wrapping his warm large hand around your wrist and dragging you through the crowd of drunk hybrids up the stairs to the second floor to an unoccupied bathroom.

“Taehyung what the fuck,” you groused, no longer the soft-spoken girl that he was used to. You were annoyed at how good he looked. He was shorter than you in your heels, but he was probably within an inch of your height if you both stood nose to nose and barefoot. He was wearing an animal print shirt that had short sleeves and exposed his chest, which looked irritatingly firm and was a sun-kissed gold. There was a band of cloth wrapped around his head like a bandana that made him look rakishly seductive. And his wavy tousled dark hair and heavy-lidded amber eyes made a devastating combination that made your panties wet with a rush of arousal. He sniffed the air and you prayed that he only smelled the clean linen scented air fresheners that overpowering the bathroom and not the scent of your arousal underneath it.

“I need a favor,” he admitted without preamble. You blurted out your refusal after the word “need,” interrupting him. “Oh, come on Y/N, we were close once,” he tried.

“Yeah when we were six,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your shirt that tightened even more around the generous swell of your breasts. You upturned your face, gazing up at the vents on the ceiling as though you were contemplating your escape before becoming self-conscious of the elongated state of your throat and moved to fix your gaze onto something that was more your eye level: the towel rack that had been added to the door.

Taehyung sighed, if you didn’t agree to help him, he would be in a pickle. Moments before he had seen you at the party, he had been talking to the pretty sand dune cat hybrid he had been lusting over all of last semester. Unfortunately for him, it appeared that she was still in love with that jaguar hybrid Jimin who hung around her like a dark cloud. Not even two minutes into her and Taehyung’s conversation, Jimin had appeared and draped a possessive arm around her while he glared venomously and unblinkingly at Taehyung.

With a laugh Taehyung had said, “Look man I’m not trying to steal your girl.” Even though he was totally trying to steal his girl, “I have my own and my tastes are quite the opposite, not that you aren’t beautiful ___,” he added, flashing her a wide smile and throwing in a wink for good measure. Jimin was awkward and standoffish, not to mention he was kind of small for a wild cat hybrid. ___ needed someone who was big and strong and could adequately protect her and their cubs.

Jimin had only raised one elegantly shaped dark eyebrow at the statement and looked skeptically at Taehyung, “And where is this girlfriend of yours? This is the first I’m hearing about her.”

Taehyung had smiled tensely and looked beyond where they stood to where the room was more crowded into a crush, his gaze flitting from female to female as he tried to find someone he could pass off as a girl he had been seeing for a while. His gaze had found you in the throng. You had stood out from everyone else with your thin form, towering over a majority of the girls while you danced with a red solo cup in one hand and gracefully throwing your head back. Your long hair had revealed the sexy stretch of skin from the column of your throat to your bare shoulders that were all golden from exposure to the sun yet still had the faint smattering of freckles. He couldn’t shift his eyes from your figure.

His gaze was trapped on the sensual picture you had formed on the dance floor, writhing with confidence, and awakening in Taehyung an inexplicable need to hunt you down, throw you over his shoulder and drag you back to his lair to command your body and pleasure it. To undeniably exercise his ownership over you. It had been confusing because for all that Taehyung was a tiger hybrid, he had rarely experienced such an overwhelming need to chase and to hunt, to show that he was an apex predator and the king of the jungle.

Jimin’s eyes had followed the path that Taehyung’s eyes had made, and uttered after a surprised sound of disbelief, “Wow she really is different from ___. Is she even a cat hybrid?”

Taehyung had answered him with annoyance, not daring to shift his eyes from you, fearing that you would disappear in the crowd of the party if he took his eyes off, “She’s a mixed baby. A giraffe and deer hybrid.”

___ had let out an amazed gasp of astonishment, “That sounds like such an interesting pairing. Can I meet her, Taehyung? I wonder what life is like growing up mixed. Even more so, since Jimin and my kittens will be—”

Taehyung barely paid attention to her, his gaze was too focused on the deer hybrid approaching you. “I have to go,” he muttered, setting down his empty bottle of beer on the counter.

“Sure, of course,” hummed ___, “But remember to ask her about a double date, okay!”

This brought the two of you to the present. Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the memory of that stag who had been sniffing around you. “Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?”

You started at the abrupt change in conversation. Why would Taehyung ask you such a thing? Had he seen you shift away from Jongin before you had been unceremoniously dragged upstairs by him? “Not that it’s any of your business since we aren’t friends,” you emphasized mercilessly, “But that was my ex Jongin. That’s the last time I’ll date a deer hybrid,” you admitted reluctantly. “The men are so overbearing and territorial. And he can’t accept that we’re broken up since I was the one to break things off and not him.” The last sentence had you huffing in indignation.

“Hmm,” hummed Taehyung thoughtfully, instantly making you suspicious and raising the hairs on your body. “Have you considered a tiger hybrid for your next boyfriend?”

You side-eyed him. What the fuck. “No, I have not Taehyung. Why would you even say something like that? It’s hardly as though you’re trying to get that position.”

Taehyung bared all his teeth threateningly. It hardly could be passed off as a smile. “But what if I were, Y/N?”

“No.” You refused to even think about it and tried to shove past his body to get to the door and out of this confining space.

Taehyung wouldn’t let you escape so easily. He crowded you against the door. Although you had the height, he was still much bigger than you with wide shoulders and a body that was wrapped by hard ropes of lean predator muscle. “I have a proposition. If you pretend to be my girlfriend for a month, I’ll get that meathead to stop bothering you,” He murmured, meeting your wary gaze with his smoldering one, his deep honey colored eyes boring into your chocolate brown ones.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about just how the tiger hybrid would go about making the deer hybrid to back off. “You’re still getting thrills out of intimidating prey hybrids?” you scoffed, “That’s disgusting, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stilled, thrown off for a second, before he once again bared his teeth in the loose semblance of a smile and uttered, “I just meant he’s a Neanderthal. Once he sees how happy and satisfied you were with me, not to mention how I am able to take care of your every need, he’ll take the L and leave you alone.”

You still weren’t sold. “But why do you need a fake girlfriend,” you asked in suspicion. You trusted Taehyung about as far as you could throw him, which was probably only half a yard away.

Taehyung lied to you bald-facedly, the untruth flowing from his tongue so smoothly that you didn’t even catch it, “Same as you. There are too many people who are dying to have a piece of me and it’s honestly distracting. I’m trying to get into to finish a really intensive and time-consuming project for my major. I don’t have time to waste on booty calls.”

“And you would never be tempted to have sex with me?” You asked, your eyes burning a hole into the stretchy fabric of his black and white shirt.

“Never,” agreed Taehyung, lying once again. This time his heart thudded loudly against his chest and he felt a pang that he didn’t want to think about too deeply.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License

©OPALJM 2020

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 4: Baby Badger-Viper

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

I actually updated on AO3 yesterday, but I was too lazy to post the new chapter here.  So here’s the new chapter now.  Chapter 5 won’t go up until after I move next week, though, because I’m going to have to focus on packing and whatnot.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.  A component of this chapter is thanks to this art that jaselin did.

——————————————————————————————

              Hakoda should have known that whatever Tuluk had to say was trouble. The crewman had come into his cabin while he was responding to letters from the Northern Fleet – without knocking.

              “Chief?”  Hakoda set his pen down.

              “Yes?” he asked.

              “The kid’s up the mast again.”

              “The-” Hakoda’s eyes widened.  “Zuko climbed the mast?”  Tuluk nodded.  “He’s four!” Though, now that Hakoda thought about it, Zuko’s current age wasn’t as much of an impediment as it would have been to someone else.  This was, after all, the boy that had managed to bruise multiple crewmen while battling hypothermia.  Hakoda got up from his desk and followed Tuluk onto the deck.

              “You need to wear something!” Toklo called.  True enough, Hakoda could just make out a very young boy, sitting on the crossbeam of the main mast.

              “Tui and La, how did he get up there?” Hakoda breathed.  Much of the crew had stopped to watch the spectacle of a toddler up very high, in a very precarious, very dangerous situation. Even those who were taking longer to warm up to Zuko were visibly concerned for his safety.  The crewmen that had bonded with him, like Toklo, looked like they might have heart attacks.

              “No!” Zuko shouted down to Toklo.  His voice was petulant, but not in the way a prince would speak.  He sounded every bit the toddler he was.  “I won’t wear it!”

              “It’s the only thing in your size, Zuko,” Bato argued.  Hakoda walked to his second-in-command’s side.

              “What happened?” Hakoda asked.  Bato sighed and uncrossed his arms.

              “The little brat won’t put on a coat.”  Bato looked up the mast to shout again.  “Do you want to get sick again?”

              “Yes!” shrieked the small firebender.

              “Son of a-”  Bato rubbed his forehead.

              “Why won’t he put on a coat?” Hakoda asked.

              “The one he likes is still drying,” Toklo said.  “We had to wash it earlier.”  Washing it was the right move.  The last Hakoda had seen of the coat, it was covered in messes that only a clumsy toddler could make.

              “We got him another coat last time we docked,” Hakoda pointed out. Panuk snorted softly.

              “Yeah, and he hates it.”

              “Are you talking about me?” Zuko shouted.  “That’s not nice!”  Scattered snickers came from the crewmen.

              “I’ll get him,” Hakoda said wearily.

              For the second time, he climbed up the mast to retrieve a stubborn firebender. When he arrived at the crossbeam, Zuko glared at him.

              “Zuko, you can’t stay up here.”

              “Yes, I can!”

              “No, you can’t.”

              “Yes, I can!” Zuko said stubbornly.  Hakoda sighed.  He’d forgotten how difficult toddlers could be.  After all, it had been a while since his children were this young, and up until now, Zuko had been on his best behavior.

              “It’s not safe for you,” Hakoda said, forcing calm.  Zuko glanced down at the deck uncertainly, then met his eyes again with that distinctive glower.  But Hakoda had seen the brief flash of fear across the boy’s face. Zuko didn’t want to be up here any more than Hakoda wanted it.  “You’re coming down with me.”

              “No.”  Zuko fidgeted.  On a crossbeam.  That a fall from would cause serious injuries.  Hakoda fought the instinctual urge to grab the boy.  He waited.  Zuko clearly had more to say.  “…I’m scared,” Zuko finally whimpered.  “It’s taller than before.”

              “Well, you’re shorter than before,” Hakoda pointed out.  Zuko fidgeted again.  “I’ll carry you down, okay?”  After a moment, Zuko bobbed his head.  He scooted closer to Hakoda, who scooped him into one arm, stifling a sigh of relief.  Zuko buried his face into Hakoda’s shirt, hiding from the height or the eyes of the crewmen, Hakoda wasn’t sure.

              Once back on the deck, Hakoda set the boy down.  This incident with the mast was vastly different from the first; for one, the boy shivering in the cold wind looked nothing like the proud prince they’d fished from the sea.  With his blue clothes drying, Zuko was in his green Earth Kingdom attire again.  His hair, which Hakoda felt certain grew faster than normal, was tied back in the traditional wolf’s tail.  It took the shortest amount of time of any hairstyles the crew knew, and Zuko was too fidgety to sit still for a longer one.

              No, Zuko didn’t look like a prince.  He looked like a refugee.  Like one of the orphans that picked up a heritage from any adult willing to help them, and as a result, blended many backgrounds into one.

              It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, Hakoda considered, to think of the former Fire Nation Prince as a refugee.

              “Put on your coat,” Hakoda instructed Zuko, pushing away his musings. Zuko scowled.

              “N-n-no,” he said, his teeth chattering from the cold.

              “Wearing a coat you dislike is preferable to catching your death,” Hakoda said shortly.  Zuko opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but closed it again.  He nodded reluctantly.  Toklo, who had been standing nearby with said detested coat in his hands, moved forward and draped it over Zuko’s shoulders.

              “I can put it on myself,” Zuko whined as Toklo busily dressed him.

              “I’m just helping you with the buttons,” Toklo chirped, buttoning up the coat. He pulled the hood over Zuko’s head. “There!  Now you can stop shivering.”  Now that the coat was on, Hakoda could see why the boy hated it.

              “It looks even better than I thought it would,” Bato said, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice.  “We’d better keep you away from the birds.  They might think you’re a predator.”  Zuko scowled.

              “Of course you like it, you bought it,” he mumbled.  Bato grinned.  The coat was one made for children that enjoyed dressing up in costumes. It had ears on the hood and a tail on the back.  Overall, it brought to mind a simplified version of an animal Hakoda had heard of, but had not seen.

              “You make quite the fierce pygmy puma,” Hakoda remarked.

              Zuko pulled the hood further down his face, pouting.

----- 

              “He’s here, Chief,” Aake rumbled as he walked onto the deck, carrying Zuko over his shoulder.

              “Put me down, put me down!” Zuko shrieked, kicking his legs ineffectually. “I don’t need a nap!”

              “You sound just like Sitka when he gets overtired,” Aake said.  “That’s a sign that you do need a nap.”

              “No!” Zuko whined.  Aake handed the squirming toddler to Hakoda.

              “Zuko, we’ve been over this,” Hakoda said wearily.  Zuko wriggled fiercely in Hakoda’s arms.  A few sparks burst into life, meeting Hakoda’s skin and causing him to instinctively drop the toddler.  Unlike the first time he’d fallen to the deck, Zuko didn’t stay quiet. He burst into tears.

              “What is going on with him lately?” Panuk muttered.

              “He’s overtired, for one thing,” Aake said.  Hakoda picked Zuko up again and brought him to the infirmary, ignoring the boy’s crying.  “Toddlers always get worse when they need a nap.”

              “Yeah, but he’s been acting out even when he’s not tired,” Toklo pointed out. Aake shrugged.

              “Maybe he’s given up on pretending to be a teenager.”

----- 

              It took a long time for Zuko to calm down.  The moment he did, he fell asleep, exhausted from his temper tantrum. Kustaa shook his head.

              “It’s back to being the baby badger-viper you were when you first joined us, huh?” he asked the sleeping boy.  Zuko snored in response.  A thin line of drool dribbled down his cheek.  “At least you’re too small to bruise us every time you throw a fit.”  Zuko snored again.

              Satisfied that his young charge wouldn’t wake up for some time, Kustaa took out the book he’d been given by Healer Yugoda.  It was a record of every known instance the Northern Water Tribe had of someone being spirit touched.  Hopefully, he could find something in it to illuminate what had happened to Zuko. He sat down at his desk and began to read.

              Yugoda’s book was very, very detailed.  It included names that Kustaa half-remembered and others that he had never heard before, tales from both poles, ancient legends, and even recent instances, such as the Moon Spirit saving the life of a Northern Tribe Princess.

              The reasons spirits intervened in mortal affairs were varied, but a common one was for personal growth.  Spirits, despite being immortal, could be impatient with the pace of human development. Any human that had been marked as having a significant destiny was watched closely.  Should that human dawdle on their journey, a spirit might intervene.

              Kustaa wasn’t too familiar with Fire Nation customs, but he had heard that the royal family were thought of as being blessed by the Sun Spirit, Agni. Zuko, a Fire Nation Prince, would undoubtedly have a destiny the spirits might take interest in.  It seemed most likely that Zuko had been reverted to a child as some manner of speeding his journey.  After all, the other frequent cause of a spirit intervening – to save a life – didn’t apply.  Zuko had been hale and hearty the day before he woke up as a toddler.

              Unfortunately, there were no records that Kustaa could find of spirits returning someone’s youth.  Which dashed the hope that he might be able to figure out whether Zuko’s change in behavior was as troubling as it seemed.  Zuko didn’t seem to notice, but the rest of the crew had picked up on the firebender’s increasingly frequent meltdowns, immature speech patterns, and juvenile reactions.

              He could be upset about something, and slipping into more age-appropriate behavior as a coping mechanism.  It could be a delayed effect of this specific spiritual intervention. Or even an effect that only happens after being in a spirit touched state for an extended period of time. Maybe it’s as some crew are suggesting, that he’s given up hope of returning to his proper age, and as such, opted to give up acting as if he were that age.

              With a soft sigh, Kustaa closed the book.  There were too many possibilities, and he wouldn’t be able to narrow them down unless Zuko opened up.

              Fat chance of that happening.  There was faint stirring from Zuko’s furs.  Kustaa looked over.  A small face popped up.

              “Did you enjoy your nap, nephew?” Kustaa asked pleasantly.  Zuko yawned widely and stretched.  He nodded.  “Good.” A sudden stricken look crossed Zuko’s face.

              “Um…”  Zuko fidgeted.  “Can- can I stay in here for a while?” he asked sheepishly.  Kustaa raised an eyebrow.  “I…I behaved poorly earlier,” Zuko mumbled.  After he’d let Zuko wallow for a moment, Kustaa nodded.

              “I have some herbs that need sorting.  If you’d like, you can do that.”  Zuko beamed.  Kustaa fought back a smile in return.

              The kid was a beast when he was upset, but far more endearing than he had any right being.

              Like most young children.

----- 

              Hakoda browsed the selection of the store, in his peripheral, keeping an eye on Zuko.  The first few towns, he hadn’t been the only golden-eyed child, but as they progressed down the coast, his obvious Fire Nation heritage turned more and more heads. Luckily, any glares sent Zuko’s way were replaced by sheepish looks once they saw his scar.  The fact that Zuko preferred warm clothing, and thus dressed in Water Tribe attire more often, helped as well.  But Hakoda remained on edge.

              Someone tapped on Hakoda’s shoulder.  He turned.

              “Excuse me, sir, but is he your son?” asked the woman who had approached him. She pointed at Zuko, who was ogling a display of exotic spices.  Hakoda nodded.  “Ah.” A sympathetic expression settled on the woman’s face.  “It was very kind of you to keep him.”

              Hakoda knew what the woman was implying.  It was the lie he’d given over and over, that Zuko was a war bastard. But the lie suddenly tasted bitter. He’d seen the golden-eyed street urchins.  He knew that war bastards weren’t always kept.  Still, Hakoda couldn’t shake loose the dirty feeling that had come over him, at the suggestion that a mixed-blood child growing up in a home was an anomaly, not the norm.

              “Of course I kept him,” Hakoda said softly.  “He’s my son, regardless of his parentage.”  The woman smiled.  Zuko stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a bright red spice.  “Nuktuk.”  Zuko spun around.  The woman Hakoda was talking to let out a soft gasp.  “If you want to get a closer look at something, ask and I’ll get it for you.”  Zuko scowled. “We can’t have you knocking things over again.”  Zuko nodded reluctantly.  Hakoda walked over.  “What did you want to look at?”

              “That,” Zuko mumbled, pointing out the red spice.  Hakoda handed it to him.

              “This?”

              “Yeah.”  Zuko stared intently at the small bottle.  According to the label, it contained ground chilis and fire flakes. “I like this.”

              “Do you want it?” Hakoda probed.  After a moment, Zuko nodded.  “Then ask.”

              “Can I have it?” Zuko asked quietly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Please?” Hakoda nodded.

              “Since you asked so nicely…”  Zuko handed Hakoda the bottle, already brimming with excitement.  “You can keep looking around, but remember to be careful.” Zuko nodded.  He toddled over to a wall of jars containing pickled vegetables. Hakoda turned to the woman he’d been speaking with.  Horror filled her eyes.

              “I’ve seen burns on refugees before, but never something that bad on someone so young,” she whispered.  “I’m so sorry.”  Hakoda paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond.

              “Thank you.  But it’s something we’ve done our best to move past.  Dwelling on it only makes it worse,” he said diplomatically.  The woman shook her head, still visibly disturbed. She walked over to Zuko and crouched next to him, speaking to him in a low voice.

              Hakoda watched for a few moments, nervous that Zuko might say or do something that made it obvious he wasn’t a regular toddler.  But the woman didn’t seem perturbed, so he resumed shopping. The woman eventually left Zuko’s side and went up to the register.  She stopped by Zuko again on her way out of the shop.

              Hakoda brought the supplies up to the register.  Zuko sidled over to him, a large stuffed animal turtle duck in his arms.

              “That thing’s almost as big as you,” Hakoda remarked.  Zuko scowled and hugged the toy tighter.  “I can’t buy it for you, you know.”

              “Not a problem, sir,” said the cashier, counting out Hakoda’s change. “Lily got it for him.”

              “The woman that was in here earlier?” Hakoda asked.  The cashier nodded.

              “Yup.  She’s got a soft spot for refugee kids.”  The cashier shook his head.  “It’s a shame what good people like you and your family have to deal with.  Leaving your life behind, taking only the barest of necessities…”

              “It’s war,” Hakoda said dryly.  The cashier handed Hakoda his change.

              “That it is.”

----- 

              Zuko’s poor behavior began to die down after that stop.  His stuffed turtle duck came with him almost everywhere.  It reminded Hakoda of the blanket Sokka had been overly attached to as a child.

              “Who would’ve thought the kid just needed a toy?” Bato remarked.  Some of the men were training on the deck. Zuko was watching, heckling those he thought could do better.  His sharp words were undercut by how tightly he hugged his stuffed animal.

              “A complete stranger in a store,” Hakoda said softly.

              “You mean the woman that bought it for him?”

              “Yes.  She was under the impression we were refugees whose only real possessions were the clothes on our backs.”

              “Huh.  Well, with Zuko, that’s actually pretty accurate.”

              “Exactly.”  Hakoda watched Zuko tease Ranalok for losing a sparring match.  “I don’t think Zuko qualifies as a refugee, but he’s pretty close to one.  His world’s been turned upside down multiple times.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of giving him a toy or blanket or-”

              “Hakoda, he’s been trying to act like a teenager for most of his time as a kid,” Bato pointed out.  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  The good news is that the kid’s finally calming down again.”

              “We never did find out why he started acting up.”

              “Don’t look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth,” Bato said with a shrug. Hakoda didn’t respond.  Zuko yawned widely.  Hakoda walked over.

              “Zuko, would you come with me?” Hakoda asked softly.  Zuko nodded.  He followed Hakoda into his cabin.  Hakoda lifted the boy onto the chair opposite his desk, then sat down.  Zuko looked at him, his eyes getting slightly bleary from tiredness.

              “What is it, Chief?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda steepled his fingers.

              “I want to talk about your behavior.”  That shocked him out of any sleepiness he might have had.  Zuko straightened, eyes wide with fear.  “Before you say anything, I’m not punishing you.  You’ve been very well-behaved since we last docked.” Zuko relaxed slightly.  “But for a rather long time, you were not.”

              “I’m sorry,” Zuko mumbled.

              “I don’t want an apology.  I’m just wondering if you could share with me the reason,” Hakoda said.  Zuko squeezed his stuffed turtle duck.  “After we parted ways with the Northerners, you began acting in ways you hadn’t before.  Why?”

              “Why are you asking me now?” Zuko mumbled.  “You should have asked while I was misbehaving.”

              “Do you remember how you refused to cooperate with something as simple as taking a nap?” Hakoda asked.  Zuko reddened.  He nodded. “That’s why I didn’t ask then.  I’m not going to judge you.  But if you know why you were behaving so poorly-”

              “I was upset,” Zuko blurted out.  Hakoda waited.  The boy didn’t say anything else.

              “Why were you upset?” Hakoda prodded gently.

              “Uncle,” Zuko mumbled.  He squeezed his toy again.  “I…miss him.”

              “Do you want to see him?”

              “Yes.  No. I-”  Zuko looked away.  “The spirits cursed me, and I don’t know why, and Uncle cares too much, and he’d ask questions I don’t know how to answer, and-”  Hakoda held up a hand.  Zuko fell silent.

              “You were conflicted,” he said.  Zuko nodded.  “You want to see your uncle, but you’re worried how the reunion might go.”  Zuko nodded again.  “You could have told us.”

              “No.  I’m already four.  I don’t need any more indignities thrust upon me.”

              “Zuko, when something troubles you so much that it affects your behavior, it’s something you need to share,” Hakoda said patiently.  Zuko scowled.  Hakoda felt like he was back in time, trying to convince Sokka to talk things out before escalating to a fight.  “Are you better now?”  The young firebender blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the apparent change in topic.

              “Sort of.  I mean, I still miss Uncle and feel…conflicted,” Zuko confessed.  “But it’s not as bad now.”  He looked down at his stuffed animal.  “I had one like this before.  Lu Ten gave it to me.”

              “Lu Ten?”

              “My cousin.  He- he died during the Siege of Ba Sing Se.”

              “Ah,” Hakoda said softly.  Zuko looked at him expectantly.  Hakoda raised an eyebrow.  “Yes?”

              “Am I excused?” Zuko asked.  Hakoda nodded.  Zuko hopped off the chair and rushed out of the cabin.  Hakoda leaned back.

              Despite all his protests to the contrary, he’s just a boy.  A boy that feels a bit safer when he has something of his own to cuddle.  Hakoda grimaced.  I can’t tell Toklo and Panuk that toys are apparently the key to getting Zuko to open up. They’ll bury him in stuffed animals.

----- 

              “Zuko.”  Zuko sat bolt upright.  He looked over at Kustaa.  The healer was still fast asleep.  Wondering if he’d imagined it, Zuko laid back down.  “Zuko.”

              Who’s saying that?  Zuko fought free of his pile of furs.  He slipped on a coat to protect himself against the night wind and snuck onto the deck as quietly as possible.  The night shift did their chores, not paying any attention to the toddler padding past them. Something guided Zuko’s feet to the edge of the ship.  He clambered onto the railing, ignoring Hakoda’s voice in the back of his head telling him to stop climbing things.

              The full moon shone in the sky.  Its mirror image on the still ocean was just as bright.  Zuko cocked his head curiously at it.  Normally, he could feel the influence of the moon decreasing his bending capability.  But tonight, he didn’t feel stifled.

              It’s probably because my bending is even weaker than usual right now. Zuko tilted his head back to look up at the stars.  A memory flashed in his mind: the first time he’d seen the spirit lights in the South Pole.  Uncle had been thrilled and dragged Zuko out of bed to watch.  He blinked, and the memory faded.  No colorful ribbons split the sky in two.  Stars scattered across the heavens like they had been spilled from a jar. The moon hung heavy.  Zuko sighed.  I should go back to bed.

              “Not yet, Prince Zuko.”

              “Just Zuko,” Zuko said instinctively.  His eyes widened.  A figure began to form out of the moon.  A young woman, about the age he’d been before the spirits cursed him.  She smiled sweetly.

              “Not cursed, Prince Zuko.  Blessed,” she said.  Her voice echoed across the waves.  She floated closer.  “And why would I not call you Prince?  It is your title.”

              “Not- not anymore,” Zuko stammered.  He resisted the urge to fidget.  Clearly, he was in the presence of a spirit.  He had to be on his best behavior.  The spirit settled next to him on the railing.  Zuko winced slightly; her bright glow hurt his bad eye.  Her eyes widened.  The glow surrounding her dimmed from the force of the full moon to a soft foxfire.

              “I apologize,” she said.  “This is the first time I’m really acting as a spiritual intermediary.”

              “But…you’re the moon spirit,” Zuko said, having finally recognized her. She smiled sadly.

              “Not always.  You can call me Yue.”

              “Yue.”  Zuko looked down at his hands.  “Yue, I- I can’t be the prince anymore.”

              “Why not?”

              “I just- I can’t.”

              “Hmm.”  Yue looked out across the water.  “If you want to renounce your title, it might behoove you to wait until you have a firm reason for doing so.”

              “…Maybe,” Zuko mumbled.  He took a deep breath.  “Why- why are you here?” he asked.  To his displeasure, it came out as a weak squeak.  Yue smiled fondly at him.  Her white hair billowed behind her, despite the complete lack of breezes.

              “It’s time you were told why the spirits have intervened with you.” Zuko whipped his head up to stare at Yue in shock.

              “That doesn’t happen very often.”

              “The general consensus is that you might not pick up on it on your own,” Yue confessed.  Zuko flushed in embarrassment.  “Prince Zuko, your personal journey, one that the spirits have been invested in, is unlearning what you were taught by your father.”

              “Like what?” Zuko asked.  “Give me an example.”  Yue’s mouth twitched.

              “They’re all examples.”

              “What?”

              “Children your age wear their hearts on their sleeves and don’t hide their intentions,” Yue said, changing the topic.  “They have no difficulty accessing the emotions that you grew up learning to stifle.  If you wish to be a kind, just ruler someday, you must relearn how to be vulnerable and open. You must abandon the idea that rage and fear are all that will make you strong.”

              “But that’s where firebending comes from.  Anger.”

              “Is it?” Yue asked, cocking her head.  Zuko blinked.  “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

              “It sounds like you want me to stop being Fire Nation.”  Zuko rubbed the back of his neck.  “Which…I sort of already have.”

              “No.  The Fire Nation is no more inherently bad than any other creed.”  Yue put a hand on Zuko’s back.  “It has a rich culture whose good aspects have been masked by the bad ones for a hundred years.”  She began to fade.  “Our time is coming to an end.”

              “What?  But you didn’t- you didn’t tell me anything!” Zuko protested.  Yue began to float away.

              “I did.”

              “No, you-”  Zuko huffed. “What am I supposed to do?  Am I even going to return to my proper age?”

              “That’s something only you can control,” Yue said softly.

              “Wait!” Zuko shouted at the spirit.  She was growing smaller, moving away from him, back to the moon hanging in the sky. “Wait!”  He got to his feet clumsily.  “That’s not a real answer, it’s-”  His already precarious balance on the rail failed as the ship hit a rough wave. Zuko toppled forward, falling overboard.

              Again.

              At least he was rescued quicker this time.  Ranalok had seen him lose his balance and fished him out of the ocean immediately.  Tuluk stood ready nearby with a towel.

              “Kid, you have to think of some new ways to drive us up the wall,” Tuluk said as he removed Zuko’s dripping outerwear.  Thankfully, he didn’t take off all of Zuko’s clothes, even though every stitch was drenched.  The crewman allowed Zuko some of the piddling amount of dignity the former prince had left. He wrapped Zuko tightly in the towel and dragged him to the infirmary.

              When Kustaa awoke and saw the soaked boy, he merely raised a silent eyebrow.

              “The baby badger-viper fell overboard,” Tuluk explained.  Kustaa sighed.  “Hopefully he won’t get sick this time.”

              “Hopefully,” Kustaa repeated.  Tuluk left.  Kustaa turned so that Zuko could undress and dry off.  “You realize what this means, right?”

              “…No,” Zuko said warily, scrubbing his hair with the towel.

              “Your clothes need to dry again.”  Zuko froze.  “Including your favorite coat.  So…” Zuko scowled as the coat he did not like one bit was tossed at him.  “Time to dress up like a pygmy puma.”

[atzsslut]

hey ma just wanna come out here and ask 😨🤨 where and how do get your inspo for your smut? it’s oddly specific girl

ahahaha …. ahahahahaha……….. experience.

so incase yall were wondering.. it’s deadass experience. it sounds arrogant to say but my sex life produces a lot of content BABDHAHDHSHD

i’d honestly say that some if not most of my smuts are inspired by.. my own “events”

JUST TO CLARIFY MY DILF FICS DO NOT MEAN I HAVE SLEPT WITH MY FRIEND’S DAD I WOULD NEVER DO THAT and I DID NOT SLEEP WITH MY BOSS LIKE IN PUMA BLUE OKAY

however .. sharing is caring … ;)

ANYWAYSSSSSSS i’ve said too much. thank you for the question babes :)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ love, alex

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: An Invitation (Henry x Reader)

Summary: AU in which Henry is a literature professor at an University and you sneak into one of his classes one day.

Author’s notes: so this was inspired by that video of Henry reading The Witcher and a conversation with dear @fanficsrusz​. And if anyone of curious, the poem he’s reading is Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda and it’s one of my favorite poems of all time.

Wordcount: 1694

Warnings: smut (rough sex; tiny bit of bondage; dirty talk; d/s undertones)

You weren’t supposed to be there. You had so much to do, but as you walked by the door of his classroom his voice reached your ears, rich and smooth; velvet and deep and you couldn’t help but sneak into the room.

It was no surprise the room was packed to its capacity. Henry was a great professor and very popular with the students of the university. It also wasn’t a surprise that most of the population was female or the way all eyes were trailed on him, transfixed. The room was completely silent with the exception of his voice as he read the poem.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

His eyes were trailed on the book in his hands, completely focused, but every once in a while he would look up, his blue eyes shining and piercing as he glanced around the room entranced by him. You knew he could recite this one by heart, but Henry liked to have the book. It gave him comfort as his fingers traced the page almost like a caress.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

You paid no attention to the words, just the cadence of his voice as you let your mind wander as you were sure many others in the room were doing too. Picturing all the things they wanted Henry to do to them.

You could see it now, him whispering in your ear the dirtiest things in at same captivating voice, his fingers exploring your body, tracing your freckles like they were a constellation and he wanted to know which shape they would make. His fingertips deliciously rough against your smooth skin.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

Henry paused in his reading, wetting his lips, letting just the tip of his tongue peek out and you could picture the wicked ways it could make you fall apart, exploring the depths of you; chasing your taste like it was the most delectable treat imaginable.

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

You pressed your legs together to ease some of the ache in your center. You were soaked, your breathing slightly difficult and you knew if you look at yourself in the mirror you’d be flushed pink with arousal, skin feverish, coated with the begins of perspiration.

“That’s it for tonight,” Henry announced closing the book and you heard several disappointed sighs as he smiled a little and moved to his table.

The room filled with the noise of chairs scraping on the floorboard and zippers and chit-chatter but that was not enough to break the spell on you. You made your way down and closer to his table, waiting patiently while Henry talked to a couple of students before his blue gaze finally laid on you, his lips tilting into a surprised smile.

“Professor,” you greeted even though you weren’t his student. Not anymore at least.

“I don’t remember you’re being signed up for this class,” he commented, his eyes narrowing and you grinned.

“I’m not, but could I have a word?”

“Of course,” Henry agreed just as another student caught his attention and he gave up a quick apologetic glance. “Wait in my office?.”

With a nod, you made your way to the door to the left, closing it behind yourself as you browsed the titles on his overstuffed bookcase, a smile on your lips because this place was exactly as you remembered, right to the smell of old paper, leather and his spicy aftershave.

You took a seat on his desk, facing the door, legs slightly spread, the hem of your black skirt falling to your midthigh. You unbuttoned the buttons of your shirt, letting it fall open, revealing your bra. You knew you were toeing the line here, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“So, what did you want to talk to me…”

Henry trailed off as he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind himself, his eyes widening behind his glasses, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took the sight of you. He breathing out your name like a small prayer.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, professor?” you asked with an arched eyebrow and a smirk.  

“We can’t.”

“We can,” you insisted, pulling your skirt higher, spreading your legs wider. “It’s late. No one will know.”

You could see his resolve crumbling as his eyes felt to your thighs; by the way his breath caught in his throat and how he reached behind himself to blindly lock the door before Henry stalked to you.

“You are…” he paused letting out a shaky sigh and his eyes drank you in. The way your shirt framed your lingerie; how you were so exposed but not revealing anything at the same time. Just an invitation. “A fucking temptation.”

His lips crashed on yours with hunger and desperation, like he was trying to devour you. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming your mouth, while his large hands grabbed and squeezed your thighs, making you moan.

One of your hands buried in his hair, the other coming around his middle, pulling him closer until you could feel him pressed against your cunt. You felt how his touch inched upwards, under your skirt until he reached your center, running his thumb over the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Dirty girl,” he whispered against your mouth. “Did you get this wet from listening to me?”

“Yes. You think I was the only one?”

“You’re the only one who gets to do this,” Henry replied, looking deep in your eyes and you shivered at his words, at the intensity of his gaze, before you pulled him down for another kiss and two of his fingers slid inside you.

He was precise in his movements, swallowing your moans as he fucked you with his fingers and rubbed circles on your clit, bringing you to the brink just to pull his fingers back, making you whine in discontent.

“That was just to get you ready, darling,” he said, his lips drawing into a smirk.

Henry roughly pulled you to your feet, turning you around and pushing your face-first onto the desk. One large hand took hold of your wrists, holding them behind your back, while the other raised your skirt and pulled your panties down, leaving you exposed.

You panted in anticipation, hearing the sound of his belt coming undone, followed by his zipper and then silence with the exception of your ragged breathing.

“You’re waiting for a formal invitation or…” your words turned into a small yelp as he smacked your ass, making you jump and wetness slick down your thighs.

“Did I say you could speak?” Henry growled in your ear, smacking you again and you cried out, pressing your legs together at the throbbing need building inside you. You shook your head, biting your lip to keep the words in.

His hand landed on your ass again, making you jolt before it soothed the sting with a caress, moving between your legs and rubbing against your folds, making you whimper.

“So needy,” he whispered, his strong body covering yours and you could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your slit. “My needy little slut.”

You moaned aloud, half due to his words, half to the way he pushed inside you and Henry had to cover your mouth with his hand, muffle your sounds.

“Loud little slut,” he chuckled, pushing to fingers inside your mouth. “Do you want someone to catch us?”

You shook your head as best as you could, before pushing back against him and sucking on his fingers, trying to get him to move. You couldn’t wait anymore. You needed him right now. Fortunately, Henry didn’t tease you any longer, thrusting hard and fast, just like you liked it.

His office filled with your muffled moans; his grunts and curses and the sound of skin slapping skin wetly. The smell of your arousal surrounded you along with Henry’s sweat, making your head dizzy with want.

You couldn’t, even if you want to, focus on anything other than the union of your bodies and the overwhelming pleasure taking over you, making heat coil tight in your lower belly, your legs quake, your breath come in harsh pants.

Henry let go of your wrists to bring his fingers to your clit, rubbing and flicking it. Your hands fisted on your back as your pleasure overflowed and you came with a muffled cry of his name, moments before he tensed too and you felt him spilling inside you.

For a moment, you stayed like that, catching your breath. Henry releasing your mouth and the two of your basked in the afterglow until you felt a sharp, throbbing pain.

“Fuck! My arm is cramping. Get off.”

Henry moved away, helping to stand up on shaky legs and move to the small couch, his hands massaging your biceps and shoulder to ease the pain.

“Better?” he asked, kissing your neck and you nodded, looking back at him with a smile. “This was… interesting.” Henry arched an eyebrow at you. “Professor?”

“Needy little slut?” you shot back mimicking his expression and Henry blushed, his gaze escaping yours. “It was hot.”

“It was,” he agreed, kissing you softly and bringing you to rest against his chest. You settled comfortably against him, enjoying the way Henry hummed softly against your temple, his fingers entwined with yours, the golden band on your ring fingers shining in the light of the office.

“Maybe I should stop by your classes more often, professor Cavill.”

“Maybe you should, Mrs. Cavill.”

xxx

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[fairytrashmother]

I posted 2,609 times in 2021

102 posts created (4%)

2507 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 24.6 posts.

I added 131 tags in 2021

#star wars - 23 posts

#wheel of time - 19 posts

#please - 18 posts

#star wars: rebels - 18 posts

#yes - 11 posts

#jewish witchers - 10 posts

#eli vanto - 9 posts

#lambden - 9 posts

#spoilers: wheel of time - 7 posts

#my fic - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#he reminds me very much of a dog that can't be rehomed but like. you don't blame it for biting people so you just try to make it comfortabl

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

A fun thing about cat Witchers is that we joke about them having house cat tendencies, but it’s unlikely that the mages would have chosen house cat when there’s several species of big cat that are available, right? Except none of those purr, they roar.

UNLESS we wanna talk about the mages fucking up and choosing a lesser cat that looks impressive as all fuck like, say, the cheetah. Which DOES purr (and meow), can reach shocking speeds for short periods but tucker out pretty easily, and have the worst fucking anxiety all the time, to the point that the ones in captivity need emotional support dogs to feel comfortable enough to breed.

Which means of course that I absolutely HC that either all cat Witchers have cheetah genes, or (more fun) that they’d experimented with assorted cats, found them to be too cliquish (lions) or too isolationist (tigers, pumas, bobcats), and settled on cheetahs just in time to Aiden and the younger cats to take the trials

So you end up with shocking disparity between their cat weirdness. Some love to swim, some hate it violently. Some love to lay around in groups and some never want to see your face again (unless they’re horny and coming back to the caravan for that). Some snarl and roar, and some purr up a storm when they’re excited.

And of course, Lambert is Aiden’s emotional support pup wolf. Aiden get the zoomies, he’s way faster, but Lambert is built for endurance travel and Aiden has to tap out first. Aiden is the hyper vigilant one and wakes up from a dead sleep if a squirrel farts, but Lambert pets his hair until he falls asleep again. And Lambert is fine looking like he fell out of a tree but the need to groom is SO STRONG that Aiden has built room into his personal grooming routine to manhandle Lambert and groom him too

68 notes • Posted 2021-02-05 13:52:12 GMT

#4

By Any Other Name

(Rated T, also on Ao3)

[Redacted because I can't put it all under a readmore and it's too long]

91 notes • Posted 2021-04-05 18:21:12 GMT

#3

Please send help, I’m on this webinar and they MEAN to say “track your spending” and “measure your spending” but apparently someone businessy decided the more “technical” (read: douchy) way to say it is to shorten it to “spend”

This dude keeps insisting we need to track and measure our spend

And I’m fucking

DYING

93 notes • Posted 2021-01-12 19:14:46 GMT

#2

It is an absolute fact that Lambert’s Yiddish cursing is off the charts impressive

93 notes • Posted 2021-01-21 02:00:03 GMT

#1

Honor Roll (B-Roll)

For @greyduckgreygoose​ based on her tags on this post. Modern AU, with magic, but Ciri actually has to go to school. (read it on A03)

No warnings apply

[Redacted because I can't put it all under a readmore and it's too long]

97 notes • Posted 2021-04-07 19:56:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[iapislazuli]

as someone who doesnt nessecarily LIKE lanque but does want to understand him bc i have a penchant for trying to write fics for characters with weird or unclear characterization,your characterization of him in your jade care rewrite was very helpful and insightful!

thank you so much!! 

I didn’t want to change much of how he acted on the surface since i think he’s got a nice role carved out in the group dynamic (the cool, flippant, rebellious older brother, who acts as an antagonistic force to the others). but i really wanted to get thinking on why he’d act like that, why he’d hate bronya and lynera so much. i wanted to differentiate him from daraya, too. daraya’s much younger than him and their issues and backstory are FAR different from lanque’s. lanque’s the cool guy and a rebel, while daraya is..... way more of a weird kid than they are a “cool” kid. they’re not weird in a quirky or easily digestible way, either. i like to think any troll who actually talks to them comes away with the impression of “wow, this kid is really fucking strange”

the main difference between lanque and daraya is.. welll, lanque is the hungry puma that’s been stalking you through the jungle for the last 3 days. daraya is the tiny, incredibly pissed off alley cat that hisses at you and tries to bite you every day when you walk past it on your way to work. lanque acts intimidating because he wants people to think he’s cool. daraya acts intimidating because they want to be left alone. 

[dogcopter]

@dogcopter Steven Universe ficmasterpost

(January 2021). I wanted to join in after seeing @mimik-u‘s list and others! I wrote more SU fic in 2020 than I realized. It’s been fun sharing a space with everyone. Thanks for all the encouragement. :^)

Heavy on the Pearl/Rose and Pearl & Rose content, and mostly angst and humor here!

series: shy rose AU / dogcopter dream diary 

Canon-compliant “Rose Quartz redemption arc” AU. Ongoing series with a few self-contained complete fics.

Sensible (Pearl, complete.) A story about Pearl growing up on Homeworld and her decision to become a Crystal Gem.

“She’s not... so bad,” Pearl says, warily. “Mostly we ignore one another,” she admits.

“Sounds like mine,” says the orange pearl.

Emergent (Rose, complete.) Shy Rose Quartz enrolls in Little Homeschool and struggles to launch.

“You probably need a minute to process your existential crisis,” Peridot suggested. “Take your time. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Rose didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded, and for the second day in a row turned tail and ran from the greenhouse.

Sixpacked (Volley, Rose, complete.) Direct sequel to Emergent. Volley’s best friend comes clean.

VOLLEY

I hate that commercial.

ROSE

Really? I have it memorized.

VOLLEY

It’s not a complete or accurate explanation of Little Homeschool.

of the first water (Jasper, incomplete.) Jasper slice of life in Little Homeworld. Chapters: 1/6. Last updated July 2020.

Of course. The strong cactus they’d encountered. “That’s Steven’s plant,” Jasper said. “I spoke to it yesterday.”

& Ice Games excerpt. (Rose and Bismuth) Rose starting to get her feet wet with Little Homeschool’s community organizations.

standalone fics

Imaginary Friend (Pearl/Rose, incomplete, Updated Dec 2020) Chapter 1/?: An alternate Crystal Gem Rebellion AU in which Pearl and Pink Diamond never visited the surface together.

After the mysterious disappearance of Pink Diamond, her Pearl narrowly dodges refurbishment and strikes out on her own, hiding from the developing invasion of planet Earth. While making her way across the surface, waiting for word of her diamond’s whereabouts, Pearl strikes up a partnership with a strange Quartz in a similar predicament.

Candle-holder, moth, or flame? (Pearlrose) Several universes in which Pearl and Rose avoid an honest feelings talk and one in which they don’t have to. (Written for trope bingo, prompt tags were “mutual pining x fake relationship”. and i managed to fit the whole bingo card.)

“Sorry, nope. You’re all out of healing tears.”

Rose dripped snot on her character sheet. “Huh?”

“She’s right,” Pearl said. (“Of course I am,” said Peridot, anime glasses sticking out over the top of her three-story diorama like two giant yellow blades of Perspex grass.) “You used your last phial on my broken arm. At the Sea Shrine, remember? I told you not to do it.”

The Gardener’s Lover (Past Pearl/Rose, complete.) Non-canon AU. After Rose is gone, Pearl grapples with her grief in the form of their overgrown garden.

For the length of one lifetime, Pearl and Rose lived together in a home in earshot of the sea. At the end of this lifetime, Rose left Pearl behind in the fall.

Pearl buried her in a flowerbed, per Rose’s wishes. She retreated into their home and shut the doors and windows to all seasound. Winter came, and knocked, and went. The garden fell asleep.

Clusterfuck (Explicit. NSFW.) (Cluster, post-canon)

She remains unconvinced by sole personhood. It’s not easy getting to know oneself anew. Even single, several, fewer, fumbling to feel herself, formed, she hasn’t yet achieved the clarity of that rare bliss of FORM. Nothing compares to she-cluster and she-Cluster feeling in unison. The memory of extending her diamond-high hand together has become addiction.

misc/short fic (discord sprints and stuff)

I was the one she told everything!! Rose’s Scabbard drabble.

The Trial 2 (Rose lives AU) Post-canon drabbles of uncomfortable conversations following Rose’s return.

Cheetah Win (Stevonnie underground wrestling/puma cub AU). Stevonnie gets caught sneaking out to brawl.

Mysterious Transfer Student (Shy Rose AU oneshot). Rose’s first day of Little Homeschool.

3am in the batcave (Connie and Steven). Connie and Lion visit Rose’s secret armory and stumble on Steven.

Connverse pit trap meet-cute (Connverse Fantasy AU). Connie catches a boy in a pit trap. Turns out he’s magic.

Escapism (Canon drabble, Rose is Lion). Lion brings Steven home to Greg.

KBCS(?) Instagram (Canon drabble, SU movie). A photo of Connie and Lion saving the town on social media.

It’s Movie Time!! Steven’s Back!!! (KBCS) An (Onion, possible AU) KBCS entry about Steven Universe the Movie.

[marvels-writings]

It’s Just a Little Crush

Carol Danvers x Reader, Highschool AU

Requested by Anon: Can I request a carol x reader highshool fic where carol is the cool girl who has a huge crush on the reader the shy reserved girl. Her friends (the avengers) always tease her about her crush and put her in situations where she has to interact with her crush. Despite being the cool girl she gets so flustered around her crush and doesn’t know how to act normal, she’s pretty sure she’s in love and she had barely had a full conversation with her. Please make it as fluffy and romantic as possible.

Word Count: 1,532

A/N: Love highschool AU’s, here you go!

“I swear to god I hate algebra.” Carol groaned, slamming her head down on the desk, the sleeves of her letterman jacket scratching her face a little.

Her friends next to her laughed at her behavior before continuing on their homework. Natasha elbowed Carol’s side and she looked up at the redhead with a frown.

“What?” Carol whined, Natasha smirked, which was never a good sign.

“Your crush is walking over here,” Natasha commented, then pretended to get back to her work.

“And why would she do that?” Carol whispered urgently, trying to act normal and glaring at Natasha while fixing her jacket and brushing off her leggings, fixing her short hair and pulling out a few strands to dangle in front of her eyes before nervously pushing them back.

“Because Clint is calling her over.” Natasha winked at the blonde and got back to her algebra paper.

Before Carol could say anything back to Natasha, you walked over to her and asked the redhead if she needed any help, since Clint had practically been begging you for help earlier. Natasha grinned at you and said she didn’t, but Carol might.

“You really should move to our table, Carol’s hopeless at math,” Natasha remarked, you laughed as Carol elbowed her side lightly, subtly looking at you.

You wore a grey cardigan, a fav/color v-neck t-shirt, smoke grey ripped jeans, and black puma shoes. It was a simple outfit, but it looked gorgeous on you, your hair was let down, the soft hair/color hair falling onto your shoulders.

“That hopeless?” You asked, a shy smile on your face, Natasha nodded and lifted Carol’s paper to show you.

“It’s blank.” You commented the blonde glared at Natasha behind the paper before she set it down.

“Point in case, Clint already dragged your chair over here anyway.” Natasha shrugged, you turned around to find your bag slung on the back of a chair which was set up right behind you, you laughed and sat down, leaning over the desk to help Carol.

“Well, the first question isn’t that bad.” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning back in your chair to look at Carol who looked completely stunned.

“Do you want me to give you the answers or explain it?” You asked Natasha leaned back in her chair, her head popping up behind Carol’s shoulder.

“If you explain it she might not need to copy the answers from us later.” She gestured to the rest of the team behind her, you laughed and went back to the paper, burying one hand in your hair and pointing the pencil to some of the numbers while explaining.

Carol was half focusing on what you were saying, most of her attention was on the way you bit your lip when you concentrated, the small strands of hair falling in your face which you kept pushing back, how you smiled and the way your eyes sparkled when you figured out the answer. You asked her in the middle of your explanation if she was understanding, Carol nodded, but at the end when you asked her what the answer was after explaining, she had no idea.

You raised an eyebrow, “You’re serious? I just explained it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just not that great at math,” Carrol confessed, rubbing her neck bashfully, you rolled your eyes and started explaining again when the bell cut you off.

“Next time then.” You sighed, moving to pack up your things and put the chair back, Carol couldn’t help but be disappointed when you left.

“Y/n, you should come with us,” Tony shouted from across the room, you turned to face him, your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Really? But I told Peter I’d go get a bite with him.” You answered, walking out of the classroom doors with them.

“Peter said he was planning to hang out with us after, might as well come,” Natasha stated, smirking when she saw Carol’s blush.

“Might as well.” You shrugged nervously, biting the inside of your cheek and inhaling sharply as you followed them towards their lockers.

Their group was one of the most popular on campus, they called themselves the Avengers, Peter hung out with Tony a lot and invited you sometimes. You mainly knew them because you let them copy your work often and because Carol tried to talk to you often. But you’d never really been invited to hang out with them before, you mostly opted to talk with Ned and MJ.

Once they got to their lockers, Peter joined you and clapped you on the back while grinning and eating a burrito. Tony pulled out a speaker out of nowhere and started plugging it in with Peter’s help, ‘Crush’ by Jennifer Paige started playing through the speakers.

“This song is so old,” Carol muttered, leaning back against one of the lockers, you stood next to her, nervously fidgeting with your hands.

“It’s a classic, the remix by Campsite Dream is also decent.” You thought aloud, you and Carol started talking about music when you Tony started playing ‘Iron Man’ by Black Sabbath.

“I seriously doubt it’s worse than this,” Carol commented, gesturing to the speakers, Tony glared at her before backing away.

“Bet,” You grinned and went towards the speakers, finding the song you’d just mentioned before playing it.

Tony frowned when you changed the song, but it transformed into a grin when he realized what song you were playing. Peter recognized it instantly, the rest of the group took a few seconds to realize but smirked when they recognized the song. You shyly smirked and blew a kiss to Carol before increasing the volume

‘See you blowin' me a kiss

It doesn't take a scientist

To understand what's goin' on baby’

Carol blushed and shrunk into the lockers, pulling her letterman jacket around herself. You were about to leave to put your things in your locker but Natasha stopped you, demanding that you stay and talk to Carol. You complained about the cold a little, pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself.

‘If you see something in my eye

Let's not over analyze

Don't go too deep with it baby’

Carol noticed how cold you were and shrugged off her jacket to reveal a white NIN t-shirt under it, offering you the jacket with a bit of hope in her eyes. You looked at her but shrugged and accepted the jacket, taking off your cardigan and shoving it inside your bag before putting on her jacket and tugging it around yourself, it smelt amazing.

‘So let it be

What it'll be

Don't make a fuss and go crazy over you and me’

The rest of the break was left with both of you talking while the music played softly in the background, Carol said the vocals were a bit choppy but the music itself was pretty good. Though she wouldn’t admit it, this was the first decent conversation she had with you. She couldn’t help but smile the entire conversation at the sight of you wearing her jacket.

‘Here's what I'll do

I'll play the wuss, not like we have a date with destiny’

Natasha noticed both of you and whispered something to Wanda, the brunette grinned at her and headed over to both of you, changing the conversation.

“Are you both free on Friday at 7?” She asked, you shrugged and nodded, Carol did the same, a light frown ghosting her face.

“Good, enjoy your date!” She said, grinning and walking off.

“Did she just…” You trailed off, Carol’s face was a bright red when she turned to face you, stuttering over her words before moving to chase after Wanda, when you stopped her by her wrist.

“If you want to, you don’t need to stop her.” You said softly, Carol’s eyes widened and she grinned at you, moving to lean back against the lockers, heart beating fast when she noticed you hadn’t let go of her wrist yet.

‘It's just

A little crush

Not like I faint, every time we touch’

Carol swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest when you motioned for her to sit down, still holding her hand. The blonde gently put her hand on top of yours as you nervously played with her fingers while talking about how boring the math teacher was.

‘It's just some little thing

Not like everything I do

Depends on you’

The bell rang, you got up and moved to take the jacket off and give it back to Carol when she stopped you.

“Just wear it, I don’t have practice anyway, do you want to hang out after school?” Carol asked hesitantly, hazel eyes staring at the floor nervously.

“I’d love to.” You grinned at her, tucking a strand of her short hair back into place before walking towards your next class, leaving Carol staring.

She made a mental note to cancel her practice later on, you were more than just a little crush

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart  , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: Thoughts?

[ti-bae-rius]

Ty and Irene fic

Probs read GOTSM first. This is based on my own situation with my self-trained therapy cat as well as a lot of secondary research and talking to other therapy animal owners. Yeet. 

CW/TW for meltdowns/panic attacks (and a bit of involuntary injury as a result)

“Have you ever considered training Irene to do therapy?”

Ty looked across at where Anush was on the floor, tickling Irene’s stomach. The fur there was completely white in contrast to her grey and black coat. Ty clicked his teeth at her as she locked her claws around Anush’s arm, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just shook her free fondly.

“Therapy?” Ty asked, puzzled. Perhaps he’d heard wrong; he had been reading at the same time after all. “But she can’t speak.”

Anush laughed. “Not talking therapy – animal therapy.”

Ty’s stele rolled off the end of his bed as he readjusted, trying to get comfortable. Irene set about scrabbling under the bed and returned with the stele between her teeth, depositing it expectantly before Ty, who rewarded her with ear scratches.

“See? She’s already so smart,” Anush pointed out. “It would be easy to train her.”

“She is a very fast learner,” Ty considered, which was true. When she’d grown big and healthy enough, he’d started letting her out onto Dimmet Tarn, calling her name until she learnt to come back. Now, when he had classes, he let her out to explore and hunt with Livvy keeping an eye on her, and before dinner he’d call her back to him. She always came. In fact, recently, she’d begun waiting in the treeline for him, bounding out as soon as he shouted her and barrelling happily into his legs. Maybe Anush was right. He usually was.

Anush was a year older than Ty and one of the wisest people he’d ever met. People often tried to sell you on how great they were, Ty found, but not Anush. He’d told Ty all about being in the Cohort, about the fact he’d been in the group who tortured Kieran. Nevertheless, Ty liked him anyway. He was honest and loyal and showed Ty all the tips and tricks of the Scholomance – which professors to befriend and how, secret tunnels, special archival collections. Besides, when Livvy had gone to Devon and Ty was in the infirmary, Anush had looked after Irene and brought just the right Sherlock Holmes book from Ty’s shelf to cheer him up, points which Ty thought very important in a potential friend.

He rubbed the chain of the heron necklace he always wore across his lips. Livvy’s locket hung on his noticeboard, pinned in place. Now that Livvy was here with him, it didn’t seem right. When the locket was all he had left, it had rested permanently against his chest, but now he’d hung it up so she could share it. It was hers, after all. Instead, the heron pendant hung around his neck. He tried not to think too much about its original owner, all the way in Devon. It hurt too badly. However, the necklace was a handy and subtle fidget toy, so Ty wore it. And sure, maybe a bit for him, but that made his chest ache to dwell on. He had a new life, far away from Ty and all their history. Maybe it was time Ty stopped waiting for him to come back.

“So what do you think?”

Ty gave Anush a look and Irene made one of her growls of contentment, hopping up onto the bed beside Ty. He nodded, tickling Irene’s chin absently.

“It sounds good,” Ty agreed. “It’s a great idea. So, how does it work?”

 Anush knew a lot about therapy animals, but then Anush knew a lot about most things. As he’d told Ty, his father had been an occupational therapist before meeting Anush’s mother and ascending to be with her. He’d taught Anush parts of what he’d studied for so many years, and now Anush was teaching Ty by extrapolating his father’s knowledge. Lateral application of knowledge was something Ty found strangely attractive, particularly when the person doing it was as good-looking as Anush. But every time he felt himself feeling like that towards Anush, his heart would race and he’d remember what happened last time. He hadn’t cared about Ty. That was obvious. Moving to the other side of the world was a tacit message even Ty couldn’t misread.

Together, Ty and Anush had made a list of things Ty could use some help with, and ways Irene could assist. As it turned out, Ty had been right; she was a fast learner. Within a couple of months, Irene was well-trained to help her owner as and when, growing bigger day by day, and exploring further into the woods. Still, Ty worried.

“Do you think she’s small?”

Livvy, floating just above the snow, glanced across. Before, when she hovered just above the snow banks, she’d be taller than Ty. However, in the months since arriving at the Scholomance, her twin had hit one growth spurt after another and now stood just a little taller than her. Stubbornly, she lifted a couple of inches more off the ground to match his height.

“Irene?” Livvy asked, cocking her head. “I don’t know. How big are Carpathian lynxes meant to be?”

“I mean, she’s less than a year old – eight months probably. They’re not a big species but she does look little. I think she was a runt and being so ill when you found her has stunted her development,” Ty told her, watching the kitten play, stamping down snow with her big paws and shaking lingering flakes from her fur. Livvy supposed she did look kind of small, but Ty didn’t seem to love her any less for it. If anything, he seemed more protective of her, and more able to relate in some way. An outsider.

“I’m really glad you have her,” Livvy said and Ty glanced up at her quizzically, prompting her to explain further. “I can’t do some of the stuff for you that I used to, stuff that helped you. I’m glad Irene can lend a hand.”

“Or a paw,” Ty grinned, and Livvy smiled.

“Or that,” she agreed, and tried not to feel too sad that she was less helpful in her current state than a lynx was.

“I wouldn’t have her if you hadn’t found her,” Ty pointed out and Livvy felt her gaze soften. People sometimes said Ty wasn’t very perceptive to how others were feeling, but Livvy had always disagreed; he always knew just what to say to cheer her up. If she could, she’d have hugged him. Instead, she floated a little closer and returned the gesture when he gave her a smile warm enough to melt the snow beneath their feet.

 Ty had written to Julian asking if he could bring his pet home. They’d been hesitant until he explained – she lived in his room, she was no trouble and, besides, he didn’t have anyone to look after her until he got back. However, when he stepped through the portal home at the end of his first year, his family looked ill-prepared for Irene. Ty looked around at the others, staring silently, until Dru broke the silence with a burst of laughter.

“Brilliant!” she giggled, head thrown back. “Amazing! By the Angel, Julian thought it was a fish. I was betting on a lizard. No one guessed ‘tiny puma’ though did they?”

“She’s not a puma. She’s a Carpathian lynx,” Ty responded, looking almost offended. “Look at her. She doesn’t even look like a puma. Look at her ears!” Dru snorted.

Helen took a deep breath and smiled. “We’ll make it work. We’re just glad you’re home, Ty. How’s your first year been?”

Ty didn’t answer. It was strange being home in L.A., too warm and loud and crowded. He loved his family, but it was a lot all at once, and he felt distant and overwhelmed. A familiar feeling on his hand made him look down. Irene was licking his palm and nudging her head into his fingers. He forced his breath to even out and rubbed Irene’s ears between his thumb and forefinger, twiddling the tuft of black hair that tipped them, making her purr.

“I need to go and unpack,” Ty told his family. “I’ll come back down and talk after.”

He picked up his bags and set off upstairs, Irene trailing at his ankles. Julian leaned against the hearth he stood beside, smiling. It was good, after so long, to see Ty’s face again.

 Upstairs, Ty rested his back against his bedroom door and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling shaky. Just one wall away was Livvy’s room, the bed she’d never sleep in again. For fifteen years, Ty had spent half of his time in that room with Livvy. They sat in her bed and watched documentaries together, fell asleep sat up with the laptop balanced between them. She never set an alarm in the mornings because Ty knocked on her door to wake her. She shoved notes under his door before they got phones to organise secret twin meetings on the roof. Now, Livvy’s ghost lingered in her room and Ty felt her pain in his own heart. It felt like he could hear her crying from the next room, though he knew that wasn’t possible. His breath was coming in gasps.

Pressure on his legs made him glance down. Irene was in her hind legs, pawing at him, and he sat down in acquiescence. Ty raised a hand to his mouth, chewing nervously at his knuckles, but Irene batted at his hand with a paw, whining.

“Sorry, Irene,” Ty mumbled and pulled her into his lap, letting her warm body provide relaxing pressure. His chin slumped to his chest and she butted at his brow with hers, chirruping soothingly. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking his fingers through her soft fur, and his breath began to even out.

It was somewhat of a surprise when Ty opened his door to see who was knocking to find Tavvy there.

“Can I pet your cat?” Tavvy asked, smiling sweetly. One of his bottom front teeth had fallen out and his gappy smile only added to the illusion he was younger than he was. Ty nodded and clicked his teeth to beckon Irene, who was cleaning her paws on Ty’s bed. Tavvy held out a hand for Irene to sniff and stroked her head happily. “Hello kitty!” Tavvy said, and Ty’s heart twisted. It was too much like his name. He hurried to correct Tavvy.

“Her name is Irene.”

“Can we bring her downstairs to show the others?” Tavvy asked. Ty hesitated but nodded.

“Sure. She could do with being let outside for a while anyway.”

Tavvy whooped and set off downstairs, calling Irene after him. She stayed loyally by Ty’s feet until he patted her on the back, at which point she scampered off after Tavvy, Ty following a beat behind.

 Livvy lingered nearby as Ty sat with the others on the beach. He knew how separated she felt, unable to bridge the gap between them and her. She would have to live vicariously through her twin forever, and it was all his fault.

“Hey, Ty,” Julian said, sitting down beside him on the sand. “How are you doing?”

Pulled from his reverie, Ty nodded before realising it wasn’t a yes or no question. “I’m okay,” Ty smiled, unsure whether or not he sounded convincing. “How was your travel year with Emma?”

Julian’s face broke into a grin and gazed off to where Emma was dancing through the surf with Cristina. She and Kieran had accompanied Mark on his trip home to see Ty back from the Scholomance. Emma and Cristina clung to each other, laughing in the small, white-tipped waves that splashed at their ankles. For years, Emma had been afraid of the ocean, but she seemed perfectly at peace with it now. Perhaps time did heal, Ty considered hopefully. Or love.

His chest twinged.

He hardly took in the photos Jules was showing him on his phone from their travel year. Emma pretending to push over the leaning tower of Pisa, Julian at the Louvre looking at some beautiful art, the two of them kissing under the Grecian sunset.

“Hey, what’s that?”

Ty’s hand faltered where he rubbed the necklace chain between his fingers.

“Livvy’s locket,” Ty said quickly, but Julian had caught hold of the charm before Ty could shove it down the front of his shirt.

“A bird,” Julian said, ignoring Ty’s comment. “I never would’ve expected that. A bee perhaps. Or a lynx.” He grinned. Ty didn’t return the gesture.

“It was a gift,” he muttered, feeling increasingly hot and breathless. Ty studiously avoided all mention of him or things that might act as a reminder. When Livvy tried to talk about it, he put his headphones on. When Anush asked about his life before the Scholomance, he skimmed right over that month – a month; how had they only known each other a month? – and he knew Anush didn’t press because it was around the time Livvy died. Ty felt bad that wasn’t the reason why that time ached with an intensity that hollowed out his bones. When other Centurions talked about their girlfriends back home, when he saw people kissing in alcoves or passing coy notes accompanied by shy blushes in class, he pretended it didn’t exist. Because that should’ve been him – could’ve been him. Livvy had told Ty to write him a letter, but he couldn’t. Writing a letter, even a completely platonic apology letter, would still feel like a poor imitation of the letter he wanted to write.

“Oh, a gift?” Jules asked, and a teasing smirk crept across his mouth, curling his lips up in a grin. “Anyone special?”

Ty felt Livvy’s head whip round, could see Julian mouth that he was just kidding, but he could hear anything. No, that wasn’t true; it was just that the one thing he could hear was the one voice he wished to every day saying the thing Ty wished he could forget:

‘You only care what’s best for you.’

‘You raised Livvy for you, not for her or anyone else.’

‘You knew the damage it might do.’

‘You only thought of yourself.’

‘I wish I’d never known you.’

 He’d cried when Kit had said it, but he was sobbing now, his whole body shaking like a bowstring just loosed. His hands were in fists at his temples but shook so violently they dug into his brow and the corners of his eyes, making his vision blur. He was almost glad for it because every other sense was being bombarded. The sea salt smelt more like saline, stinging his nose and making it smell coppery and bloody. The cold air tasted sharp and choked him as he tried to draw in breaths, like swallowing sharp stones that scraped his throat raw on the way down. Julian was trying to touch something at the sweaty nape of Ty’s neck, but the sensation made him writhe away, groaning. He could hear faceless, blurry people approaching, saying his name and asking questions and by the Angel he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe hecouldn’tbreathe.

A growl made its way through the cloud of voices and noises that flooded Ty’s brain. The sand shifted beneath him like someone had moved. Hunching over, head on his knees, was starting to make his body cramp, but that was so far down the list of frightening physical sensations he was experiencing right now it hardly registered.

Something hit his forehead, nudged against it insistently. He lifted his chin fractionally and something wedged under it, and his throat opened a little so the rocks in his throat didn’t feel quite so big or sharp. When a pressure on his chest pressed him to lie back, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t wriggle away when a weight settled on his chest, purring, and licking his hand where it rested over his racing heart. After a while, he stroked Irene’s fur with his free hand.

“I’m okay,” Ty rasped, voice tight and scratchy. His tongue felt fat and useless. With some effort, he willed his eyes to open, wincing at the sunlight. He covered his face with a hand and glanced around, spotting his family a few feet away, looking concerned.

“Ty?” Mark said, taking a step forward. Ty struggled up, dusting the sand from his hair. It felt matted and chalky. A chain dangled from Mark’s fingers and Irene batted at it curiously with a paw. Ty took the chain and squinted at the rusty-looking clasp.

“Is that blood?” Ty asked, and Mark nodded.

“Can I put an Iratze on your neck?” he asked. Ty put a hand to his nape and winced. “I think you were trying to take it off, but your hands were all numb and shaky. You just caught yourself a few times. Can I rune it?”

Ty held his hair aside so Mark could press the stele to his skin. He flinched a little but the pain subsided quickly.

“A heron?” Mark asked, looking at the charm. “Who gave you a heron necklace?”

“Oh…God…” Emma said, putting a hand over her mouth, and dawning realisation broke across Julian’s face at the same time. However, it was Tavvy who broke the moment, much to Ty’s relief.

“Irene is so smart.” He knelt down in the sand by Ty and she climbed into the younger boy’s lap, her big paws kneading inquisitively into the sand.

“She is,” Dru agreed. “Like a weird little genius puma.”

“Not a puma,” Ty retorted.

“I have to be honest, when you arrived with her I was a little apprehensive,” Helen admitted. “But she’s good for you. You’re good for each other.”

Irene clambered off Tavvy and ran down the beach towards the shore, making Ty look over to where Livvy was crouched in the waves, watching her family from a distance.

“What’s she seen?” Emma asked and Ty shrugged, smiling as Livvy bent to Irene, her phantom limbs patting the lynx regardless of their corporeality.