#adding that since it does inevitably come up here

[zoot-marimba]

After Post-COVID, we can very safely say that Thomas is Craig's biological father, the two look way too much alike for that not to be the case.

I will say that I initially figured Laura Tucker dyes her hair blonde, but then I remembered that Tricia's hair color is strawberry blonde-a hair color that usually comes from having one red haired parent and one blonde parent. Therefore, it seems fairly certain that Laura is a natural blonde, and we can obviously say that Tricia is definitely Thomas and Laura's kid by blood.

However, going back to Post-COVID, it is worth noting that while Craig is a dead ringer for Thomas at that age, there's nothing you can really point to as coming from his mother. Contrast that with Tweek, who has characteristics in common with both of his parents.

I will say that at least in the Dandyverse, I do lean towards Craig coming from a previous relationship of Thomas', with her and Thomas having separate some time after Craig's birth and that she later died. Besides the aforementioned details regarding Adult Craig's resemblance to either parent, there's a few other factors that went into the decision to go this route:

1. It could explain Craig's ties to Incan and Peruvian culture. Yes, that was likely meant to poke fun at the White Savior trope, but Mr. Kim was also initially meant to simply be a satirical take on Asian stereotypes prior to the big reveal with him.

2. It would certainly explain a lot about Thomas and Craig's relationship. The thing that I feel a lot of people miss and particularly fanfic writers miss when writing Thomas is that he isn't this mean or abusive asshole. If anything, he's arguably among the more nuanced parents on the show, certainly in terms of how he fits into the "good" or "bad" categories of parenting. As shown in "Tweek x Craig", Thomas very much does love his son, but he also clearly struggles in opening up emotionally (which might be the biggest thing he and his son have in common).

3. It could also add some context to Craig's behavior in the early seasons. In those seasons, Craig was known as the kid who was constantly getting into trouble, almost always just outside of either Principal Victoria's office or Mr. Mackey's. That's literally why he was singled out as being one of the kids set up to fight in "Tweek vs Craig". While a lot of it did come from Craig's struggles to deal with his emotions in a healthy or productive way, the loss of his birth mother could easily have served as the last straw in this regard. It also could explain Craig gradually mellowing out once the kids entered fourth grade as by then, enough time had passed.

4. Even though this post is meant to be about Craig's family and his relationship with his parents, I can even see this adding a fair bit to his and Clyde's relationship. While they were already friends beforehand (not hurt by having grown up on the same block), I can easily see Clyde turning to Craig for support after his own mother's death. Other than maybe Cartman (and even Clyde isn't stupid enough to turn to CARTMAN for emotional support), Craig is about the only other kid that Clyde knows that could possibly understand what it's like. Likewise, Craig can also open up to Clyde in a way that he struggles to with his dad (and can't really do with Tricia since Thomas's ex wasn't her mom), so he too would probably find it cathartic.

So yeah. That's all I've got to say about that.

Actually, putting this in a post in case the blog page ever disappears

[broken image was the thumbnail for The Magic Bush as it appeared on Hulu at the time]

and the best part, linking to the now defunct forums page that I didn't archive when we were saving pages last year :))))) Source

[drabbles-mc]

It's Inevitable

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, alcohol

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: rubatosis- the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: i had the most ridiculous about of fun writing this for Bob. i adore him more than words can say 🥰

Bob felt like he had been living in a constant state of disbelief ever since he met you. From the day that the universe, or more specifically Bradley, put him into your orbit, all the events that followed felt like one little surprise after the other. He considered himself infinitely lucky for it.

When he mentioned to Bradley off-hand that they were going to have him stationed in California for a while, long enough for him to justify looking for his own place off-base, he had just been making conversation. They had just been talking about next moves and Bob felt like it was fitting, mentioning that he was going to be looking for a place, maybe even a roommate since it was going to be on relatively short-notice.

“If you’re cool with a roommate, one of my buddies actually kinda needs one,” Bradley mentioned off-hand as they racked up for another pool game at The Hard Deck.

Bob perked up slightly at that. A roommate recommendation from someone he knew seemed preferable than the alternative. He figured that Bradley wouldn’t have brought it up if it was a recipe for disaster.

“Yeah?” Bob tried to sound interested, but not too much so. There were no real guarantees, after all.

Bradley nodded before leaning down to break for the start of the game. “Yeah. Funny because we were just talking about how putting out a Craigslist Ad felt like signing up to be on an episode of a True Crime podcast.”

Bob chuckled at that. “Kind of does, yeah.”

Bradley watched Bob take his shot, not allowing the amusement he was currently feeling to show on his face. “I can introduce you guys. Wanna meet back here Friday? When Trace is done making an example out of you to the newbies?”

There was no malice to Bradley’s statement, so Bob had no problem laughing right along with him. When the laughter died down, Bob agreed to the meetup suggestion. There was a tentative feeling of hopefulness in his chest. After all, if this person was friends with Bradley, how bad could they really be?

~*~

You buried your face in your hands as you shook your head. When Bradley had asked to stop by because he had news for you, you didn’t think he was stopping by to tell you that he had gone out hunting and gathering a new roommate for you. You hadn’t asked him to do that—you hadn’t asked him for anything in regards to your living arrangements, actually. And that’s exactly what you’d told him when he said he’d found you a brand-new roommate.

“I don’t even know this guy.”

Bradley laughed and shrugged as he hopped up to sit on the edge of your kitchen counter. For how comfortable he was, you were surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to move in after your ex moved out. He treated your apartment like it was his own house anyway.

“I know him. That’s not enough for you?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder as you went and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. “No. It’s not.” You tossed him his own can before getting one for yourself. “You saw what I went through getting the last man out of my apartment—why are you inviting another one in without telling me?”

He laughed as he watched you dramatically swing the refrigerator door shut. “Okay, come on, you can’t compare him to—”

“I can’t compare him to anyone because I haven’t met him.”

“Well if you’d let me get to the end of my story, you would have the solution to that problem.” He paused and waited for you to motion for him to continue before saying, “I told him we’d meet him at The Hard Deck Friday night.”

“I should flatten this can against your skull,” you said with a semi-affectionate roll of your eyes.

There was a long pause, one accompanied by a smirk on Bradley’s face that had no real right to be there. “I’ll pick you up?”

Letting out a deep sigh, you gave in with a nod. Worst case scenario, you wouldn’t walk away from the night with a new roommate but you’d at least get to throw a couple drinks on Bradley’s tab. That was worth a little bit of something.

~*~

Bob was checking the time on his phone, his beer on the bar barely touched. When he’d texted Bradley earlier in the day, everything was still going how it was supposed to, so now he just had to sit there and wait. He could do that.

When he heard the door to the bar open, he turned and looked out of habit. He saw Bradley walk in and he felt his shoulders relax in relief. When he focused enough to see who it was that Bradley had walked in with, though, his relief was almost immediately replaced by confusion. The two of you were talking, laughing as you wove through the other people in the bar, but it still didn’t sink in with Bob that you were the ‘buddy’ who was in need of a roommate. For a moment he was just assuming that you were a girlfriend tagging along that Bradley had failed to mention.

Bob almost got up out of his seat when the two of you stopped in front of him—the only thing that kept him in place was the lingering sense of confusion. He looked back and forth between you and Bradley. He had no chance at guessing what exactly your expression meant, but he’d seen the smug look on Bradley’s face enough times to know that there was something afoot. It wasn’t the time to ask, though. Not in front of you.

“So,” you broke the silence with an easy smile, “I hear that Bradshaw promised you my second bedroom?”

Your comment got a chuckle out of Bob, something to ease the tension a little bit, not that it did anything to quiet the chaos in his head at the moment. It did earn you a shoulder-bump from Bradley, who was shaking his head at you. “I didn’t promise him anything. He said he needed a spot, I said I had a friend who needed a roommate.” He shrugged. “All true.”

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes before returning your attention to the man sitting on the barstool watching all of this unfold. As you introduced yourself, you wondered if the slightly bewildered expression on his face was a constant one, eyes a little wide behind the lenses of his glasses, nervous smile pulling at his lips.

The three of you made a few minutes of small talk before you ducked out for a moment to answer a phone call from work. Both men watched you as you walked away, and as you were bringing the phone to your ear, Bradley turned to try and pick apart the expression on Bob’s face.

“So?” he asked, leaving it as open-ended as possible.

Bob pried his gaze off you so that he was looking at the man standing next to him instead. He shook his head slightly. “You didn’t say—you made it seem like—” He pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he had yet to shake.

Bradley laughed. “C’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Bob corrected him quietly. “She wouldn’t rather have…you know…”

It was impossible for him not to at least chuckle at the way Bob was skirting around the things that he wanted to say. “She just wants someone who doesn’t make a mess and who pays rent on time. And who won’t eat her leftovers out of the fridge.”

“Last one sounds like you.”

He clapped Bob on the back with a grin. “That’s why I’m not the one moving in.” He paused, and he could see the thoughts going at a mile a minute in Bob’s head. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think you guys would hit it off.”

Bob wanted to make a comment to the effect of, “That’s kind of what I’m worried about,” but you reappeared before he could.

You plopped down on the stool beside his, giving a quick apology to the both of them. Looking back and forth between them, you wanted to ask what they’d been saying in your absence, but you had a feeling that if you needed to know, Bradley would tell you in the car on the way home.

Moments after you sat down, Penny materialized with a drink for you, and she handed a bottle to Bradley as well. You thanked her, amused that Bradley actually was letting you rack up his tab. Once you took a sip, you turned to Bob.

“So, is this the part where we get to play Twenty Questions?”

He laughed as he shrugged, fingers drumming against his leg. “I guess so.”

You smiled as you nodded. “Alright.” You motioned for Bradley to sit down next to you. “Bradshaw can play referee.”

~*~

Three weeks later the moving truck was parked outside your apartment building and there were boxes piling up in what had previously been a spare room that was sometimes your office, but more often just a place for all of your clean but unfolded laundry to hang out.

Bob was timid those first couple of weeks living together. It was endearing in a way that you hadn’t expected—most of Bradley’s friends from the Navy didn’t seem to be wired like that. Bob was a nice change of pace from it all. Every time he wanted to move or add something somewhere, he always asked, always had that same little nervous smile on his face when he did.  You never told him no.

The first month or so of living together was just a big old learning curve. You learned that the two of you ran on different rhythms and schedules. Bob was an early bird, whether that was by choice or necessity you never asked. You were a night owl, though. Always had been. Luckily, you also learned that Bob was a heavy sleeper and that he was quiet in the morning when he was getting ready, so the two of you didn’t infringe upon each other much.

You learned that Bob liked to cook, was good at it even, but still hadn’t mastered how to just cook for one. That was how he learned that you had no problem doing the dishes if he was okay with sharing his food. He never told you no either.

Bob learned that most of your spare time was spent with your nose in a book or a notebook splayed across your lap while you wrote. He only ever asked once what you were writing, and when you gave him the vague answer of, “Stories,” he gave you a smile and a nod and went back to ironing his uniform. You learned that the only times Bob stayed up late was when he was playing videogames with his friends. Most of them were from the Navy, some of them were from back home. You knew which ones were which because his Navy friends had their callsigns in their gamertags—so original of them. That was also how you learned that a good handful of his friends in the Navy weren’t very good at first-person shooter games, which was deeply ironic given their professions.

By the time the third month of living together had come and gone, Bob also learned that he was falling in love with you a little bit. Or a lot. The amount of it didn’t matter, he supposed. None of it was going to help him.

~*~

You enjoyed living with Bob more than you thought you were going to. You had been willing to settle for a roommate that you could at least tolerate. You just needed someone that you could exist in the same space with sometimes when necessary. But after those first couple of weeks, it felt like almost all the time that the two of you were home at the same time was spent in the same space. Or you’d be in the living room while he was in the kitchen. You’d been ready to hole up in your room a little more often, but it never felt like you had to.

Bradley was as incessant as ever, arguing that he now had twice as many reasons to drop by unannounced now that Bob was living with you. You both knew that it was an argument you’d never win, and it wasn’t as though you didn’t enjoy his company too. By the time the first month passed, Bradley had lightened up on his weekly inquiry of, “Is this guy givin’ you any trouble?” You all knew that he never was.

You’d been waiting for the day that the surprised look would fade from Bob’s face whenever you got home, or emerged from your room, but it never did. From surprised, to smiling, to going back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there. Round and round again.

Bob never thought about how many different names he had until the two of you really got comfortable around each other. Most of the time he was Bob, which was what he was used to both on and off the base. That was the status quo.

But every now and then you’d switch it up. Like if he startled you coming home from his early-morning run, or if you didn’t hear him walk into the kitchen from his room. Then you’d call him Robert, in that fake-chastising tone that always had you trying not to laugh. Or sometimes, when he was getting frustrated about something that didn’t really matter too much in the grand scheme of things, you’d hit him with a little pat on the shoulder and a, “Calm down, Lieutenant Floyd.” And in moments like that he could hear it in your voice how long you and Bradley had been friends. If you tried to get his attention more than twice and still didn’t have any luck, that’s when he’d hear a sing-songy callout of Bobby coming from the other side of the apartment. That one always got both of you laughing.

You could’ve called him damn near anything, though, and he would’ve come running. He wondered how long he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it all.

~*~

The two of you had been living together for six months the first time he put his foot in his mouth about it. His only saving grace, if he could even try to call it that, was that he’d said it to Bradley and not directly to you.

It made Bradley completely miss his shot in their game of pool, but he didn’t even care. He stood upright, pointing at Bob from across the table with his pool stick. “What was that?”

Bob’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was turning beet red. He could feel the warmth racing up the column of his neck and into his cheeks. “N-nothing. I didn’t—nothing.”

Bradley’s grin was so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t crack clean open. “That was something.” He walked over, paying no mind to the fact that Bob was trying to look at anything but him. “She know? You say anything to her?”

Now it was Bob’s turn to miss his shot. His heart was beating fast enough that he thought it might short-out and stop working. If Rooster was trying to get some eye contact out of him, it certainly did the trick.

“No.” Bob’s answer managed to come out clear and timid all at once.

He leaned back casually against the edge of the pool table. “Why not?”

Bob shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “’Cause we’re roommates.”

“So?” Bradley let the look of disbelief on Bob’s face act as a response, and he continued. “You should tell her. Want me to tell her?”

Bob’s eyes popped open so wide that Bradley was shocked they didn’t break the lenses of his glasses. “Please don’t.”

“Want me to do some recon?” He stood upright again, no longer using the pool table for support. “Find out if she’s—”

“No.”

He chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. None of this was surprising to him, really. He knew it from the second that Bob saw you when the two of them walked into The Hard Deck that day. He was honestly a little surprised that it took this long for Bob to slip up to him about it. The kid looked like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“She hasn’t dated anyone since you moved in, has she?”

Bob shrugged. “No one that she’s brought around, at least. But she also just broke up with—”

Bradley waved off the sentence before Bob could even finish it. “That was almost eight months ago.” He paused, knowing that he had the answer to the question he was about to ask but it wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. “You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

The red in his cheeks got a little darker but he didn’t say anything, instead just shaking his head.

“So I’ll ask her,” Bradley said, like that was the only rational response to the evidence laid out before him.

“Don’t ask her.” Bob’s statement was somewhere between an order and a plea, not hitting either note quite right.

Bradley held his hands up in surrender, but the smirk still lingering on his face didn’t make the truce feel too believable. “Alright, fine. I won’t say anything. But, if you change your mind,” he lined up his next shot, “let me know.”

~*~

Bob never brought it up again. Truthfully, he was still kicking himself for letting any of it slip in the first place. He kept waiting for another comment, another question from Bradley. Anytime that he came over to the apartment, Bob felt himself get a little more on-edge. When he could hear the two of you on the phone, he couldn’t stop the way his heart started to beat a little faster. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Bradley to open his mouth and say something.

Weeks ticked by with Bob waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’d get home, or hang up the phone, and he’d sit there with bated breath. He’d try to look like he was focusing on his laptop, or the gaming controller in his hand, but he’d be watching you in his peripheral.

And, of course, you never said anything about it. Bradley apparently never said anything about it. For all the buttons that he liked to push, Bob couldn’t deny that he was surprised that his friend was managing to keep his mouth shut about this one. Maybe that was because Bradley had the feeling it was a lost cause. Bob tried not to think about it too much.

He definitely tried not to think about it on nights like tonight, when both of you were camped out together on the sofa. The original plan hadn’t really been for the two of you to watch a movie together—Bob had gotten home later than usual and you were already about ten minutes into the film when he walked through the door. He’d had every intention of just showering and going to bed, but when he saw you curled up on the couch, throw blanket across you and an oversized bowl of popcorn in your lap, suddenly sleep didn’t seem like such a big deal.

He’d leaned over the back of the couch, a smile stretching across his face as he said, “Gonna share that or should I make another bag?”

You yelped in surprise, nearly tossing the bowl full of popcorn in the process. “Robert!” You laughed, hand resting over your heart like that would get it to slow down. “You can’t do that when there is a serial killer on the screen.”

He cracked a grin. “Sorry.”

You held the bowl up for him to reach easier. “I will share though, despite your entrance.”

He’d grabbed a couple pieces of popcorn before walking off towards his room. “I’m just gonna get changed.”

“Okay.” You tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air and caught it in your mouth. “Hurry up before someone else dies.”

Now here you were, the only thing separating the two of you was the bowl of popcorn between you. Bob was paying enough attention to the movie to know what was going on, but he’d be lying if he tried to say that most of his attention was still going to you. Something about the fact that you’d chosen to put on a scary movie and yet you still seemed shocked every time something scary happened.

Like you were reading his thoughts, you spoke up as you half-covered your eyes. “I don’t know why I do this to myself.”

He chuckled. “We can put something else on.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m committed now. I need to know what happens.”

His smile grew a little wider, the rapid beat of his heart having nothing to do with what was happening on-screen. “Want me to tell you what happens?”

You looked over at him. “You’ve seen this before?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can probably still tell you what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but you were still smiling, still blocking part of your view of the television on purpose like that would stop the things on screen from happening. “Very funny.”

“I think—”

Whatever he was going to say next got lost somewhere between his brain and his lips because you were placing the bowl of popcorn in his lap and scooting closer to him. You leaned so that your head was resting against the outside of his arm, throw blanket pulled up to your chin. Your legs were pulled up onto the couch, half-curled underneath you as you situated yourself against him. There was no hesitation in any move that you made, and Bob was trying to figure out if he was dreaming, and if he wasn’t he was trying to figure out how to not spontaneously combust.

“If this gets any worse,” you said, looking up at him for a moment, “then I’ll ask for your predictions.”

He was glad it was dark enough in the living room so that you couldn’t see how red his face was. All you could really see was him nodding, the reflection of the television on his lenses. “O-okay.”

The two of you managed to make it to the end of the movie, but you were practically curled so far into him that Bob thought you were just going to melt right into his arm. He didn’t mind it—he wished that the movie had dragged on for a little longer.

When the credits started to roll, you let out a deep sigh of relief but you didn’t peel yourself away from him. Bob couldn’t help but to let out a quiet laugh. “This why I’ve never seen you watch a scary movie before?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like, twice a year I try to convince myself that I don’t get that scared.”

“It’s working real good, then,” he joked.

You laughed, blanket still pulled up over your shoulders. “I’d say so.”

He reached for the controller. “Want me to put something less scary on?”

You nodded, reaching out of you blanket cocoon to grab a handful of popcorn. “Yes please.”

He was expecting you to pull away once there was a comedy safely playing on-screen. He waited for the warmth of you and the blanket you were buried under to disappear. But it didn’t. You stayed there just like that, casually stealing one handful of popcorn at a time till there was nothing but kernels left.

You made it halfway through the next film before you looked up at him again and said, “You’re up way past your bedtime.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Just as he finished saying that, he yawned. You smiled. “You sure about that?”

He felt his face heat up. “I’m good.”

“Slumber party rules, you know. First one to fall asleep gets it.”

He felt himself melting back into the couch cushions a little more, body finally starting to relax more from tiredness than anything else. “What’s the punishment? Sharpie mustache?”

You laughed, resituating against him as you did. “No, no. That’d be too mean—can’t have you walking around looking like Bradshaw.”

~*~

When you woke up in the morning, you were still on the couch. Alone. You had a pillow propped nicely underneath your head and rather than the throw blanket that you’d been using during the movie, you had a real comforter draped over you. It took a moment for you to put it all together.

You got yourself half upright, propped up on your elbows. Through half-open lids you looked around the apartment, the kitchen and the living room. You could see that it was empty but even so you called out a groggy, raspy, “Bob?”

When you were met with silence, you fell back against the couch again. Dragging your hands across your eyes, you tried to wake yourself up a little more. You stared up at the ceiling, watching lights and shadows fly across it as cars drove by your building. People who were up and about much earlier than you.

You weren’t sure how much time you’d spent simply lying there debating whether or not you wanted to get off the couch and attempt to salvage what was left of your morning. Just as you were getting ready to peel the blanket off you when you heard the sound of keys in the lock on your apartment door.

For a moment you about to sit upright, but then you could hear how quietly and slowly he was trying to enter the apartment. All those mornings sneaking in quietly after his runs so he didn’t wake you, and this was the first time you were not only awake, but ready for it. You heard him toe off his shoes, heard the rustling of a bag that you were desperately hoping had donuts or bagels inside of it.

You were so busy being excited by the sound of iced coffee rattling against its cup that you almost missed the sound of Bob murmuring to himself. You couldn’t quiet make out what he was saying exactly, only that he was whispering to himself as he set things down on the counter. Waiting a moment, you strained your ear in hopes to get a better idea of what he was saying.

When he stopped talking altogether, you sat upright. His back was to you as he pulled the drinks from the tray they were in, opened up the bag of pastries he’d grabbed. You smiled at the sight of him, a warm flutter in your chest.

“Got enough to share?” you piped up.

For once it was Bob’s turn to flinch, to spin on his heel in shock. His eyes were wide, paper bag clutched tightly in his hand. He was certain that if his life had been a cartoon you would’ve seen the outline of his heart beating in his chest.

“Um, yeah.” He nodded, holding up one of the coffees as though to prove he was telling the truth. “Yours.”

Standing up off the couch, you kept the blanket wrapped around you like the most oversized shawl you’d ever seen as you padded over to where he was standing in the kitchen. Reaching out, you took the iced coffee from him, a smile on your face as you took a sip. It was impossible to miss the way that Bob was looking at you, looking like he had something to say. You waited for it, but it never came.

“Rehearsing lines?” you asked casually as you reached for the bag he was holding.

It seemed to snap him out of the trance he was in. “What?”

You pulled out one of the donuts in the bag. “When you came in,” you took a bite, “thought I heard you talking.”

His eyes widened a little bit, cheeks starting to flush pink. “Oh.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “What?”

He picked up his own cup of coffee. He stared at it for a moment, swirling it around to buy himself a few extra seconds. His heart was beating so hard that he was expecting it to cause ripples in the coffee he was holding.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat, looking you in the eyes, “yeah.”

You set your coffee down, suddenly feeling a little foolish with the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay.”

Your smile was soft, warm. “You sure? Looking a little wistful over there.” You saw the way a few sentences started and died on the tip of his tongue. Your lips started to dip down into a frown. “Bob?”

“I really, uh, I really like…living here with you.”

Something akin to relief was creeping its way across your chest and you allowed yourself a small smile. “I like you living here.” You tilted your head slightly. “Why do you look so worried about that?”

He managed a chuckle of sort. “Because,” with each word he tried to get out, he felt like his heart was going to beat clean out of his chest, like his ribs weren’t strong enough to keep it in place, “I don’t want that to change.”

“Why would it?”

“I love you,” he blurted out. “I…I love you.” The blush on his face darkened and he gave a weak smile. “That’s not how I rehearsed it.”

You let out a laugh, one that was choked with emotion. It felt impossible to get the words out that you wanted, like they were all getting stuck in the back of your throat. You could see it on Bob’s face that he was trying to come up with the next thing to say.

Before either of you could implode, you collapsed the distance between you and kissed him. The blanket that had been around your shoulders fell to the floor as your lips caught his. There was a split second of hesitation, but once Bob realized that it was real, that this was all happening, he wrapped his arms around you. His hands splayed across your back, pinning you tight to him.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, leaning into him until he was snug between you and the counter behind him. Bob soaked it is, the way it felt to have the warmth of your body pressed against his. He was certain that this would be the time you’d hear his racing heartbeat, be able to feel it since you were so close. For once he hoped that you would.

You pulled away, just enough to be able to get a good look at his face. He brought one hand up to fix his glasses, the other staying on the small of your back. You toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as you tried to commit everything about how he looked in that moment to memory.

“I love you too,” you said, voice soft when you finally had it in you to string the words together.

You saw the smile on his face and then you felt it as he kissed you again. It was all laughter and soft touches and wandering hands. Months of bottled up feelings starting to reach the surface. With your palm resting against his chest, you could feel the speed of his heartbeat, but he didn’t seem nervous now. For a moment you were surprised to find that you weren’t nervous either. Then you felt the pad of his thumb against your cheek as he pulled you in for another kiss and you finally felt like you were home. And there was nothing more comforting than that.

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of taglists please let me know!)

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s girlfriend and Rhea have a deep hatred for one another, leaving Damian in the middle to referee. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Overstimulation, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! Thank you so much to @miss-kuki-nz for being my muse 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @twistedprincess-92. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

“I am so tired of this bullshit,” Damian complained, unlocking the front door to his and his girlfriend’s home. He shoved it open, and no matter how angry he was, the man never forgot his manners, so he motioned for the tiny woman beside him to enter ahead of him.

Had she not been absolutely livid at the moment, she’d have swooned, as she was prone to doing, but as the situation stood, there would definitely be no swooning this time. “You and me both, babe,” she hissed as she passed him.

Damian slammed the door and locked it before stomping after her into the living room. He watched as she kicked her heels off and doffed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the couch. She crossed her arms, and he knew it was going to be a long night. “You’re acting like you’re the one that should be mad right now,” he said, motioning in her direction.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she asked evenly, brows in her hairline, and it was that perfectly held-together tone that gave Damian an ominous chill down his spine.

“Yeah, I’m saying you’re not. I’m the one that has to referee his girlfriend and his best friend every damn time we go out somewhere.”

“Oh, poor you,” his girlfriend spat. “At least you’re not the one getting called a golddigger!”

“She did not call you a golddigger.”

“Wait, no, you’re right. What she said was you’re just like all the rest. Like the girl you dated before me who spent all your money.”

“She’s just looking out for me.”

“Well, Damian, which is it? Did she not say it or is she protecting a six-foot-five grown ass man who can take care of himself?”

Damian’s hands came to his head but they dropped quickly. “You both literally want the same thing. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Maybe we do want the same thing, but she’s the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, great. Next you’re gonna tell me she’s the one that started it.”

“Actually, she did.”

Damian’s eyes went to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument again. It had been almost a year since he’d introduced the love of his life to his best friend, and ever since that day, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. Maybe the two women were simply too alike and would consequently never get along. So where did that leave him? He refused to choose between them, and he refused to allow them to bully him into choosing between them. Had they reached an impasse? Was this just supposed to be his life now? And when the couple inevitably got married, was Rhea not going to be invited?

“And what if I just say I’m done with it?” he suddenly asked, turning his head to look at his girlfriend.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Damian sighed. “Never mind.”

“You wanna be done with me?”

“I didn’t say—“

“The hell you didn’t. I’m not in Rhea’s cool book, so you’re just gonna toss me aside?”

“You’re not lis—”

“Fuck you, Damian.”

His brows rose and he nodded. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you.”

She stomped past him, glaring the whole way, and it was clear she didn’t want to be followed, nor did he particularly want to follow her. He knew the door slam was coming, but he still jumped just the same as he removed his jacket, dropping it over the back of the couch before he fell onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television knowing full well he wasn’t interested in watching anything.

He was all threats, and she knew it. He wasn’t going to break up with her, and he wasn’t going to sever ties with Rhea, either. He would live with it, he supposed, like he had been, spending the rest of his life hoping things would change. In the meantime, he’d have to keep them separated. Like children.

“Damian?”

Damian stirred, clearing his throat, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was now prone on the couch, one boot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Had he heard his name in a dream? He sat up, yawning, and arched his back to work out the kinks.

“Papí?” his girlfriend called again from upstairs.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, looking over his shoulder toward the staircase.

“Will you please come to bed?”

He smirked. Yeah, he was gonna live with it. He loved her too damn much. “I’m on my way.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, discovering a message from Rhea.

I love you, twin. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

Damian’s smile only grew and his heart swelled, but then realized his girlfriend hadn’t been the first one to apologize. Did that bother him? Did it really matter? He could build on this. Light at the end of the tunnel. He turned the TV off before climbing the stairs and made his way down the corridor toward their bedroom. The door was open and the lights were off save for the nightlight near the bed on her side—she’d never admitted to it, but she had at least a slight fear of the dark. She was in bed, under the blankets, facing him, the azure hue from the nightlight painting her face in blues and shadows. Damian took his clothes off and crawled under the blankets behind her, pulling her naked body to his. That distended heart of his promised to pop, as his girlfriend cuddled back into him, rubbing her ass against his cock, moaning when his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. Rhea and I can figure this out.”

Damian’s grin could have lit up the entire room. They are just alike. He kissed her neck softly, attacking her spots as his hand drifted along her body. She squirmed when he cupped her breast, rocking her hips against his. “I know you will,” he growled, omitting the text from Rhea. “Because you’re wonderful.” He pinched an already hard nipple, ripping a groan from deep in her throat. “And you’re perfect.” His stiffening cock thrust against the crack of her ass, and she reached back to clutch his hip over the blankets. “And you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggled. “You sweet-talker.”

“Mhmmm,” Damian mumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. His warm hand slid from her breast, the pads of his fingers skating along her abdomen, and she lifted her leg so those fingers could slip into her dampening pussy.

“Fuck,” she whined, tightening her thighs around his hand as she rode his digits. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she breathed. “I’m the one that screwed up.”

“That makes me right,” Damian boasted, “which means I get what I want. And this is what I want.” His middle finger slid inside her, her hips bucking to accept and bring him deeper. “I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before I even fuck that pussy.”

And he made good on his word, working her over with his fingers until she was trembling beside him not once, not twice, but three times, and by the third time, his girlfriend was a sobbing, quivering, begging-for-mercy mess. She almost protested when Damian began to slide his stiff manhood inside her, and maybe she did a little, but her objection was weak and unconvincing. His hand on her thigh lifted her leg in the air, she pivoted her hips, and her pussy sucked him deeper within her, Damian groaning.

“God, I can’t,” she all but wept, “I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated the words in time with Damian’s pumps, and he nuzzled her neck with tender kisses.

“Yes, you can,” Damian panted. “You’re doing so good. You can take just a little bit more.” He placed her leg gently on top of its twin, tightening her already impossibly tight cunt, and he squeezed her hip before thrusting into her. “That’s it,” he whispered, watching with wild eyes as his girlfriend fisted the sheets and bit down on the pillowcase, “take it for Papí.”

His girlfriend lurched, strangled sounds escaping her lips as her pussy pulsed around him. And that was enough to send Damian over the edge. He pressed his face to her hair and emptied himself inside her, his hips stuttering, pounding, pausing, thrusting again. After several moments, he tried to pull out, but she grabbed hold of him anyway she could, and that’s where he stayed.

“Don’t even think about moving for at least the next five to seven hours.”

Damian chuckled. “Little sensitive?”

His girlfriend scoffed. “You would be too if you just came three times in a row.”

“Oh, you didn’t cum while we were fucking? Let me fix that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, I don’t even know what Rhea and I are fighting about. I’m the one that needs protection from you.”

Damian laughed again. “I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you … jerk.” 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Mi vida - My life

[probablyreadinsmut]

The Giver

One shot Husband!Din Djarin x Wife!AfabReader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT. The helmet stays on baby let's gooooooooo. Established relationship. Porn with very little plot. Clitoral stimulation, multiple orgasms (F receiving), slight overstimulation, Unprotected PIV (No, bad don't do that) Thinly veiled mask kink, Breeding kink. Creampie. Contraception and family planning mentioned. Mandalorian pet names. Language (Swearing). Praise, dirty talk. Reader has hair but is in no other way described other than having breasts and a vagina.

A/N: This may or may not be inspired by real life events that may or may not have transpired a few nights ago because someone might have got their partner a Mando helmet for Christmas hehe

Masterlist

///

The ship was silent now.

The child had finally relented and gone to sleep. You'd tried for over an hour to settle him, reading to him, rocking him, singing to him, letting him use the force to steal that little metal ball from you. Nothing had worked.

Din could sense your frustration from all the way up in the cockpit. He'd felt guilty hearing the wails from the little one, followed by your gentle hushing and coos. You'd told him to concentrate on navigating the crest through a particularly crowded asteroid field and you'd go settle the child, planting a gentle kiss to the top of his helmet before you'd descended into the cargo hold.

The longer it went on the more he felt for you. You had always been patient and understanding with Grogu, even from day one when Din had bought him back with him from his mission, no questions needed to be asked. You'd known exactly why Din couldn't resist to bring him home.

Tonight though, your patience was being tested. The cries were high pitched and those big eyes were full of real tears. Sometimes you wished he could talk and tell you what was wrong, but he's no different to a human baby in that sense.

Eventually, Din had traversed safely past the asteroids, unable to withstand listening to the noise any longer, if it was deafening him from upstairs, he couldn't imagine what it was doing to your eardrums.

///

It had been about ten minutes since Din came and took over, scooping the child into his arms while telling you to go rest, you didn't even hesitate, darting off to the quiet confines of your shared bunk.

You didn't even bother to switch on the over head light, all you wanted right now was to lay in a dark, quiet room. Thanking the maker that the ordeal was finally over.

You're just about to doze off when the door hisses open, light from the hull flooding in makes you wince.

"I'm sorry Cyar'ika" Din steps inside, pressing the button to close the door behind him, plunging the space into darkness once more.

You hear the rustling of him removing his armour, with a few 'Kriffs' added in as he inevitably knocks into the wall.

Soon enough he's crawling into the bunk with you and you shift over to make space for him.

You feel his arm drape over your side, pulling you closer to him, helmet resting against the back of your head, old habits die hard.

His large ungloved hand slips under the hem of your shirt, gently kneading your soft tummy. It's a comfort thing he does sometimes, you've noticed.

A soft contented sigh leaves you as you feel yourself relaxing in his arms.

"Are you okay Cyar'ika? I know tonight was not easy, I'm just sorry I couldn't come help sooner, that asteroid field was treacherous."

"I'm okay now you're here. I don't think he wanted me at all tonight though, that much was clear. Ahh well, all part of being a parent, I suppose."

A modulated chuckle sounds behind you "I suppose it is, doesn't make it any less stressful though. I think I just got lucky with him truthfully. Though it's good practice for when we add another founding to the mix isn't it?"

You'd discussed having a baby before, you'd said the vows a long time ago, he was yours as much as you were his. However the logistics of having a child while Din does the work that he does had meant that you'd both put it on the back burner. Even if it had been on your mind a lot more these days.

You'd stocked up on a special contraceptive brew a while ago on one of the more modern planets, taking it religiously every morning after sharing an intimate encounter.

It was obvious however, that he wanted to get you pregnant, he made no secret of that.

"Yes but imagine two of that? I don't think I'd be able to wait a full hour for help while you steer us through an asteroid field before I start tearing my hair out."

"Cyar'ika, you know I have no intention of continuing this job when we have another foundling. I want to be completely present, I appreciate how you took Grogu on as your own and how good you are with him. But I'm no idiot, I know it's not easy."

You shift in the bunk to face him, laying on your side, your hands coming to rest on his chest "I do know that, you want to find your clan and help rebuild a settlement on a quiet planet somewhere, but we haven't found them yet, Din. I think we should keep waiting at least, until that happens. I know that's not what you want to hear."

"Mesh'la" He starts, lifting his hand to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you forget sometimes that with the helmet on he can see in the dark. "Of course, I respect that. I know it would be foolish to bring a child into all this, another one I mean. We'll wait, as long as we have to."

Thank goodness for that night vision, because he can see you smile right now, even after all this time it makes his heart skip a beat.

"Well I'm glad your desire to see me full of your babies hasn't clouded your judgement at least" The teasing in your tone has him grinning under his helmet.

"No, but a man can still dream can't he?" His voice lowers an octave as his hand drops to the waistband of your leggings, teasing his fingers along the elastic, it has the desired effect on you as you feel your pulse quicken.

"I never said he couldn't. Are you planning on taking that helmet off tonight or what?"

"Why would I do that, Mesh'la? I want to be able to see my wife's beautiful face when she cums for me." You're about to offer to put the overhead light on but he doesn't give you a chance, his hand slips under the waistband, dipping down to stroke your folds over your panties, eliciting a soft sigh from you. He can feel the growing wet patch through the cotton. "Yes I think I'll keep it on tonight, you like it anyway, don't you, ner kar'ta?"

He's anything but stupid, knowing exactly how to rile you up. If you were being honest with yourself, the helmet and the armour had been what first attracted you to him, you'd had no choice but to fall for the outer facade before you could see the man underneath and even though he was strikingly handsome, you could still got off when he kept the damn thing on.

It took you back to the earlier days of your relationship, before the vows you'd spoken that meant he could remove it in front of you, the sex had been electrifying, the mystery had added something to it and awakened a part of you that you didn't know existed until you'd met him.

"Keep it on, just this once" you coo, chasing the touch of his fingers with your hips.

"Just this once" He echoes as he presses his fingers tighter against your clit, making you whine foe him. "Needy already hm Cyar'ika? I can feel you soaking those panties. Lift your hips for me" He withdraws his hand as you do what he asks, lifting your hips for him to peel off your leggings and underwear in one go, tossing them away to the tiny patch of floor at the foot of the bunk.

His fingers slowly drift back up your thigh, making goose bumps break out across your body, even after all this time he still knows how to make your body react to him without even trying too hard.

Laying on your side still facing him, your legs part slightly as he reaches the apex of your thighs, teasing the coarse curls there for a moment before he slips a single digit between your folds, groaning lowly when he finds you drenched for him.

"Maker, I barely have to touch you and you're already a mess for me." He purrs as if he's at all surprised by that fact.

He starts off slow and light, circling your clit with the gentlest of pressure. "Does that feel good Mesh'la?"

"Yes, keep going... please." You breathe, your hand sliding down to cup his hardening cock over his pants.

With his free hand his plucks yours off him, gently pinning it above your head. "You first. I need you to cum for me first before I'll even consider letting you touch me." There it is, the assertive side of him that you love so much. "You're going to cum for me as many times as you can take and then I'm going to fuck you. Do you understand, Mesh'la? Nod if you understand." He commands as he adds more pressure to his touch, rubbing your clit in tighter circles now. You manage to nod dumbly as your little gasps and moans fill the bunk.

"So good for me, aren't you? Just let me make you take care of you now Cyar'ika" He drops his hand from your wrist, snaking it around your waist to pull you against him, his helmet pressing agaisnt your forehead.

You're sure your soft pants are fogging up his visor but he doesn't seem to care. Your arm loops around his neck holding onto him as he draws you closer and closer to the edge, feeling that first orgasm building even without needing to slip his fingers inside you. He knows your body inside and out by now, all your little cues are like reading a map to him.

"Din... I... I'm going to..." You tell him in a breathy whisper, as if he couldn't already tell by the way your leg is starting to shake.

"Shh I know, I know Mesh'la. Give it to me, cum for me." He doesn't change his rhythm in any way, keeping the pressure the same with the tight little circles, it's all enough to have you falling apart for him, head thrown back as you moan his name.

He doesn't slow or stop, guiding you through your release, groaning with you when he briefly slips his fingers down to your entrance feeling the flutters and pulsing as you clench around nothing.

"That's it. More Mesh'la, I know you can take more, can't you?" He circles your entrance a few times, collecting your juices before he swipes them back up to your swollen bud, continuing his ministrations.

"Mmhmm. Oh maker... Din... Shit... That's it just like that..." He's applied just the right pressure now and he knows that it won't be long before you're shattering for him once more, it's always the same after he coaxes the first one out of you. At first it had surprised you with how quick he could make you cum in such quick succession but now you revel in it.

And it's not long at all befoee he has you quaking in his arms again, holding you tightly against him. You forget momentarily that the helmets on as you go to kiss him, lips meeting Beskar instead. He let's out a breathy modulated chuckle, finding it adorable, he'll shower you with kisses later.

After that he just keeps going.

Another one.

And another.

And another.

By the fifth orgasm he's pulled from you, you're completely gone, writhing wildly agaisnt him as he works you through it, greedily wanting to bring you to climax one more time. Just one more time, it's always one more time.

But right now you can't, it's too much, you're gasping and angling your hips away from him, forcing him to stop, going boneless in his arms.

"Fuck... Okay... I'm done... I can't any more." you pant into the crook of his neck, both of his arms encircle you now, rubbing up and down your back in a soothing gesture.

"You did so good for me, Cyar'ika. So good. Do you think you can still take my cock or do you want to get some sleep?"

Your head whips up from where it was rested, looking down at him like he's insane. "Oh no no Djarin, you said you were going to fuck me so you'd better stick to that."

You just know his grin is ear to ear under the Beskar. "That's my girl. Turn over."

You oblige, pulling off your shirt as you shift onto your side facing away from him, the bunk is too small for more adventurous positions but you've both learned what works best over the years.

You hear a rustle of fabric behind you as he's taking off his pants, throwing them away from the bed realising quickly that he's also taken off his underwear when you feel his fat tip pressing firmly agaisnt your ass. Smart man.

You twist slightly, blindly reaching back in the dark wanting to touch him, he notices and grabs your hand guiding you to him. You feel him tense initially when your hand wraps around him, soon relaxing when you give him a few slow, experimental tugs. He's heavy in your hand like he always is, his girth hadn't surprised you considering he seemed to walk around like a man who had a reason to be so confident.

"Mesh'la... That feels good. But I need to be inside you, please." The want in his tone has you preening, he's so worked up from getting you off that he can't wait any longer.

You shift back, teasingly wiggling your ass against his cock, letting it slip between your cheeks, his hand flies out to grip your hip as he rocks against you in return, guiding him downwards with your hand to notch him at your entrance.

You move your hand away when he slowly starts to push inside, inch by inch letting you adjust to his thickness until he's buried deep in you.

"You feel so fucking perfect Cyar'ika.... So tight, like you were made for me."

"Din please, I need you to move now."

And he does, with slow, shallow thrusts, drawing back until just the tip of his cock is left inside you before he sinks back in. Keeping his rhythm steady and measured as he builds up to a pace that will have you both seeing stars.

You're rolling your hips back to meet his, his big hand is gripping your hip as he guides your movements, your combined moans and groans rising in volume.

It's not long before he loses control, unable to take it anymore with the noises you're making for him, slipping his free hand under your ribs to grope at your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and arch back into him.

"Harder Din, please!"

Your breathy whine goes straight to his cock, feeling the familiar tingle building at the base of his spine already.

Not yet. Not yet.

He obliges in your plea, gripping your hip so hard it'll leave indent marks as he thrust into you with more power and speed. The sound of flesh against flesh fills the room along with your cries and sobs of pleasure, desperately trying to match his rhythm still even as he all about takes full control.

He can feel you fluttering around him, the beginnings of your sixth orgasm creeping up on you, he loved that he had this hold on you. That he was the only one who got to make you fall to pieces like this.

"Do you hear how wet she is for me, Mesh'la" He groans in your ear and you do, you can hear how obscene it sounds as your cunt practically sucks him back in with every jut of his hips. "I'm going to fuck you full of me, would you like that hm? You want me to fill you up don't you? Have me dripping out of you all night long."

"Yes! Oh fuck yes. Din please!"

He pulls you back against him in his arms, driving into you with such ferocity that it has you dumb and pliant, unable to do anything but moan and take his cock.

"I've got you, Mesh'la. Cum for me, cum for me and I'll give you what you want."

With a silent scream, you do just that. Clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he quickly follows behind you, grunting in your ear as he spills inside you, coating your walls with hot, sticky ropes of his cum.

"Oh maker. Fuck... That was amazing..." Din murmur breathlessly behind you, slowly pulling out of your well used hole.

You whine quietly at the loss of him, feeling your combined releases dripping out of you.

You hear a soft hiss behind you, indicating that he's taking the helmet off, with a few shuffles as he sets it at the end of the bunk on the floor and then he's gently rolling you onto your back coaxing your legs to part.

It's a tender side that not many people get to see from him, only you and Grogu these days.

Pressing small kisses to your forehead as he cleans you up with what you assume is his undershirt.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" it's a light whisper against your skin, you're already succumbing to sleep, exhaustion from the events of the day along with the love you just received from you mandalorian husband, you manage a sleepy whisper in return.

"I love you too, Din"

Then you're out like a light.

And soon enough, so is he.

///

Cyar'ika - Darling/Beloved/Sweetheart

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Nur kar'ta - My heart

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - I love you

[zegrasdrysdale]

nh13 headcanons

fluff and smut

warning(s) : smut !

author’s note : day one of working w infants and toddlers at work and i am exhausted. i’m too tired to work on any of the full length fics rn but i wanted to give y’all something tonight so here y’all go :))

༺═──────────────═༻

fluff !!

Nico loves to call you nicknames in german. schatz and liebling are used frequently by Nico as they are both your favorite terms of endearment

obviously Nico favors them too

you pick up on little phrases in german when you’re around Nico when he goes back to Switzerland, when he talks with Timo, Jonas and Akira or when he’s on the phone with his family back home

you surprise Nico though by learning how to say “I love you” when you decided to tell him for the first time

you got help from Timo though because you wanted to make sure you got it right (and Nico has no idea)

Nico loves when you come to games

he thinks the ‘C’ looks better on your chest than his when you wear one of his jerseys at a game

you’re very close friends with Timo, Jonas and Akria since Nico is always with them (they call themselves the “Swiss Connection”)

Nico loves to hold your hand and touch you in public as soon as he can. stealing a kiss or two at a Devils event is one of his favorite things to do

his teammates like to call you “Mrs. Cap” for fun

he buys you gifts for no reason. sometimes when he goes on longer roadies, he’ll have flowers delivered to the apartment so you’ll know he’s thinking of you

you spend the summers with him in Switzerland and every season in New Jersey

you’re there for him every time he struggles with his captaincy. Nico will always come to you when he feels like he’s not enough / doesn’t deserve the C on his chest

he will always come to you when he’s in a slump, and you always listen

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

smut / nsfw !!

captain kink !! you (not so) accidentally called him “cap” one time while you were having sex and it made him short circuit. that’s how you both found out that Nico has a captain kink

he very much enjoys fucking you doggy style when you’re in his jersey

opposite of that, he does not like buying you a new jersey when he inevitably comes on the one you’re wearing bc you refuse to wear a jersey he came on

the two of you will absolutely sneak off at a Devils event when Nico isn’t needed to hook up in a closet or room farrrr away from the activities that are going on …

especially since Nico is very vocal during sex. he is not afraid to get loud and you often find yourself either covering his mouth with your hands or lips

kisses kisses and more kisses. Nico is a kisser when having sex. his lips will always find a way to yours

he’s more of a giver than receiver. his girl’s pleasure is more important than his own, but he’s not against a blowjob when the two of you are in a rush or you want to reward him for a good game or a goal

Nico will never be rough with you after a bad game. he is always so gentle with you …

unless you tell him that he can use your body to get off. then he doesn’t hold back

you aren’t able to walk the next day

he keeps his hair long because he knows you like to hold onto his locks

Nico defaults to german during sex. he sometimes can’t speak english when in bed with you (another way you pick up german phrases. those phrases are mostly curses though so you know how to curse in swiss german)

morning sex after he gets back in the middle of the night from a roadie … and before he leaves for a long roadie

phone sex is always a necessity when he’s gone, especially when he’s gone for long periods of time

༺═──────────────═༻

HC MASTERLIST

want me to write a hc ? check out the guidelines for the list of players i write for !

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taglist: @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @naughty-box @memandi

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ CH. 1 TEASER

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you. 『 series masterlist 』

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: none!

✧ NOTES: aaaah!!! i was going to wait a little while to drop this but i couldn't resist. consider this an introduction to the boys! i hope that this is a suitable teaser to kick off the series. this teaser is un-beta'd thus far, so wording is subject to change when i reach the editing stage. please feel free to sound off in the replies or my inbox with thoughts/questions! <3

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 733 words

✧ STATUS: ch. 1 scheduled to drop on nov. 6, 2024!

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, drummer, and Kim Taehyung, bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough. 

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses. 

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way. 

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photodumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them. 

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion. 

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Some of my headcanons on Sanguinius

I have lot of thought about this man, so here I go: 1) Personally headcanon that Sanguinius doesn't have hawk wings, he has owl wings. Specifically that of a snowy owl considering how Sanguinius' wings are described as being pure white, I feel like it makes sense for him have the wings since he's not albino. This does give Sanguinius the ability to fly completely silently. I imagine he doesn't actually make much noise in flight, unless one counts the wind from his massive ass wings. 2) Has hollow bones. Freaky, but would make sense, likely means he weighs much less then he looks. Don't get me wrong, bastard is still heavy as shit. Doesn't really affect him much, his regeneration takes care of any downside it may have on him. Sanguinius is entirely unaware of this until he gets his legs broken, and sometimes his Sons end up with hollow bones. This is usually discovered when the Apothocary discovers an alarming amount of weight loss only for the Neophyte to be completely fine; just very confused. 3) How he acts around others, and how he is as a person, are two separate things. He is most certainly a kind person, that's not fake, what is fake is the way he tends to end up being much more pure then he truly is. He's not fully aware of it, as it was likely a defense mechanism developed when he was a child. Clams up around his brothers as a result of it, and holds them at arms length. Most don't realize this, because he's not like Lion who is just cold towards everyone, or like Perturabo who is actively paranoid. 4) Adding onto the previous, his insecurities are the reason behind his behavior and fears rejection. He knows how mutants are seen within the Imperium. He fears that if he doesn't act nice, that if he actually shows the more darker sides of his personality, he'll end up the same way as so many other mutants. Being a psyker does not help this fear in the slightest. Just makes it worse tbh. 5) The absolute king of repressing his emotions. Man repressed the red thirst so hard, he barely feels it and if he does, he shoves that shit right back down. This is also part of why his anger is the way it is. He represses it and then when it comes inevitably out, it's been stewing for sometimes decades at a time. This is also why the black rage is the way it is. Half of it is because yes, killing something like Sanguinius is going to have repercussions, however on the other end Sanguinius had a lot of built up rage that he just sort of swept to the side. 6) Does actually feel the red thirst pretty strongly but as I said before, he represses that shit. This has probably in resulted in him going months without and having an exasperated apothecary shoving a bottle of blood into his hands. He does have his favourite serfs that he likes the blood of best, but he also doesn't really drink from them because unsurprisingly he needs a lot of blood. Used to get it mostly from animals on Baal. Tends to be sneaky about it out of shame. 7) His wings are very sensitive and he doesn't really like people touching them. Absolutely hates it when he's petted on his wings, though that largely depends on whose doing it. Tends to prefer preening his wings himself, though he does have a serf who tends to his wings when he's having a really bad moult.

8) Didn't realize that his wings were supposed to be white for a long time. Genuinely thought they were just a pale orangey red. Found out later that it was because they were straight up just full of sand. This is mostly because for the longest time he just did dust baths. It worked for the most part though he much prefers normal baths. He finds his skin is much less itchy and he can fly faster then before. Will dust bathe on desert planets. Why he does it is anyone's guess. 9) Doesn't enjoy the fact that he has to have special accommodations for his wings. Fulgrim learned the hard way that if Sanguinius is on the Pride of the Emperor, he needs to have an area for Sanguinius, or Sanguinius can and will knock shit over with his wings. Usually he's pretty good about not doing it, but never trust a Sanguinius that's running off of half an hours sleep that was three days ago and hasn't had any sleep for three weeks before that. Fulgrim learned this the hard way and they both agreed to never speak of it again.

10) Can be nippy, especially with his Sons, they have long learned that this is just what happens when Sanguinius is half-asleep and hasn't quite woken up properly but wants to show that he cares. They don't say anything about it, and some of them think it's actually kind of cute. 11) Loves shiny things. Doesn't steal, he has enough self control, but does deeply enjoy wearing shiny jewelry. It has escaped no one that if one gifts Sanguinius jewelry he will fluff and ruffle his wings happily. This is adorable, and some people wonder if he's just secretly a particularly large corvid.

Also adding @moociaoafterdark since they have seem to love my thoughts on this oversized bird of a man

[yi3248]

what’s your favorite roach headcanon?

hi anon!! sorry it took so long. your ask came in just as i decided to rewatch mw2 gameplay to refresh my memory so it took a While, but its finally here! it's a bit messy. feel free to ask if there's something specific you want an opinion of :D

i subscribe to the headcanon that he is selectively mute

was found hiding in a closet, somehow chilling with a cockroach in there

on another note, he finds the closet to be a comfortable place to be in, when everything gets too much. a makeshift barrier from everything

likes smooth peanut butter

when he was in primary school, while dropping him off, his mom got fed up with his nonverbal responses. parked near the gates, wants to know why he was being so difficult

(it wasnt on purpose. he wasnt trying to be difficult. he felt so exposed, through the windows, like other students could just know why he was locked in there, why they were taking too long to simply drop off someone)

hates tomatoes

likes the sweet kind of chili sauce

wears whatever graphic tees at his disposal when on leave

does dress up once in a while though, but like, for wildly mundane occasions

i want to say he has slightly bad vision (near-sighted) but its corrected with his goggles. doesnt wear the goggles on base, when hes not in immediate battle

either skips leg days, or hes the type who has difficulty building strength in his lower limbs

still trying to reason out why he failed 2 jumps lmao. since he was able to shake his pursuers in hornet’s nest, his running and jumping muscles should also be adequate. maybe as mactavish’s journal says, his gear was weighing him down (dear god, there was a lot of parallels mactavish drew in btwn him and roach)

likes snow. likes any snow activities. doesnt like how it freezes him though

probably hid in the toilet when there was a fire drill evacuation practice at school

roach and mactavish wouldve spend some time in the same room, quietly jotting out their thoughts on the mission in their respective journals

or even lets their frustration shine through. about their lack of ability to be better, to be more efficient (this was a common theme in mactavish’s journal. regrets and aftermaths)

a steady hand forces him to stop engraving his regrets deeply into a page. eyes snap up, mouth ready to follow along until he meets roach’s heavy gaze. he huffs, the exhaled air carrying some of his tension away, the shroud of distress slowly dissipates, but it lingers

he has his own team, and the burden, the need to watch them get through to the other end all safe and sound is so juxtaposed in their career. it is inevitable, but he can still try. they can be better, stronger, less chances to be picked off

he shakes his head, patting roach’s arm. “what? yer want to take a gander at my words?” he tuts, closes his journal with a snap, a wry smirk on his face. “go put that curiousity to proper work.” he ushers roach to the training area, ignoring roach’s pointed look of distaste

(dimly, he wonders if he will follow in price’s footsteps. if roach will assimilate some of his habits to remember him, in some sort of way. we’re all amalgamations of all the people we have met, naturally)

((as he yells into the comms for an answer that never comes, he doesnt have a chance to find out))

hates the water on base. it tastes different

somehow enjoys playing the mobile ads games more than the actual game

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Bingo Celebration: Love Letters - Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @lostinwonderland314

When Mitch was away on the rodeo circuit, he used to write you love letters. They weren’t much, scribbled lyrics, places he’d wanted to take you, how much he was missing you at the time. He would always address them ‘To my sunshine’ before sealing them up in an envelope with a kiss and placing them in the mailbox.

You never wrote back, there was no point, he would already have moved on to the next town by the time you did. Instead you sent him voice notes, snippets of you singing his songs and Mitch he would been on top of the world when he went out into that arena, because the sound of your voice was music to his ears.

Now it’s a decade later and Mitch is sifting through a shoebox filled with memories that had long since been forgotten. The two of you have gotten a little house near The Buck, one with a yard for the dog you’ve been begging him to consider. It’s going to happen, he knows it is, he just likes to pretend you haven’t gotten him wrapped around your little finger.

“I didn’t know you still had these.” Mitch says as he studies the postage stamps.

Mississippi, Nevada, Kansas and many more. He hadn’t realised he’d gotten around so much back in the day.

 Your chin comes to rest on his shoulder as you raise up on tip toes to survey them.

“I used to get them out from time to time when I was missing you.” You confess, your arms wrapping around his waist, holding him close. “I could play those songs in my sleep by the time I got back to Tulsa.”

Hearing that, it does a little something to Mitch. He’s had his troubles over the years, the injury, the drugs, his incarceration, he thought he’d fucked things up for good after that second stint in rehab but the two of you, you were always inevitable, like the sun raising in the east and setting in the west.

“Do you think you could play one for me when we get home?” He asks you, the stubble on his jaw grazing your skin as his cheek comes to rest upon yours. “See if we can still find a little of that magic?”

“That depends.” You tell him, your hands coming to rest on his belt buckle. “Do you still have the hat and chaps?”

A filthy smile crosses his features as he says/

"Why Sunny, I actually think I do."

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

healthy disagreement tip by crowley

[Hello, it's the good omens mascot here, for legal purposes can I please state here that I do love Aziraphale as a character it's simply that this post is about Crowley so no one eat me, okay? It's been a week since I finished GO, I'm not stable enough for discourse]

I noticed that Crowley doesn't ever insult Aziraphale as a person. (Have I missed anything?) Even when they're fighting, Crowley is careful to disagree with decisions that Aziraphale is making, views that Aziraphale may have, but he never implies that Aziraphale is in any way lacking as a person.

The only instance when he ever seems to insult Aziraphale is when the angel refuses to come with him to Alpha Centauri after Crowley drives up to him and apologises. He asks how Aziraphale can be so stupid.

But he says it in such a way that it's very clear he isn't calling Aziraphale stupid, or that he even remotely thinks that about him. He's calling Aziraphale's decision stupid. And he makes sure there's no misunderstanding about this.

In the middle of this disagreement, before he says anything about stupidity, he first tells Aziraphale he's clever. With the endearment added. And he's being entirely sincere about it.

You're so clever, angel.

But he doesn't stop there. He says it again.

How can someone as clever as you--

and only then does he talk about the decision

--be so stupid?

And to me that's just. That's such healthy behaviour? Obviously both of these idiots are constantly shit at communication, but Crowley is very, very clear about this. His 'insults' to Aziraphale are always thinly veiled compliments about how he's all good and has the moral high ground, and during their fights, Crowley still never puts Aziraphale down.

The world is about to end, the timer is ticking, Crowley is scared and frustrated and they've had a massive fight where Aziraphale insisted that they're not friends and there was no our side, and Crowley is stretched to his limit with stress.

I'm sure a lot of us would say things we didn't mean in those circumstances. Even in casual situations, we say things like don't be stupid or why are you being an idiot, and that's mostly okay, if everyone knows that it's not meant seriously.

Aziraphale does that, he says things like you're the bad guys and we're not friends, banking on the knowledge that Crowley will not be hurt and will understand why.

But Crowley, even under that high stress situation, a fight with everything at stake, doesn't call Aziraphale stupid, even though no one would have thought twice about it. It's a manner of speaking, Aziraphale would know what he meant, etc. He still doesn't do it.

He takes the time to remind Aziraphale twice that he is clever, so clever, and then begs him to realise that the decision is stupid. He's so careful, so respectful, even in the literal apocalypse.

During the final fifteen, too. He never implies that Aziraphale is of the same material as Heaven, or even that he would make a bad leader. Even before he says that he, Crowley, doesn't need Heaven, he first says You don't need them.

It's just something that would make a lot of inevitable fights in any kind of relationship so much healthier. To know that even though you are fighting, you are loved. Even though the other person disagrees with you, they respect and admire you as a person.

Not judging the person, as Heaven loves to do, but judging the decision or the view.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stubborn Sickness - D.Malfoy

Summary - Y/N is too stubborn to take a pepperup potion even though she is sick and madam Pomphrey has a bunch. The kind hearted slytherin in turn suffers through it in her boyfriend’s bed, snoring her days away. Thankfully Pansy is there to save the day and give her best friend the potion that will make her better. 

Word Count - 819

Warnings - Illness(common cold), swearing, use of y/n, female reader, Theo and Pansy are kinda comedic relief, (let me know If I missed any)

Author's Note- Day Six! Welcome! This is my first Draco fic but it really doesn't have a lot of Draco. I am still trying my damndest to keep up with the 25 days! I'm writing and scheduling my uploads ahead of time!

Harry Potter Masterlist

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

Because of the winter, illnesses were inevitable, students at a constant rotation in the hospital wing for a pepperup potion. There were a few students however, that were particularly stubborn, one of them being Y/N Y/L/N. She knew how busy madam Pomphrey was during this time of year, so she wanted to lessen the load a little bit, even if it was just by one student. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, thought she was being an idiot for not going to get the potion. 

Draco, the ever dutiful boyfriend, was at his ill girlfriend’s every beck and call. She was staying in his dorm so his roommates also had to go through the pleasures of her acting like she was dying over a cold. She had been sleeping in Draco’s bed, covers pulled up over her shoulders, tissues scattered around her, snoring due to her clogged sinuses. 

She woke with a start due to a pillow smacking into her head. “What the fuck!?” She whined, her eyes still closed, her mouth completely dry. 

“You snore louder than a dragon! I’m trying to study here,” Theo complained right back.

“I can’t help it, I’m sick! I don’t usually snore, go study in the library if it bothers you that much.”

Draco walked into the room, a glass of water in his hand and his bag swung over his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of her snoring, she can’t help what she does while she sleeps. Darling, you snore all the time, it’s just louder than usual,” Draco chimed in, dropping his bag at the end of his bed and giving her the glass of water. He made sure she drank at least half before he went about pulling any homework out of his bag. 

“I snore all the time?” She questioned her boyfriend.

“Yes, but it’s cute! And you know I’d never lie to you.” He was in the process of starting his homework and handing Y/N hers. She pouted but started her homework with Draco. She was halfway through before she went into a sneezing fit, her boyfriend sighing because he had been pestering her to go see Pomphrey which she kept refusing. 

“At this point just ask Snape for the damn potion. I don’t want to get sick too,” Blaise added to the conversation. 

“I’m not gonna get you sick!” Before Blaise and Theo could go back at her, Pansy waltzed into the room like it was her own. In her hand she held a potion, more specifically the pepperup potion and it was enough for all of them just in case the boys got sick too. 

“I come bearing a gift! Not only is there enough for our dear Y/N, but there’s also enough for the rest of you if you get sick. Well, more like when you get sick,” Pansy sing-songed as she skipped to her sick friend. Y/N was more than thankful for her friend and roommate, willingly taking the bit of potion that Pansy had given her. 

She started to feel better after about an hour, her sinuses opening up, her headache disappearing, and the ache in her body leaving completely. She spent the rest of her night catching up on homework and cleaning up around the dorm since she had taken over for a few days. Draco insisted she stayed one more night with him before returning to her own room so of course she couldn’t say no. 

The next morning she was once again rudely woken up, this time it was the boys around her all whining. She had officially gotten all of them sick, including Draco who was still asleep but snoring like a freight train. Oh how the tables have turned, the boys choosing to give her a taste of her own medicine, having her bring them tissues and their homework as well as going into the kitchens to get them all food.

Later that day, after all of them agreed to take the potion, she felt relieved and exhausted. “I am never going to be stubborn about this bloody potion ever again, you guys are too much!” She ranted.

“Karma,” Pansy added in her two cents. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Not at all darling. We were just exaggerating,” Draco assured his girlfriend.

“No, you were worse,” Theo told her truthfully.

“What the fuck, Nott! I told you not to say anything!”

 “I can’t lie to her!  She’s one of my best friends, Malfoy! I need to tell her the truth about how whiney she actually was.”

Her face was hot with embarrassment, as she hid her head in Draco’s neck. She was slightly thankful for Theo’s honesty, she never realized how bad she actually was when she was sick. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll always take care of you when you’re sick, even if you’re too stubborn to take a pepperup potion.”

[jmdbjk]

Cultural reset...

These are just my own opinions and I think it's time I address this.

I had to google "cultural reset" to make sure I was using the term properly. New Google AI Overview says:

A cultural reset is when something significant in popular culture changes or is added, causing people to change the way they view things or to have a lot of people hop on the trend. For example, in K-pop, a cultural reset is a song that is very influential, usually one that gets pretty popular and many people love. It has a lot of influence over the K-pop fandom, and gets a lot of attention.

I did not ask Google AI Overview to specifically give me an example in K-pop. That's just my browsing history telling Google AI Overview that this bitch is obsessed... scary right?

(But I'm a little miffed that Google AI Overview generalized my BTS browsing history as K-pop because I don't look at or search up other K-pop artists. I am BTS only.)

Anyway, thank you Google AI Overview. Actually, I was more interested in styling concepts that are a cultural reset.

Let's stop stalling and just get into it.

I know none of us knew what to do with this Jimin when the photo folios dropped:

Definitely a cultural reset in my opinion.

We had never seen a Jimin like that before. Only in our fanfic-AI generated images imaginations had we ever thought...I don't think AI images was even a thing when this Jimin dropped on us.

Does anyone else have the urge to smooth the wrinkles and creases out of those pants for him? No? Just me? Ok.

Photo folio-black lace up leather gloved-patent leather panted-big chain belted-horny mask Jimin was a cultural reset for me and for many of us. The gloves really put it over the top. We'll never go back. He's covered from neck to foot except for a few slivers of skin. It's wild. It's just a smooth arm pit. Ok, before I run off the rails here... what was I saying? Oh yeah.

Also a cultural reset for me:

Every time I see this come up on my Youtube I watch it because it deserves all the views. Even the soundtrack was perfect.

I know Dora-the-Explorer haired Jungkook is not the favorite of some but I absolutely adore it... wait... sorry. There's a word there that I'm striking from my regular vocabulary from now on. Reasons.

This Jungkook was a cultural reset for me. He's never looked like this before and hasn't since in any concept photos. This was brilliant styling, I don't know if it was JK's regular stylist or if a Calvin Klein stylist did it but it was pure art.

He played that camera until the camera wilted, I just know it. I hope he grows his hair out long again when he's back with us.

And no shoulder booboo. I wonder when the shoulder booboo incident happened and I wonder if we'll ever hear the details.

While I'm talking about cultural resets, I have an honorable mention:

Not just this visual but the song too. PJM2 is coming. I feel another cultural reset coming.

Talking to my partner in crime the other day and I think a meeting DID occur where they detailed out a timeline for Project Naked Bangtan. Because they weren't going to go full frontal on us cold turkey. (Somehow all those words together sound hideous but you get my meaning.)

Regardless of Tae and his proclamation that "Chapter 2 isn't about us taking off our shirts" it is about showing a more mature side of themselves which inevitably is going to lead to showing some skin and some cuss words. Little did we know.

I can imagine how it went down in the brainstorm meeting of them trying to come up with content to fill in the time until they are all discharged...on a whiteboard possibly... because some of us are visual learners... someone drew a timeline of nakedness, possibly for each member.

I can hear it now:

RM: "We have to ease them into it. Who's first?"

Jin: "Hyung will do it." LMAO

What's been your Jimin and Jungkook cultural resets?

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 7 - A Thousand Flowers Could Bloom

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: It was inevitably going to happen...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, mild dom/sub undertones, frottage, dirty talk, light hair pulling and biting, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 4.3k (longest chapter to date, haha, is anyone surprised..)

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, passions between Benedict and reader finally boil over. Yup, yup, the movie fades to black on the sex scene... I am not lolol. Please skip this chapter if you want to keep your reading PG-13/12A rated. There is no real plot here. Sorry it has taken me so long to write this; I got so nervous. Still not sure I like this very much. Thanks to ColetteBronte for the read through. Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

It's a blur as the kiss deepens; Benedict’s tongue glances yours, a tentative swipe before entwining. Something sweeps through your being, throwing you overboard, tossing you into a tsunami wave, your mind reeling as your hands stay limp by your side, still taken by surprise this is happening.

“Ben,” you stutter breathlessly when he withdraws fractionally.

“Don’t,” he growls, “don't you dare use that big brain of yours; just shut up.” His thumb is heavy on your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Just shut the fuck up for once in your bloody life.”

So, for once, you do just that. Letting your hands do the talking, looping around his neck to pull him back to you. That is the permission he needs, and suddenly, you are being spun around and pressed into your own hallway wall, him bearing the whole length of his being into you. You feel like you are drowning in him. He is all you can see, smell, and breathe. 

Then, he obliterates every thought you have. Hunching down mid-kiss, he insinuates a warm thigh between your knees. Then he stands up straight, the meat of his substantial quad muscle snagging the seam of your sleep shorts, your clit mashed into your public bone, throbbing.

You mumble a curse into his mouth as his fingers locate the tab on your hoodie. The only sound is the slow release of the zip as he tugs it down and your own shallow panting over his lips as he does so. He smiles dangerously as the material parts, dropping it off your shoulders to the floor so you stand in tiny shorts and a white vest. 

There is a noise in the back of his throat as his eyes sweep down briefly, lingering on your peaked nipples, then slender fingers wrap around the crest of your hipbones and flex, indicating he wants you to move. To ride the thigh that he has you dangling upon, up on your tiptoes.

“Use me,” he mutters like velvet. “Go ahead.”

“I….” You seem almost incapable of speech, too strung out on the tidal wave of chemicals racing around your body. “…need sex, please,” aware it sounds reedy.

He unwinds your hands from around his neck and pins them to the wall at shoulder height.

“Ride my leg, and then we will have sex,” he orders slowly, a knowing smirk on your cheekbone. “Come on; you don't think I can tell how much you need it?” He places a hot kiss on your skin. “You've been aching to come since you straddled me hours ago; don’t deny it.”

Fuckkkk…. 

This is what his ex, Gen, meant all those years ago. ‘Knees weak, pussy strong’ is how she paraphrased what he could do to her. You thought it was her exaggerating; now you realise it wasn’t. It’s like he’s a different person to the Ben that you know, but fuck if it isn't blisteringly hot.

So when he relinquishes your wrists, you wrap around him again, undulating on his leg, pressing your cheek into his, the friction of the layers of fabric adding to your arousal. It feels so good you speed up, grasping his neck.

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants approvingly in your ear, gripping your hips again in encouragement. With every stroke, you bump against a solid mass in his jeans, which makes you feel frantic and impatient for more. To come, to fuck, to do everything he will let you.

“Ben…” his name like honey, tumbling from your lips in your heightened state. You are too cowardly to lean back and look at him, see yourself reflected in his eyes; it feels too much like admitting this is real. Or perhaps you’re simply worried it will break this fevered spell, that he will put a stop to it, leaving you throbbing and bereft.

“Stop thinking,” he drawls, his breath hot on your temple, intuiting you are disappearing too much into your thoughts again, your pace slowing as you slide on him. He squeezes your hips roughly to the point you squeak. “Do you want me to order you to do it?” the voice lethally low. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I…” words fail. You have no idea. 

He pulls back to cradle your jaw again, tilting your face to look at him. His hazy blue eyes are dilated to inky black, and his lips are flushed dark pink. “Y/n,” slow, sensual, rumbling from his ribcage, his fingertips warm on your cheeks. “When I tell you to do something, I mean it. Do it.” His thumb swipes your bottom lip. “Right now.”

“Help me,” it’s a desperate uncensored whisper.

“What do you need?” He smiles predatorily, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Hold me down; be firm,” confessing your desires. “Control me a bit.” You’ve never divulged that proclivity to any past lover, the craving for something with a hint of roughness, a light tussle. And yet, with your best friend, you can’t help but let it tumble out of you.

And perfect, perfect Ben, god, he obliges. 

The hand on your hip digs in as the other slides around the globe of your bottom cheek, and you squeal as he spanks there with a harsh flick.

“I told you to ride my leg,” his directive clipped but somehow still laced with a laid-back bemusement, “so do it.”

It's so perfect you feel an urge to shake him and yell ‘yes’ and ‘this’. But instead, you bite your lip and do as bidden, riding the rough creases in his jeans, letting the texture catch your swollen clit in your thin cotton shorts. It feels so good you shudder, but still, you crave more.

“I want to ride your jeans naked.” Again, you cannot suppress your runaway tongue.

He makes a noise that is almost feral; a sizeable, warm hand slides up your spine underneath your vest, ruching the fabric until it snags on your breasts at the front. Without prompting, you release briefly to strip off the top, then immediately wind around him again like a vine. The soft cotton of his shirt snags delightfully on your nipples, and you can feel his body heat seeping through the thin material. Moaning your approval as his fingers splay wide, touching the sensitive skin of your lower back, right above your shorts.

“Take these off,” he runs a feathery touch above the waistband, the tone gruff and challenging.

He dips slightly and backs away a half pace, just enough to give you room to strip off the last of your clothing. He has not so much as undone a button, but the bulge in his jeans makes you swallow hard as you shimmy off your shorts. He probably wasn't expecting you to be without underwear, based on the noise he makes. You are grateful you have recently trimmed (for a failed date, as it turns out). 

As your shorts hit the floor, he dives in for another mindblowing kiss. And before you know it, you are hauled back onto his thigh, completely naked, the denim feeling so perfect against your aching clit.

“You are so close, aren’t you?” he groans as your heat and wetness seep through his jeans, engulfing his quad. 

All you can do in response is nod, mildly embarrassed, bury your face in his neck and move again in earnest, making faint noises into his skin. The drag of fabric on your engorged clit is so intoxicating you couldn't stop if you wanted to. He murmurs encouragements, touch searing your skin, just this side of painful; you will likely carry his fingermarks tomorrow.

“Come on, that's it,” he encourages, shifting his leg to increase your range of motion, pressing his erection into your hipbone as you crash into him.

Over and over, you ride, getting faster and faster, chasing the high that feels so tantalisingly close, your skin turning dewy with exertion, his body heat enveloping you. You need something to make you break, and he intuits it. One hand slides up your back to grasp the hair at the base of your skull.

“Give it to me,” he orders duskily, an untamed look in his eye, twisting his grip until your hair is taut against your scalp.

Then, the other hand leaves your hip and insinuates between your bodies, grabbing your breast and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The rush of sensation, a little rough, just as you requested, hurls you past the edge you were skating. Convulsing on his leg, he keeps his hold on your hair and nipple as you snap. Eyes rolling closed as you cry his name and curse, coming so hard the world goes fuzzy. Shuddering and shaking, him moving to brace your body upright with him as you writhe.

“That's it, yesssss,” his victorious hiss in your ear is breathy and impressed. 

There are a few moments of silence as you return to the room, so marvellously sated but somewhat mortified about what has just transpired.

“I…. I can't believe I did that,” you mutter into his skin, almost ashamed, even as your body still quivers from the best orgasm you can remember in many months.

“You were amazing,” he reassures into your ear.

“Don't ask me to look you in the eye,” you jest lightly, lips skimming his throat, unwilling indeed to meet his eye.

He chuckles, loosening his hold as he drops a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you honestly asking me to fuck you without looking at you?” he checks light-heartedly.

“I have an eye mask you can borrow,” you offer, giggling.

His responding laugh jiggles your whole body as he shifts to allow you back to your flat feet. Your leg muscles still twitching, still leaning into him for support.

“If you want to play with blindfolds, I am more than game,” he murmurs, cradling your face so you daren’t look away. This closeup and aroused he is a devastating sight, all cheekbones and blown pupils. And partnered with those words, in that hedonic tone, your insides are molten all over again. 

“Me too,” you whisper back.

Before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and strides across the hallway toward your bedroom door. This is a seismic shift in your friendship, but as he lowers you gently onto your bed, all you feel is elation. Butterflies in your gut as he climbs on top of you, still fully clothed.

“Ben, what do I have to pay to get you naked?” you grumble good-naturedly, tugging at the shirt around his shoulders, your usual banter flaring despite this surprising development.

He laughs as his lips land on your neck, warm and plush, kissing a line down to your collarbone that is all at once too much and not enough. 

“I will get naked if you wear that blindfold you promised,” he jokes, your breath catching as you feel his chin stubble catch on the swell of your breast.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, smiling as he pouts up at you, eyes sparkling. 

The fact that the playfulness is still there makes you feel light as air, floating on feathers, him holding your gaze and slipping lower so the tip of his nose brushes your nipple.

“I was right all those years ago,” he inhales almost lewdly. “You really do have a fantastic pair of tits.” He looks up at you from your chest through heavy lashes with that same deadly lopsided smile from years ago, the one he gave you on the train, and once again, it makes you flush from head to toe.

“Naked Bridgerton, now,” you riposte with faux scolding, raising an eyebrow. 

This would have been a very effective response had he not chosen that precise moment to envelope your nipple into his mouth and suck hard, instead making you call out, eyes fluttering closed as your spine curls up off the bed, the heat and suction perfect. Swirling his tongue around and using an edge of teeth, swapping to the other side to do the same before you open your eyes. Then he kisses his way back up, claiming another fiery kiss. As you go to weakly protest again about him being too clothed, he sits up and whips the shirt off over his head instead of undoing it, throwing it aside as your eyes fall open.

“What the fuck?!” It's an unbidden but honest response to the sight before you. 

In the low light cast by your bedside lamp, he is all defined, sculpted lines—a shape you didn't think real humans came in. He laughs slightly abashed as you keep staring, raising up onto your elbows to drink in the view. You know he is in shape from the feel of his body when you hug him, but just how buff momentarily stuns you. 

“You look like a bloody Michelangelo sculpture,” you declare, compounding his coyness.

“If you keep this up, I'm not taking off my jeans,” he warns demurely, in a voice that is both amused and humble.

You mime zipping your mouth shut and throwing away a key as he leans in laughing and busses a brief kiss on your lips. Your hands map his tapered torso, revelling in the supple, warm skin and contoured, lithe muscles and the catch in his throat as you do so. You pull him down on top of you; the weight and warmth of his naked chest meeting yours makes you hungry in a way you haven't felt for years. Eventually, you reach the waistband of his jeans, circling to the front and rapidly flicking open the button of his fly. He squeaks quietly into your passionate kiss, taken aback by your boldness.

“No going back now,” you warn as you carefully lower the zip of his fly over his straining cock.

“I think that ship sailed when I felt your orgasm on my thigh,” he replies drolly, as your eyes briefly fall to the damp patch you left there, cheeks flushing. 

His bravado falters when you push his jeans down his slim hips, delving inside the back of his underwear to grab the peachy solid mass of his bottom. He groans into your cheek, and his mouth finds yours again. There is a wave of body heat as you shimmy his underwear and jeans down his leg, unseen as you kiss almost artlessly. He takes over, squirming his way out of them until they are also flung off the bed. You don't see his cock, but he presses down onto you as soon as he is naked, and you feel it brand your thigh, sizeable and hot.

“Let me see,” you almost whine, petulant.

He huffs a laugh, grabs your wrist, and guides your hand between your bodies. There, nestled within a patch of lightly trimmed hair, you feel the steely warmth of his cock. 

“Ben,” you stumble out as you encircle the heated mass, feeling a trickle escape your body as you begin to pump him lightly, a thumb swiping the sticky precum at his head, loving the way it makes him stutter and moan into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he sounds winded, pulsing under your fingers.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, it's been… uhh… ages since someone else touched my cock,” he rushes out, sheepish.

The honesty makes something melt behind your ribs; this wonderful, handsome man, still recovering from heartbreak, has not had sex in so long that you want to give him - your best friend - everything, a need to please him burning bright. Not wishing to dwell on consequences, what any of this might mean after tonight.

“What do you want, Ben?” you query softly as you pump his cock in your fist.

“You,” he answers sweetly, plainly, breathily, “just you.” He tilts his head and sighs into your neck. “It's been so long since I had sex that I'm not certain I can satisfy you. It’s why I made you to come before; I couldn't bear to leave you in need.”

The vulnerable admission, a true friend confiding in another, makes you crave him, this, even more. The glibness of your recent casual hookups thrown into stark relief in this singular moment of intimate honesty. It's what has been missing from sex since your breakup with Tom. The shorthand that comes from knowing someone so well artifice crumbles; them able to see through all the layers you can hide behind with strangers.

“I bet you are better than you think,” the need to reassure seizing you. “The way you took control earlier was exactly what I needed. Then there is this…,” you squeeze his cock a little, “...now I understand why Gen said she would miss you so much,” you add unabashed, enjoying the feel of his unseen demure smile against your jaw. 

“So you liked when I took control?” he queries, shifting the subject.

“Oh god, yes,” you avow, a little frisson racing down your spine at the memory from moments earlier, your grip flexing around his cock as you do so.

“Do you want me to do it again?” his cadence lowers to something more decadent as he removes your hand and traps it on the pillow next to your head.

“Yes, please,” it’s almost too keen.

Again, the noise he makes is an elixir, elation coursing in your veins. His long fingers lacing with yours, holding you down firmly, his mass weightier as he bears you down onto the mattress. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he rumbles, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear. Your reply in the affirmative is a shaky exhale, a skitter of excitement across your skin at the very idea. “What was that?” his tone suddenly brusque, pushing up to look down upon you, his eyes boring into yours as he surges his cock, branding your inner thigh.

“Yes,” you enunciate crisply, struggling against his control, even though it’s precisely where you want to be, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as his fingers sink further between yours, stretching your knuckles wide apart. He claims you in a vehement kiss, leaving you whimpering around his invading tongue, the tip of his cock rocking against your clit.

“Tell me you want me,” he orders, breath hot on your face, his hands still pinning you under him.

“I want you,” you answer reflexively, as simple and true as breathing. 

He nuzzles your face, his cock sliding temptingly through your slick folds as you shudder, your pebbled nipples catching on the slab of his pectoral muscles, sighing shakily as he gently bites the shell of your ear. He surges his cock again, this time slipping lower, teasing your entrance, parting you with his tip. You inhale sharply at the warm mass, pressing insistently, not quite at the right angle to slip fully inside yet. 

“Do you still have your IUD?” he asks quietly, the domineering mask slipping momentarily, releasing your wrists. 

“Yes, just get inside me, please,” you respond, soft but fervent, raking fingertips down his back, loving the heated contours that flex as he moves to angle better.

Then, eleven years after you first idly thought of it on that drive down to London from Scotland, Benedict Bridgerton finally slides inside your body. 

A blunt warmth spearing you open in a way that feels so good it makes your throat catch, and your eyes roll back in your head. A curse falls from you as he keeps going, finding your hilt as he bottoms out. The perfect fit, just the right side of an ache as you stretch around him. He exhales raggedly into your cheek and stills.

“Move please,” you implore, greedy for more, grabbing his bottom impatiently.

“Give me a moment,” he appeals, breaking persona again, the heat of his body cloaking yours.

“Please,” you coax gently, “Benedict.” You add, almost as an afterthought, using his formal name as if to underline the seriousness of your request.

He makes a noise and lifts to look down at you. “Call me that again,” he commands gravelly, overwrought.

“Benedict,” you repeat as if a tasty morsel you can’t resist.

He makes a hungry noise and withdraws slightly, surging back into you in a way that has your whole body rolling under him with the force of it. You groan, hands flexing on his body, your tongue pressing into the back of your front teeth, quelling the urge to call out how good it already feels.

Your walls cling to him as he sets a languid but perfect rhythm. Breathing each other's air, exploring damp skin, lips meeting repeatedly in loose, open-mouthed kisses. Once again, he grabs your hands and manoeuvres them above your head, holding you down, stretching your arms so your body cants up, your nipples grazing his chest.

“You have no idea how many times I've fantasised of this moment for so many years,” he rasps, making your breath hitch with his words and a change of angle that catches a new spot inside. “And yet, this is better,” he continues, dropping a kiss in your hair.

“Same,” you confess succinctly.

A triumphant crooked smile claims his face, and then he thrusts forcefully, wringing a loud moan from your lungs, your head smashing into the pillow as your hips tilt up in a silent request for more. Yearning for him to fuck you so hard that you feel a physical reminder; for your body to carry a tangible memory of it. 

“You want more, don't you?” he intuits, pride colouring his tone.

“Yes,” you hiss, conscious he can read you effortlessly. 

He snaps his hips in response, and you feel a tug deep inside where he nudges your hilt. It feels so good you gasp and fight to release your hands from above your head, desperate to grab his bum cheeks again and haul him deeper into you.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides bemused, shooting you a pointed look, “you do as I say, remember?” 

You struggle underneath him, eyes blazing as you stare into his glassy pupils, telegraphing silently this is precisely what you want, making a show until you finally settle and curl your bottom lip under your teeth, nodding meekly as he restarts at a leisurely pace.

“Good girl.” He even winks.

Oh fucking hell.

Your pussy pulses around him, betraying how much you like that line. 

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he smirks, the smug, cocky persona he can slip into so easily fitting him like a glove. The ghost of Benedict-past rearing - that troublesome young playboy you recall from years ago. 

He chuckles richly when you don’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal response, somehow the spectre of your younger, indignant self joining the party, too.

“Don’t forget: I can tell when you’re lying,” he murmurs into your jaw, still fucking you slow and thoroughly, sliding his lips down your neck, your collarbone, down to your nipple that he bites, making you cry out. “I know you of old…” he adds, pausing for you to catch the reference.

“Shakespeare…,” you stumble incredulously.

“Mmm hmm,” he confirms, tracing a teasing circle around your areola with the tip of his tongue.

“You quote Shakespeare while you fuck?!” your tone incredulous. “You don’t fight fair,”

He laughs again before silencing any retort you may have with another heated kiss, entwining your limbs, wrapping like a protective vine around you as he begins thrusting keenly. You move with him, uncaring how vocal you are, the need for more inexorable. You stare into each other's eyes as you move in perfect synchronism, faster and harder, grabbing flesh, whispered words and endless kisses. It’s never been quite like this before.

“Come for me again,” he pleads hotly, and you can see he is teetering close to the edge now, a little vein pulsing in his temple, his neck corded, a sheen over his body where his pace never wavers.

“So close,” you vow, needing just a little more friction to fall into that abyss again.

You groan as he grabs your hand and sucks your fingers into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around them, then releases them with an obscene pop, guiding your wettened fingers between your bodies to the apex of your thighs, silently instructing you to touch yourself. Gasping and canting up into his body, your own slippery touch like a lightning rod on your clit.  He growls as your pussy tightens around him responsively, feeling so huge as he ploughs into you.

Only a few flicks of your fingers and you are hurtling towards mindless bliss, eyes closing and body going taut, then snapping like a string as you peak, every fibre of your body fracturing as you call his name and constrict tight around his cock, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his back as you float somewhere outside your body, mind blanking out in sheer pleasure.

Distantly, you hear him following you over, his grip almost punishing as he takes a few last frantic pumps, then stills, emptying deep inside, chanting your name into your neck as his whole body shudders and collapses on top of you.

As you flop back onto the mattress, your body sated, your thoughts race. Probably the best sex of your damn life. Even as he slides next to you, pulling you into his arms, your mind whirls until your scattered thoughts coalesce into one singular truth that makes you chew on your lip and frettingly stare at the ceiling - it was too good, too tender, too raw and honest for a first time. But all you want to do is repeat it. Over and over and over. Just never let him out of your bedroom. Except this is your best friend, and you have no bloody idea where you stand now.

Well… fuckity fuck.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhelll @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheepp @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 11

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of known death eaters from one of the richest and oldest wizarding family. Are you prepared to abandon everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut (?), mention of death and violence, sorry to any ron enjoyers out there

Note: halfway through writing this chapter i realised how im really giving ron the short end of the stick in this story lmao i hope y'all don't mind i'll try to go easier on him

this one is more plot driven than usual but i added fluffy hermione x reader moments to make up for it hopefully its still enjoyable!

alright that's it as usual i hope y'all like this one :)

(btw sneaked in a little hermione pov let me know if u like or hate it 👀)

taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @coralieesau @blackbirdv98

An hour had passed now since Hermione agreed to cut Harry's hair and you had merely been sat in the corner, spectating.

Truth be told it was a rather fascinating sight to witness Hermione Granger struggle at something.

She snips another section of hair off, leaving an uneven patch. She winces and you couldn’t fight the snicker that slips out of your lips.

Harry throws you a worried expression and your girlfriend only glares at you.

With the pair of scissors in her hand, she points it at you.

“Alright that’s it. You either be quiet or wait outside until I finish this.” Hermione warns.

You raise your hands up in surrender pursing your lips to avoid bursting into laughter.

“Okay I’ll be quiet, I’m sorry.”

Hermione looks less than convinced but eventually goes back to cutting Harry’s hair.

A few minutes past and you decide you wanted to get a proper look. Standing up, you leaned over Hermione’s shoulder.

Seeing the state of Harry’s hair now only causes you to let out a hysterical laugh.

Harry reaches back, fumbling as he finally had a feel of the uneven patches on his head.

Hermione slaps your arm harshly but it does nothing to subdue your laughter.

“Y/n, you’re being so rude.” She whines, a pout forming on her lips.

“I’m sorry but you’re truly terrible at this.”

You say, finally recovering from your laughing fit.

Harry stands up and glances at you for a moment, the look on his face shows he agrees with your statement.

“I think that’ll do for now Hermione, thank you.” Harry tries his best to be polite but he isn’t fooling anyone.

You take a seat again and watches as Hermione slams the pair of scissors against the table.

A petulant look on her face, you can’t help but feel at fault.

You held out your arms, gesturing for her to sit on your lap.

“My love come here, I’m sorry.”

Hermione was reluctant for a moment, but inevitably situates herself on your lap, looping her arm over your shoulder.

You leaned in to place a kiss against her jaw, you attempt to plant one on her lips but she was quick to turn her head.

“You’re great at a lot of other things sweetheart, maybe just avoid a hairdressing career in the future.” You try to reassure her but Hermione makes no effort to look at you.

Reaching up, you began massaging her shoulder absentmindedly and she welcomes the feeling.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I’m sorry.” You repeat.

Finally turning to you she leans in, capturing your lips with hers.

Moving your own hand to the back her neck as you deepened the kiss. Your lips were against hers for several moments before Harry can be heard clearing his throat.

He turns to walk out of the tent but Hermione was quick to stop him.

“Hang on Harry, we have something to tell you.”

Your girlfriend looks at you signalling for you to continue.

“Last night, Hermione and I figured something out regarding the horcruxes.”

Harry is now intrigued, he steps closer, folding his arms before giving you his full attention.

“What about the horcruxes?”

“Well, we figured out how to destroy it.” Hermione stands up to grab the book you were reading the night prior.

Handing it to Harry, she waits for him to skim the page before explaining.

“Harry, you destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary with a basilisk fang.”

“But before that you killed the basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor. The blade was then impregnated with it’s venom.” Hermione says.

“That’s why Dumbledore left the sword to you in his will, it can destroy horcruxes.” You add.

“That’s brilliant! You’re brilliant– the both of you!” Harry exclaims and you swear you have never seen him so excited before.

“There’s only one problem ofcourse–”

Harry stops talking as the lights in the tent go out for a moment and you instinctively move to stand next to Hermione.

“The sword was stolen.” Ron states, stepping inside the tent. He holds out Dumbledore’s deluminator and the lights quickly come back on.

“That’s right, I’m still here. But you three carry on, don’t let me spoil the fun.”

You roll your eyes, Ron truly picks his timings.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry asks with a deadpan tone, evidently feeling as annoyed.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Not according to you anyway.” Ron says.

“Look if you have something to say don’t be shy, spit it out.” Harry slams the book closed, stepping closer to Ron.

“Alright I’ll spit it out.”

“But don’t expect me to be grateful just because there’s another damn thing we’ve got to find.” He says, glaring at you.

You feel Hermione grab your hand.

“We’re supposed to be out there destroying these things but now it seems you prefer sitting around playing house with a traitor instead.” He accuses.

“Traitor?” You grimaced at the insult.

Hermione moves her hand up your arm but it does nothing to soothe you.

“I’m sorry, but what part of this isn’t living up to your expectations? Did you think we’d be staying in a 5 star hotel? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you’d be back with your mum by Christmas?” Harry raises his voice.

“I thought you knew what you were doing I thought Dumbledore would’ve told you something worthwhile.”

Harry rolls his eyes and you grow increasingly agitated yourself.

“I’ve told you everything Dumbledore told me and incase you haven’t noticed we have found a Horcrux already.”

“Yeah, and we’re as close to getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them aren’t we?”

Hermione releases your arm, walking towards Ron she attempts to take the necklace off him but he pushes her off harshly.

“Please take the necklace off, you wouldn't be saying any of this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.”

He pushes her away again.

“And what about you? When are you going to snap out of it Hermione? Can’t you see she’s just using you to help the Dark Lord? I don’t get why you still believe she is on our side. She doesn’t love you.”

Ron practically spits the last sentence, pointing in your direction.

The sight of tears welling up in Hermione’s eyes set you off.

Storming towards them you quickly shoved Ron, his back hitting the pillar, you kept him pinned against it with your forearm. He tries to fight you off but the adrenaline coursing through you allows you more strength than him.

“Take the Horcrux off.” You ordered him calmly even though it took everything in you not to choke him out.

Reaching up he removes the necklace, roughly throwing it onto the ground. You release him from your hold but he makes no effort to walk away, keeping eye contact with you.

A challenge you gladly accepted.

“What is it Weasley? Are you going to hit me?” You taunt.

You notice as his jaw clenched in response. He glances at Harry one last time before storming out of the tent.

The sound of Hermione sniffling finally urges you to look at her. You catch her trying to wipe away her tears on her sleeve.

“Oh, Hermione come here.”

You stepped closer, pulling her in for an embrace and Hermione doesn’t fight it. You feel her sobbing against your shoulder and it shatters you.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Your impromptu walk along the lake with Hermione had somehow turned into you teaching her how to skip rocks.

She’d been glum since the argument with Ron yesterday and the fact that he had apparated to Merlin knows where in the dead of the night only made things worse.

“Come on, try again you’ll get it.”

Hermione throws the rock and it makes a large splash in the water.

“This isn’t working.” Hermione groans turning around to leave but you stop her with your hand on her arm.

“No, baby you’re doing really well. It’s just your stance is all wrong.”

You say, picking up a smaller stone before moving to stand behind her.

You handed her the stone and carefully guided her arm up. Your hand still over hers, you leaned in to plant a kiss against her neck before whispering directly into her ear.

“Bend your knees a bit.”

Hermione does as she’s told, the blush forming on her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Good girl.” You smile.

“Now lean back slightly.”

“Release the stone when I say.”

Hermione nods and you guided her arm backwards and then rapidly forward.

“Now.”

She let’s go of the rock and it flings towards the water, skipping twice before sinking. A clear improvement from before.

Hermione smiles widely.

“I can’t believe I did it!” She exclaims.

You chuckled before clapping your hands, applauding her.

“Well done, I knew you could do it.”

Hermione turns to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“You’re a great teacher.”

She says directly against your lips. Your girlfriend doesn’t allow you the chance to respond before eliminating any distance between her lips and yours.

Your lips have been on hers thousands of times in a hundred different ways but somehow every kiss still felt like the first.

Hermione tracing circles against your neck made you giddy, you never wanted this feeling to end.

The distant sound of footsteps on gravel urged the both of you to turn around.

Harry can be seen approaching you with his rug sack hanging on his shoulders.

“We need to keep moving, Hermione.”

A pause before your girlfriend responds.

“Any sign of Ron?” She asks and Harry merely shakes his head.

“Okay.” Her voice was quiet.

Harry begins walking away and Hermione follows, she tugs on your arm but you don’t budge.

The look Hermione’s giving you now is one you had been dreading all morning.

“I can’t come Hermione, I have to go back to my parents.”

Your girlfriend sighs and you reach forward holding her face in your hands.

“I will find you again I promise.” You reassure, looking directly into her eyes which are now glossy with unshed tears.

“I hate this.” Hermione grips your coat and you lean in to kiss her deeply.

“Listen, when all of this ends I will never leave your side again.”

“If all of this ends.” She says.

You place a firm hand against her jaw, lifting her head slightly forcing her to look at you.

“Don’t say that. We will defeat him.”

Moving your thumb you stroked her cheek gently and your girlfriend closes her eyes at the sensation.

“And try not to worry about Ron, he’ll turn up I’m sure.”

Hermione nods but doesn’t say anything else, only wrapping her arms around you to pull you into a hug.

“After everything we’ve done so far it can’t be for nothing.”

You say before giving her a gentle peck on the forehead.

════════════════════════════════════════════

Frustration overcoming her, Hermione groans as she flips the pages of her book harshly. After going through it thoroughly dozens of times, she basically knows every word on every page by heart.

Dumbledore must’ve left this with her for a reason.

There has to be a reason.

Carefully scanning the pages once more something catches her eye, a triangle shaped symbol near the top of the page.

Flipping through the book again she realises the symbol is only drawn on a single page, clearly not meant to be apart of book.

It could mean nothing of course but there is no way for her to know for sure.

This is something but not nearly enough to go on. It still isn’t the clue she was hoping for.

Hermione’s mind starts to wander and like so many times today she's once again plagued by thoughts of you.

She wonders if you might know what the symbol represented, being more naturally versed in the wizarding world than she is.

The nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach returns and she has to fight the urge to cry, again.

She had no way of knowing when you’ll return but the ring on her finger provides her with a much needed reassurance.

Hermione glances at it, examining the strand of light that’s emerging from the ring.

Something she’s done many times before for comfort.

She knows where you are, she knows you’re safe.

“Hermione!” Harry’s voice in the distance snaps her out of her thoughts.

“You were right.” Her best friend says, taking a seat in front of her.

“Snitches do have flesh memories, but I didn’t catch the first snitch with my hands. I almost swallowed it.” Harry says, handing her the golden ball.

Hermione carefully reads the words etched into the metal.

I open at the close.

“What do you think that means?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know.” Hermione says.

Still not enough to go on.

“I found something as well.” Hermione holds up the book and Harry takes a look at the symbol.

“At first I thought it was an eye but now I don’t think it is.”

“This isn’t apart of the book, somebody drew it.”

“I think Luna’s father was wearing that at Bill and Fluer’s wedding.”

Harry says and it only worked to leave Hermione more perplexed.

“Why would someone draw it in a children’s book?”

A beat before Harry speaks again.

“Hermione I’ve been thinking, I want to go to Godric’s Hollow.”

“It’s where I was born, its where my parents died.”

Hermione stands up before shaking her head in disagreement.

“That’s exactly where he’d expect you to go because it means something to you.” She says.

Harry scrambles to his feet, walking after her.

“Yes but it means something to him too Hermione.”

“You know who almost died there. Isn’t that exactly the type of place he’d be likely to hide a horcrux?”

Harry’s practically pleading.

“But its dangerous Harry–”

Hermione stills for a moment, as much as she hates to admit it this is the only lead they have.

“But even I have to admit recently I’ve been thinking we have to go there.”

“I think it’s possible something else is hidden there.”

Hermione says, walking ahead of Harry.

“What?”

He asks and she turns to look at him.

“The sword.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

A week since you’ve seen Hermione and you were getting nowhere.

No solid leads on where the Hocruxes might be hidden and you had no idea where the sword is.

The death eaters planning their next attack on Harry only exacerbated your anxiety.

“Nagini tells me the boy was at Godric’s Hollow.”

“He wasn’t alone.”

The Dark Lord says and you begin to feel a pounding in your ears.

He stands up walking around the table.

The room is silent as he eventually stops, settling behind your chair.

“A girl was with him, a mudblood.”

“Hermione Granger as I understand it.”

The pounding in your head was now intolerable, you shut your eyes bracing yourself for the inevitable.

You were foolish to think you could maintain a relationship with Hermione and get away with it.

To your surprise, Voldermort fails to acknowledge you entirely.

Instead, he addresses the man sitting next to you.

This provides you no relief, you would still prefer torture over what came out of the Dark Lord’s mouth next.

“Scabior, when you find this girl, make sure you bring her straight to me. It seems wherever the boy goes, she follows.”

You recognised the man he was ordering to be the leader of a gang of snatchers.

“Yes, my Lord.”

He says, getting up from his seat and quickly apparating out of the room.

Voldermort does the same shortly after and soon the other death eaters follow.

Leaving you alone in the dining area with your parents and the Malfoys.

The Dark Lord may be gone but you are still struggling to catch your breath.

Getting up off your chair you begin making your way to the bathroom.

Your parents do nothing to stop you but your best friend notices your distressed state.

“Y/n, you alright?” Draco stops you, placing a hand on your arm.

“Yes, I’m fine Draco.” You say without looking at him.

Finally reaching the bathroom you quickly closed the door.

When you got to the sink you turned on the faucet, splashing some water on your face.

It did nothing to help, the room was still spinning.

You shut your eyes tightly as you tried to control your breathing.

At the forefront of your mind all you could see was Hermione.

Your stomach turned at the notion of her getting hurt but the idea of finding your way back to her worked to calm you.

You had to get back to her.

You will get into Bellatrix’s vault tonight.

Once the ringing in your ears dissipated you stepped out of the bathroom.

Making your way to the living area of the home, you were abruptly stopped in your tracks.

Snape was stood before you. As expected, his expression remained unreadable.

“Professor.” You greeted him and he wordlessly steps closer to you.

Holding up a key, one you didn’t recognise but if you had to guess it would be a key to somebody’s vault.

It’s as if the professor read your mind with what he says next.

“The key to a vault in Gringotts.”

Snape says and you eyebrows knitted together.

Despite your obvious confusion he does not elaborate.

“Sir?”

He moves forward slipping the key into the pocket of your blazer.

“Use the key and you will find the thing you require.” He says rather ominously and in any other circumstance you’d find humor in his dramatics.

Could a horcrux be hidden in this vault?

Even if that was true why would he want you to retrieve it?

Hundreds of questions and the Professor doesn’t allow you an opportunity to ask any of them.

He dissaparates without another word.

You were left dumbfounded.

Who’s side is he on?

════════════════════════════════════════════

You wasted no time in making your way over to Gringotts.

Your parents barely batting an eye when you lied about where you were headed. Pansy had clearly done a good job at covering for you which also meant you owed her a ton of favours.

A small price to pay.

“He sent me to retrieve something from his vault.” You responded to the goblin.

“Do you have his key?”

“Yes I do.” You say, holding it up.

“Very well. Come with me.”

The goblin barely gives you a reaction before guiding you past the barrier.

Upon reaching the vault you prepared yourself to look in every corner for the hidden items. Having no idea what they might even look like, you were prepared to spend hours searching if need be.

You were certain of one thing, you were not leaving the vault empty handed.

“Vault 713.” The goblin says as he opens the door to the vault. Passing the key back to you he swiftly takes his leave.

Your shoulders slumped once you took notice of the contents of the vault.

Or rather the lack thereof.

The vault was virtually empty.

Stepping further inside you noticed something propped up against the wall, covered in cloth.

Rapidly making your way over to it you unveiled the item and your mouth fell agape once you realised exactly what it was you were holding.

It was the sword of Gryffindor, sitting in this vault of all places, when it had been presumed to be missing.

Most baffling of all, Snape had been the person to lead you to it.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You found yourself in a hillside after apparating.

You don’t recognise the area at all, making your way down you silently hoped for Hermione to show herself.

“Lumos maxima.” A bright light emerges from your wand, igniting the area.

Soon you spot a figure in the distance.

You let out a sigh of relief once you realised who it was.

“Potter!” You called out.

Harry runs up to you, his eyes were quick to settle on the sword in your hand.

“How?” He asks, pointing at it utterly perplexed.

“Long story.”

“You have the Horcrux with you?”

Harry nods, taking the necklace off.

He sets in on the ground.

You held out the sword, waiting for him grab it.

Harry merely looks at it.

“I think you should do it.” He says.

You are taken aback for a moment but Harry’s expectant expression was quick to convince you.

“Okay.”

You prepared yourself, holding the hilt of the sword with both hands.

“Now I’ll have to speak to it in order for it to open. I don’t know what’s in there but the bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me.”

“Whatever it is, don’t hesitate.”

“Alright, I hear you.” You gripped the sword tighter.

Harry begins speaking in parseltongue and before you know it, a large black mass bursts out of the locket, throwing you back onto the ground.

The dark lord’s voice can be heard echoing around you and it makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve seen your dreams y/n and I’ve seen your fears.”

“A disappointment to your parents.”

“Because of you, the only one you love is in constant danger.”

The voice says.

“Y/n don’t listen to it, it’s lying!” Harry exclaims.

Images of Hermione appear in front of you. Innocent at first but develops into more violent visions the longer you stared at it.

It was as if you had stepped right into one of your nightmares.

A vision of you throwing the killing curse at Hermione causes you to flinch, a dread suddenly overwhelming you.

It was so vivid you could feel the pain in your chest.

“Y/n kill it!”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of it.

The locket using your fears against you was the worst kind of torture.

Your hatred for the Dark Lord only grew, he truly was evil in its purest form.

Your anger worked as the courage you needed to grab the sword off the ground.

With one large swing you cut the locket in half, finally killing the part of Voldemort inside it.

════════════════════════════════════════════

“Is everything alright?” Your girlfriend asks Harry, as she emerged from the tent.

“It’s fine.”

“Actually it’s more than fine.” Harry says, pointing at you.

You smiled as Hermione’s eyes finally settled on you.

You hold out your arms as she walked up to you, expecting to pull her into a hug.

She catches a glimpse of the sword in your hand and the look on her face causes your smile to falter.

Hermione is angry with you.

She turns to look at Harry and he only holds up the broken Horcrux.

“You destroyed it?”

“How is it that you just happened to have the sword of Gryffindor?” Hermione asks, crossing her arms.

“I got it from a vault at Gringotts.”

Before you could register what was happening Hermione was hitting you repeatedly.

“I told you not to go into her vault! If you had gotten caught you could’ve died!”

In a fit of anger she grabs a handful of leaves from the ground and chucks it at you.

Placing both hands on your chest she attempts to shove you.

Quickly dropping the sword you held her arms in place before speaking.

“Hermione wait, will you please calm down and hear me out?”

Hermione fights to get out of your grip but fails as you are considerably stronger than her she is.

“Hermione, please just listen.”

“I didn’t get it from her vault.” You explained.

“What?” She asks.

Before you could elaborate, Ron emerges from the tent.

“How come you’ve got the sword?”

Ron repeats the question and you glower at him.

You assumed he was finally done throwing his tantrum now that he’s back.

“As I was saying, I got it from a vault. Snape gave me the key to it.”

“What?” All Harry, Ron and Hermione say in unison.

“Snape led you to the only thing that could kill hocruxes?” Harry asks but it sounded more like a statement.

“That doesn’t sound right.” Ron adds.

“Well it’s the truth.” You state.

“I know it sounds insane but I don’t think this was an accident. I think Snape wants us to win.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

You sighed happily as you watched Hermione grab your pullover from the edge of your bed, putting it on.

She lifts the sheet to cover the both of you before leaning back, resting her head against your chest.

“You know we have two pillows for a reason. You can lay your head against yours once in awhile.” You joked.

Hermione hums, snuggling into you.

“Why would I do that when you’re so comfortable.”

You chuckle, your arm instinctively wrapping around her.

The both of you laid silently for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow before Hermione breaks the silence.

“How’d you manage to get the sword without your parents knowing?” Your girlfriend asks.

“I just made up a lie about Pansy needing me for something urgent and when my parents asked she covered for me.”

You say, not putting much thought into your answer.

“Pansy Parkinson?” Hermione asks, an edge to her voice.

“Yes.” You mimicked her tone.

Your girlfriend moves out of your hold, resting her head against her own pillow.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know you two were friends.”

Hermione says and you can’t help the smirk forming on your face.

“Since first year. Surely I told you that?”

You decided to keep taunting her a little longer.

“No, you didn’t.”

Hermione remains quiet for a few seconds and you accepted it to be the end of the conversation but she speaks again.

“How many girls have to been with? Before me?” Hermione blurts out and your smile returns.

You shrug.

“A few.”

“A few?” Hermione repeats, sitting up.

Her eyebrows furrow and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone behave so adorably.

“It’s just meaningless sex Hermione.” You reassure, sitting up with her.

Hermione’s pout doesn’t leave her lips and you’re tempted to kiss it off.

“It’s different with you.” Your voice low as you planted a kiss against her shoulder.

Your hand finding her bare thigh, stroking it dangerously close to her center.

“It’s so much better with you.” You say into her ear and you feel her shiver under your touch.

“Really?” Hermione asks, turning to face you.

“You are the best sex I’ve ever had.” You plant a kiss against the corner of her mouth.

You watched as Hermione bites her lip, an obvious glimmer in her eye and you anticipate her next move.

Your girlfriend straddles you again, this time pinning you down against the mattress.

She kisses you with little restraint, she sucks on your bottom lip before her tongue entered your mouth.

Hermione’s lips are moving against yours shamelessly, her hands roaming your body as if claiming you her own.

If this is what it took to get this side of Hermione then you ought to make her jealous more often.

Your hands manage to rest on her ass for a moment before she grabs them to pin over your head.

Hermione runs her tongue along your jaw, eventually settling at the base of your ear.

She moves downwards, biting down playfully and you feel her grin forming against your neck.

Running her tongue along that same patch of skin before sucking on it.

You didn’t have to look at your neck to know she had left a bruise.

Evidently proud of herself, Hermione flashes you an innocent smile before climbing off you to get back under the covers.

She resumes her earlier position with her head on your chest.

“If you’re marking your territory next time it’d be easier to just pee on me.” You quip.

Hermione lets out a laugh before scrunching up her face in disgust.

“You’re nauseating.”

[philaet0s]

So I decided to start posting my social media AU here, in parts, and without the few bits that happen off social media that will be on the ao3 version <3

As an introduction, here’s a little bit of context:

Baz is an world-famous singer. At the beginning of the story, he’s about to go on tour for his 5th album

He and Simon are in a relationship but it’s not public. Simon asks Baz if he can make a twitter account where he claims to be Baz’s boyfriend because he thinks it’d be fun to see how people react

Baz’s albums, because I’ve thought about them a lot —except for the first one— lol:

Ergo, - 2019

→ he just wanted to be pretentious with a latin word honestly + the word “ergo” has this intrinsic meaning of consequence. for something to have a consequence, there *has* to be a something, but there’s nothing that comes before the album. it’s his first. it’s a sort of oxymoron with just one word, something contradictory at its core, Baz likes that

I don’t really know what Baz’s first album is like. the themes would probably be rather dark, but I don’t have a clear idea of what the album would represent like i do for the others. and yet i know there’s an album before those others. something that started it all

Flowers in the Water - 2020

→ a reference to Ophelia from Hamlet, who drowned surrounded by flowers. in this album baz explores his feelings after his break up. he was the one to leave his boyfriend who he was in a pretty toxic relationship with though he still had love for him. so he never had much agency during the relationship (as Ophelia doesn’t have agency during most of the play and her life) and the one time he acted on his own, he ‘ruined his life’ -the feeling of despair after a break up, when you think you’ll never find love like that again, even if it was bad (as Ophelia did when she killed herself). Cliché image of the break up as a sort of death, but you can be cliché when you’re heartbroken

baz’s ex used to buy him flowers, so there was this vase in their flat that for a long time always had flowers in it. after a while, towards the end of the relationship, baz noticed that it had been a moment since there had been flowers in the vase, and that was one of the things that made it hit that his bf didn’t care about him anymore

BUT the ‘vase’ is replaced by ‘water’ in the title of the album – a nice metonymy – to better fit the Ophelia reference.

Portrait of the Artist as a Madman - Feb. 2021

obvious reference to james joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Baz reread the book during lockdown so he had that title in mind. he used Madman instead of Young Man because we all went a little crazy during lockdown so that was his state of mind when he wrote the album

his most reflexive album, in which he writes very personal things about who he was and is, but also his persona as a singer and the way the music industry impacts him and his life

The Prophecy - Sept. 2021

baz really wanted to use the word prophecy in a title. it’s his favourite word in the english language. it’s a very meaningful word, prophecies were a huge deal for ancient civilisations, prophets are important figures in the abrahamic religions + he likes the idea of a prophecy, something being foretold, an inevitable end, no matter what one does. it’s very tragic, he likes that

this album is about his new relationship with simon, a romantic piece about how when they met, he felt like their story had already been written and all they had to do was play it out, he felt this inevitability that he associates with prophecies. simon is the love that was foretold for him

Metamorphoses - 2022

in reference to Ovid’s metamorphoses. Baz reuses some of the stories in the Metamorphoses while also applying them to his life, creating songs that are a blend of mythology and personal. (his fans love trying to guess what is merely his interpretation of Ovid’s stories and what is personal elements he added to the songs). the songs are ordered in a way that shows how baz was transformed throughout his life to become the version of himself he is at the time of writing the album. a sort of memoir told through a dozen songs

Paroxysm - 2023

paroxysm: a sudden sharp attack (of pain, rage, laughter, etc)

the meaning of the word is why baz chose it as a title. he thought it fit the album, which he wrote very differently from his previous ones –in bursts. his creativity was renewed after Metamorphoses, which was a project that felt to him more like writing a book than songs, and it expressed itself differently. in this album, the topics he writes about are all different, with nothing to give a coherent theme to the album… which is the theme in itself. all the songs are little paroxysms

[wandabear]

the river's daughter

ㅤㅤㅤ Pairing: Natasha romanoff x female reader Summary: You are nothing more than an avatar of a goddess that has lived many years. And even though you think you know everything, there's always something or someone that comes into your life to surprise you. ㅤㅤㅤ natasha's masterlist wanda's masterlist

warnings: mentions of death, violence, angst, fluff and smut. (+18) top!nat

How does it feel? Feeling that every day is the same, over and over again. Anyone would lose their minds with such daily monotony, so many years. But she was okay with it, for a long, long time. ㅤㅤㅤ

Do you want to know how it all started? First of all, you should know that it wasn't easy. Mercy, that's something they never had for her.

ㅤㅤㅤ They stoned her, beat her, spit on her and abused her. They tied the girl up like a pig and burned at the stake, cheering as her skin burned slowly; if a man craved knowledge and discovered something that would change the world, he was a genius. But if a woman did, you were quickly considered a witch.

ㅤㅤㅤ Well, now it isn't the same as before.  Of course they don't burn you for being smart but, let's say that the same ignorant people are always there.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ 1452 AD.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Witch!” Exclaimed one of the residents of that town, as the girl was carried through those dirty streets, her feet collided, splashing in the rain puddles. The girl was dragged through that place against her will, she cried trying to let go, but the mob pushed her over and over again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Hitting her. Insulting her. Spitting on her. ㅤㅤㅤ

“You're disgusting! You should be ashamed!” Yelled her own mother, hitting Y/N’s cheek so hard. A dirty face, a broken lip and eyes full of anguish.

ㅤ⠀

“I haven't done anything, I swear. I'm not a witch!” Y/N defended herself, until one of the men took her by the neck, taking her to the stake.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Don't listen to her, she's not herself anymore. A demon has possessed her body and the only way is to purify her.” exclaimed the village priest, raising his hands. “The fire will purify her soul.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Please, it's just me.” Y/N asked through tears. Those tears mixed with the soot on her cheekbones, dark tears falling down her face. She didn't understand why she had to be there, she didn’t do anything wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Showing interest in science, contradicting everything trying to find a coherent answer, was strange. She wanted data, proof, she wanted answers. Y/N wanted to travel the world, wanted to know love.

The love of a girl who was watching her from the crowd, disappointed. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Do it now!” Alfred yelled, one of the men from the village came up with others, and Y/N’ legs trembled. Just remembering what happened two nights ago, a chill ran through her body.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Help!” The girl screamed desperately as she felt Alfred settle behind her, so intimidating. Those screams and her crying were not going to save her. The decision was made, her fate was inevitable. Her wet eyes allowed Y/N to barely see the faces of each of the people who were in front of the pyre. One by one, the people she knew since she was a child. Looks of disapproval, disgust and pity.

ㅤㅤㅤ

An anguished gasp escaped her dry lips as Alfred picked up one of the torches and flung it at Y/N’s feet, starting the fire. There was no turning back. 

Why did she felt so guilty?  She was the victim here, about to be burned alive.  How could she forgive them?

ㅤㅤㅤ

The flames spread quickly, fear gnawing at her skin as she tried to loosen her grip. Her teeth clenched, jaw aches but she tried to be strong. 

So what? What was the point of fighting? What was the point of crying? What was the point of yelling?

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N’s teary eyes rested one more time on the people in the place and then, she looked up at the sky. A huge moon settled in the sky; she had always felt a certain peace at night. ㅤㅤㅤ Her lungs filled with oxygen for one last time, the smoke was beginning to make her cough but that wasn't the worst. Fire licked at skin, hands trembled with pain, so slow. ㅤㅤㅤ Do you know what is the worst thing about dying like that? In addition to wanting to die quickly, the worst is the smell. You start to feel like the first layers of skin burn, every part of you until finally your nerves finally die. That is when you are grateful that death comes, but it will still take time. ㅤㅤㅤ

The moon at midnight witnessed the pain of a woman and the negligence of those people. And her last thought was devoted to what she had loved most in her life, to the wonders she had witnessed. ㅤㅤㅤ

To the frogs in the river that jumped while she looked at the eggs they laid on the plants, marveling at something as simple as a tadpole. 

ㅤㅤㅤ To the bugs in the grass she watched with curiosity, to the crows that prowled the pastures while she came back home in the afternoons. 

People used to call her ‘the river’s daughter’, because she was always there.

ㅤㅤㅤ

And Y/N innocently wished she could live a little longer. Wanting retribution for her life taken so unfairly. She wanted revenge, she wanted to travel, to know, she wanted so much more. And nature responded, but not in the way she expected.

ㅤㅤㅤ

I feel the pain inside of you.

ㅤㅤㅤ

A voice, so soft, like a warm hug in the freezing winter, feeling an absolute calm that she had never felt. Was that part of dying? Because if it was, it was so much better than being alive in a cold place like this.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Who are you?” 

ㅤㅤㅤ

Do you really want to live again?

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N thought about that question, of course she wanted another chance. But was it possible?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Yes.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Do you swear to protect the wild nature and hunt those who would do them harm?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Then now you will be known by many names… Artemis. Medeina. Diana. Aradia. Arduinna. So many names… but it will always be you, Artio.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Rise and live again.”

NOW

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You're getting in trouble, aren't you?  know you so well, Y/N. Just stay outta trouble.” - received from Alena two minutes ago.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The cloaked woman sighed deeply and put away her phone, watching the city from that building. It was a fairly quiet night.

Narrowing her eyes, Y/N quickly shapeshifted into a bat to fly and silently entered through that broken window.

Getting to the fourth floor was easier than she expected, silently killing each of the thugs. One by one, they died under the edge of her blades.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She stopped for a moment to use her powers and listen to how many more were left and specifically, where was what she was looking for.

Y/N took a few more steps until she stopped, hearing gun shots on some lower floors. Someone else had entered the building, a team.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Nice.”  Y/N growled. She was definitely going to have to hurry.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Hearing those shots outside, that big man sighed and turned to see the redhead in front of him. That woman lay tied to the chair, it was clear that she had been interrogated and tortured for hours.

The legendary Black Widow was handcuffed, spending hours in that interrogation in that disgusting and humid room.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“This is not how I wanted this evening to go.”  The man named Lev Nikolayevich, a big arms trafficking leader, sat across from her at the desk. Beside Nat, two of his thugs smirked.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “They will come for you soon.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Then you better talk fast or you'll be food for my dog.” Lev said in a raspy voice, pointing to the huge dog at the side of the room. That dog with grayish fur due to dust and dirt, the scars and some wounds that were barely healing showed that it was used for fighting.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Who are you working for?” The man asked again. “Spiridonov, right?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I thought General Spiridonov was in charge of the business.” Natasha just kept staring at him.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Lev lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply, playing with the idea of burning her with it. “Your outdated information betrays you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha's eyes widened and she swallowed, trying to play the role of a frightened and emotionally vulnerable woman.

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“The famous Black Widow…” He smiled, blowing out the smoke on Natasha’s face. “...and she turns out to be just another pretty face.”

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Arching a flirtatious eyebrow, Natasha murmured: “Do you think I’m pretty?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Ms. Romanoff.” Lev moved the cigar toward Natasha's bare leg. “If you're looking for a confession-”

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Before he could say anything else, an arrow pierced the neck of one of his friends. Making him fall to the ground, choking on his own blood.

Startled, Lev turned to see the hooded figure in the doorway carrying a bow.

The first thing Natasha thought about was Clint, and of course she was going to kill him when they got out of there. That was her undercover mission.

ㅤㅤㅤ But seeing how the other thug was brutally beaten by that agile figure and then impaled with an arrow, the widow realized that it couldn't be him. Clint would never kill without mercy.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Lev took a step back, terrified especially when the hooded woman aimed another arrow at his chest.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wait, we need him!”  Natasha growled, she had gone through all that just to get information from that guy. She needed him alive. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Get in line.”  Y/N grunted.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't know who you are, but the Avengers need him. He has some big deal intel about-” The black widow tried to 'manipulate' her but she didn't know that this woman was immune to it. Y/N didn't care in the slightest what happened to that human trash.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't care about your business.” Y/N quickly interrupted her, aiming it straight at the man's throat. “I only came for the dog.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She hated humans, she didn't care about this guy or any of them. Without further ado, Y/N shot the arrow through Lev's throat and nailing him against the wall. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

The goddess watched as the light disappeared from the man's eyes and then approached to free the dog and get out of that place. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That’s okay, boy, we’re leaving.” she cooed. That huge puppy only wagged his tail so happy that someone got him out of that torture. Natasha just watched that scene without being able to believe it, without being able to understand it.

ㅤㅤㅤ Y/N walked to the door with that excited dog by her side until Natasha's voice made her stop:

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Who are you?” The redhead frowned curiously and worried, she couldn't see her face but it was definitely a woman. But the goddess did not answer, she just smiled and left that place.

ㅤㅤㅤ

By the time Natasha managed to free herself from that chair, Y/N had completely disappeared, without leaving any trace of her participation that night. That was a complete mystery to her.

That was the first time she crossed paths with Natasha Romanoff.

After a long journey, Y/N finally returned home with that big pup by her side. Closed the door but stood for a moment, feeling a presence that told her that she wasn't alone.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Go eat something, boy.” Y/N told the dog with a kind look.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The pup lowered his head and walked towards the kitchen, understanding and giving her the space she needed. Y/N turned and walked towards the living room, meeting a woman in front of the huge window. A tall, brunette woman of about thirty-five years old, wearing a suit that made her look spectacular.

ㅤㅤㅤ

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“I knew it, I swear...”  Alena shook her head, utterly tired. “I just- I knew you were doing some shit!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Look-” Y/N tried, coming closer. The goddess understood how upset Alena could be with her, how many times she saved her ass. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, don’t ‘look’ at me.” 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“He was a bad man.” Y/N exhaled and approached her sister, who just crossed her arms, waiting for a good excuse. “He polluted this planet, trafficked weapons and also had fighting dogs. Can you believe it? I wasn't going to stay still.”

“Y/N…” Alena stood in front of her, rubbing her temple. “We cannot interfere in human affairs. Like that man last time-”

“They were not just human affairs. He loved to kill whales in the Faroe Islands!” Y/N growled.  “Trust me, just because we are here doesn't mean I have to sit around doing nothing, I'm sick of it.”

Alena just sat on the edge of the sofa, sighing. After so many years of being together, Y/N never ceased to amaze her or give the biggest headaches.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N was the avatar of Artio, goddess of the hunt and the wild nature, but Alena was the avatar of Athena. The great mighty Athena, goddess of Wisdom, heroic endeavor and war. Unlike Ares who embodied war in a brutal way, Athena directed war battles in an intelligent and orderly manner. That's why she was in charge now.

And of course, many times she was extremely responsible and kinda bossy, the complete opposite of Y/N.

“Y/N, we made a pact a long time ago and we must keep it that way, or everything is going to be a mess.” The taller brunette sighed, she could easily scold and beat her up, but she just looked at her sister and spoke to her patiently. “We don't interfere. We can't.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What do you expect me to do?” Y/N exhaled tiredly, sitting on the couch. ���They love Thor.”

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“Thor is a fucking alien.” Alena shrugged, watching that beautiful view from the place. The warm sun shining against her face. “We defy all their beliefs because we are from this very planet. They see Steve Rogers as an old man, a living fossil, imagine what they'll say if they know we've been around for much longer. Hundreds, thousands of years.”

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“They don't deserve us anyway. They'd hate us the moment they found out, they're just awful, violent parasites. Sorry for the comparison, poor parasites.” Y/N said, quite annoyed, there wasn't even a human she liked enough. She just used them as she pleased.

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“Some are really worth it.” the brunette whispered.  “They make mistakes, just like us. The difference is that some of them try to do better, and some of us would never consider it.”

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Y/N was silent for a moment, she was right. Well, most of the time, but it was still worth accepting. Especially for a soul as rebellious as Y/N's.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Okay, I’m sorry.” She looked down.

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“I know.” But Alena just smiled tenderly and nodded. After all, Y/N was still young. “I did something crazy the other day too.”

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Y/N frowned. “Like what?” 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Well… There was a guy who was going to go free, and I just… I used my powers and I made him confess.”  The goddess got up from the sofa and adjusted her suit. She seemed somewhat embarrassed just saying it, which made Y/N just laughed.

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“That’s doing justice, that’s your job. That’s not something crazy.” Y/N still didn't seem to understand. What was the big deal?

ㅤㅤㅤ

Alena looked quite guilty for what she had done. “I didn't follow the rules and I manipulated him, that's a bit wrong, Y/N.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

But Y/N just laughed even louder.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I thought you'd say something incredibly crazy or have an orgy or something… But, sis, you’re weird and boring.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

The second time Y/N ran into Natasha it was a few years later, and it was even more unexpected.

ㅤㅤ Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the sea breeze against her face. She smiled, she'd always loved Norway. The goddess walked on that road, among the trees and the cliff facing the ocean. She arrived in Norway a week ago for reasons much more difficult to explain, Alena needed her presence in some kind of meeting but being in that place was revitalizing, especially surrounded by so much nature.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The woman stood in front of that cliff, rejoicing at feeling the light drizzle. The song of the birds made her close her eyes, smile widely. Everything was perfect until the sound of a car engine made her grunt a bit annoyed.

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In the distance, a small car was slowing down. It was a small Lada Niva driven by a redhead woman who lowered her window to chat with her.

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“Hi.” Natasha said in a husky voice, watching the woman curiously.

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“Hey.” Y/N mumbled. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha Romanoff again. How come of so many people in this fucking world, it had to be just her?

Y/N froze, thinking that the agent might recognize her but then she remembered that Natasha never saw her face.

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“Are you lost?” Natasha asked a bit worried, not only at the thought of someone hanging around near her trailer, but with that woman near the cliff, what if she wanted to jump? She couldn't just ignore it.

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“Oh, no… well, I- I think so? My phone just… stopped working.” Y/N chuckled embarrassedly, clearly faking it. “Sorry.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s okay.” The redhead nodded and relaxed a little more. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N licked her lips, looking around. Denying it would be quite suspicious and the last thing she needed was that woman to follow her steps. The brunette smiled tenderly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That would be good although my mother taught me not to get into strangers' cars.” Y/N teased, making Natasha smile.

Y/N walked around that car and sighed deeply before getting into it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The scent of Natasha's perfume reached her, truly exquisite. Could notice some wild raspberry tones. She also saw some bags in the back seat, the russian spy was clearly coming back from the store.

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“Do you live here?” Y/N cocked her head to look at her. Natasha kept her gaze fixed on the long and lonely road. “Interesting place. It's boring?”

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“Not much.” Natasha sighed. “I like the calm.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N just nodded and turned her gaze to see the beautiful ocean. The waves crashed against the cliff, and with each swell, she felt revitalized.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you backpacking? or just a tourist?” Nat asked more incisively, clearly beginning to be suspicious. She noticed that Y/N was carrying a backpack, not too big. “I mean, you don't have a Norwegian accent.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N smiled a little shy. “You're right, I'm not from here. I am a tourist, I arrived some days ago.” She opened the backpack slowly, noticing how Natasha tensed. “I am a wildlife photographer, I came to learn and see some puffins.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N took a camera out of the backpack, showing it to her. She had to make a supernatural effort not to laugh when she saw Natasha's face. Maybe thought she'd pull out a gun.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Nice.” The redhead swallowed and smiled sheepishly. “I’m Natalie.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, silly. We know exactly who you are.” Y/N thought and smirked.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m Y/N.” 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Natasha nodded, but then she wrinkled her nose. “What’s a puffin?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N giggled at her question and stared at the redhead for a moment. 

She carefully observed every part of Nat’s face, those green eyes, her nose, those lips. The adorable red-haired braids contrast with her pale skin. Maybe playing with the humans for a while wouldn't hurt.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you have two hours to find out?”  Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Unless you're afraid of a stranger.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha looked at her somewhat surprised and perhaps interested. Who was that mysterious woman? Why did she feel that she knew her from somewhere?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“This is beautiful.” Natasha's voice showed how amazed she was.

They were both sitting on the grass in front of that beautiful cliff facing the ocean, the blue sky made it even more wonderful. The sound of the birds and the waves was all they could hear.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha had been in Norway for a while, but never experienced anything like that.

A few steps from them, there were some adorable chubby birds. They were black and white, their beaks had some beautiful and vivid colors like orange, red and yellow.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m in love with them.” Nat giggled, maybe happy for the first time in a long time. Perhaps somewhat adorable and clumsy to walk, they just managed to win Natasha Romanoff's heart and that wasn't easy.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“They’re the most punctual bird in the world.” Y/N whispered, smiling at them. “They arrive to spend the summer here on the same day, every year. Nobody knows why.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Some call them 'the clowns of the sea'.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“That’s a cute clown.” Nat smirked, seeing how an adorable puffin came out of its cave with another and began to rub its beak against its partner's, in a very adorable way. “Oh, look how their beaks collide! Are they kissing or something?!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N watched as Natasha seemed fascinated, and strangely the goddess felt something inside her. Something new, something she didn’t know. A warm feeling that she swore she never felt before.

Tenderness.

Seeing how those green eyes showed illusion, in perhaps the most deadly person on this planet. The goddess was enormously curious now.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes, that’s how they show love.” Y/N laughed, this time she didn't pretend. “They’re quite romantic. Once they’ve mated they stay together forever.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Nat nodded and smirked. “Quite romantic indeed.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Biting her lower lip, perhaps a little needy for some little contact with another being, Y/N barely whispered a few words to one of the puffins.

It wasn't any kind of manipulation, she just invited him to come closer and the bird, knowing who she was, gladly accepted.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is he doing?” Natasha asked a bit worried, noticing how that bird was getting closer.

With clumsy steps and constant flapping, that puffin slowly approached Natasha until it was facing her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Opening her eyes wide, Nat stood still, not knowing what to do. She didn't want that bird to hurt her but she didn't want to hurt him either.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It won't hurt you, it's just curious.”Y/N chuckled at the redhead's nervousness. “Touch his head, very gently.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I…” Natasha hesitated for a moment.  She didn't know how to say it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You don’t wanna hurt him.” So Y/N said it for her, somewhat surprised. Such a selfless act, she would never have expected.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I don’t.” The redhead sighed. “Isn't it an endangered bird or something? I wouldn't want to ruin it.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Just do it gently.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Despite her fear, Natasha reached out her hand to that bird and gently caressed its head. That puffin began to flutter happily, snuggling between her legs for a minute and then walking around her.

Y/N just laughed and reached for her camera, taking some pictures of the bird. And though Natasha didn't notice, she took a few of the smiling redhead befriending a curious puffin.

ㅤㅤㅤ

After a few minutes of wandering, the bird decided to fly and return to his family.

Both were silent for a while, enjoying the place and taking pictures until Y/N opened her backpack. She pulled out a small lunch box with sandwiches and a bottle of water.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You have a lot of food for just one person.” Natasha said somewhat suspiciously.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N arched an eyebrow and handed her the lunch box. “I eat a lot.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

That was true tho.  Noticing how the redhead looked at the food with mistrust, the brunette took a bite first, staring at her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha gave her a fake smile and took a sandwich. “How about we get to know each other? Let's do some questions.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sure. Shoot.” Y/N shrugged.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She knew that for a while, Natasha had doubted her since they met. Wasn’t stupid or naive at all, the redhead was one of the best agents of one of the most important agencies in the world.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you an agent?” The black widow narrowed her eyes at her, taking a bite of the sandwich. The goddess turned to stare at her, accepting that challenge.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sincerely, she answered short and concisely. “No.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you part of the government? An undercover agent?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No.” Y/N blinked slowly, she wasn't even intimidated and that made Natasha feel a bit nervous.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you telling me the truth?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

If Natasha was sure of anything, it was that she knew very well when someone was lying to her.  And so far, the stranger had been passing her test.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Did you come here for me?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No.” 

ㅤㅤㅤ

Nat thought for a moment what to say, Y/N seemed to be telling the truth or was better than her at lying, and that was very difficult to accept. But she never broke the connection between their gazes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you know who I am?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Finally one of the most important questions and at the same time easier to answer.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Who doesn't know you, Natasha Romanoff? A.K.A Black Widow, wanted by many. You’re quite a star on TV… ex-Avenger.” Y/N smiled and took another bite of the sandwich. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha didn't say anything for a moment, analyzing everything the brunette had said and then sighed. She was telling the truth.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Did I pass your test yet, agent Romanoff? Can I keep eating my sandwich?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

The next thing she knew was how Natasha was taking her inside that trailer, closing the door without even looking. Couldn't take her lips off her or hands from Y/N's body.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N's eyes reflect desire and passion, but above all, how delighted and excited she felt to see Natasha in such a passionate way.

Sex had always been a good way to connect, Y/N couldn't help but feel the need at times, but nothing and no one really mattered to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But this time, this one was different.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The way Natasha took off her clothes, the way the widow dominated her whole naked body in that bed.  First, the redhead dedicated herself to devouring her, kissing, touching, biting Y/N's body with devotion and passion, making her feel truly like a goddess. How that tongue made her come over and over again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

As those fingers marked her, running through Y/N’s body with patience and need at the same time. As the widow first invited the woman to ride her on her favorite toy, then being thrusted over and over again, Y/N hid her face in the pillow swallowing to drown her moans but it was impossible. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

Those soft hands held the goddess' hips like she owned her, and far from hating it, for a night, Y/N loved it. Those soft, full lips kissing the back of her neck, her tattooed back as Nat filled her completely.

Cupping Y/N’s breasts that moved with each thrust, each one of them bringing her closer and closer to a new orgasm.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But far from allowing her a break, the redhead captured Y/N’s lips again. One more time. Natasha definitely seemed to need this, she needed to release all that tension and Y/N was the most exquisite way right now.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Fed up with the melancholy and the gray and lonely days far from the Avengers, Natasha spent the night making Y/N hers looking for a little shred of joy. Biting, kissing, devouring, sinking deep inside her. Trying to forget.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The next day, Natasha woke up feeling the warmth of the sun against her face but also an empty cold bed. The redhead sat on the bed confused, being the 'abandoned' one without a goodbye this time seemed to make her ego feel a bit hurt.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Of course she used to do it all the time, but that woman… that woman completely stole her attention and interest from that day on.

Her phone vibrated on the table and for a moment she hoped it was her, but Nat only smiled slightly when she saw that it was just Rick Mason saying:  ‘I have what you asked for.’

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

Both were in that office in one of the best buildings in New York City, where Alena practiced as one of the best lawyers in that firm. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Sylvie.” Alena smiled at her assistant as she placed both cups of coffee on the desk. Y/N smiled at the girl before she closed the door.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Once Sylvie disappeared, her sister finally snapped.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Alena pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to find patience. “You fucked THE Black Widow.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Well… yep.” Y/N smiled toothly, taking the coffee and dropping some sugar into it. “It was worth it.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re so lucky you only fuck women, or we would be having some serious shit with demigods, like that time… Remember? It was a fucking mess.” Alena growled, maybe being Athena's avatar made her a little grumpy sometimes. “Was it good?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N laughed at the curiosity of her sister, who narrowed her eyes excited to hear some gossip. “Really good, like… I was very surprised. Best sex i've ever had.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Alena frowned. “Really surprised? It's the Black Widow, everyone wants a little of that. She’s like sex itself... Just admit that you have a human crush, there's nothing wrong with that. Even Aphrodite loved her. ”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“As if you don't have a secret crush on the little witch.” Y/N teased, enjoying too much to annoy her sister.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m not.” Alena laughed nervously, so nervous that she almost pushed her coffee cup clumsily.  “I just feel that life has been very unfair to her.”

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah, sure.” Y/N rolled her eyes and then looked at the nearest tv, watching the news repeat over and over how the Avengers saved the world again. “They did it again.” 

ㅤㅤ

“Yep, I saw it. That's why I'm trying to work on this.” Alena sighed, typing quickly.

ㅤㅤ

“At least they're giving you a nice tribute.” Y/N teased and scrunched her nose.  “Goddess of heroic endeavor.”

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck you.” Alena sighed and took one of her files, signing some papers.  “Look at me, I was a respected goddess leading battles and now I'm signing these fucking papers to do some justice.”

ㅤㅤ

They both smiled with a certain sadness, times had changed a lot. For the better in many things, and for others, everything remained the same.

ㅤㅤ

“And yet, years later, you still think they're worth it.” Y/N drank some of her coffee.

ㅤㅤ

“I know there's no excuse for what they did to you when you died, but they're not all the same.” Alena took off her glasses to look at her for a moment, crossing her arms on the table. The papers could wait.

ㅤㅤ

“Because you love them.”  Y/N just sighed. Of course Alena loved humans, like half the gods who were barely still alive. But not Y/N, she still couldn't forgive them.

ㅤㅤ

“Because I personally think they can be better.” Alena stirred her coffee and drank some of it. “I'm not the one who fucks them.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N laughed amused and got up to leave. “You should.”

ㅤㅤ 

“Please, don't get in trouble.” The brunette managed to say before her sister left the office. When Y/N turned around, Alena raised an eyebrow and said: “We don't need to mess with the Avengers.”

ㅤㅤ 

Y/N just grinned and walked out of the office, giving her the middle finger.

But the third time she met Natasha Romanoff, it was memorable. Because it was at that very moment.