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bubblyi3 · 2 days ago

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Eventually, Summer | MYG

"we were a season. maybe the best one."

pairing: yoongi x female reader

genre: coming of age, grumpy x sunshine trope

word count: 2.5k

content warning: fluff, angst

summary: you’re the town's ray of sunshine. always smiling, always talking, always trying to make people feel at home in your little seaside café. min yoongi? not so much. when a local community project forces you both to co-run a weekly open mic night at the café. yoongi starts to open up. slowly. grudgingly. beneath his cold, quiet exterior is a guy with big dreams, old scars, and a love for music he hasn’t touched in years. and behind your sunshine smile is someone who’s just as scared of being left behind.

author's note: pulled this one from the drafts :) hope you enjoy it! i've been wanting to explore the grumpy x sunshine trope for ages, and honestly, no one fits the vibe better than yoongi. if you do, a like or reblog would mean a lot. it really motivates me to share part 2!

ps: i'm gonna put my previous taehyung fanfic on pause, until i get motivation to continue again... hopefully soon!

playlist:

juna - clairo

champagne coast - blood orange

white ferrari - frank ocean

nothing's gonna hurt you - cigarettes after sex

PART 2

The bell above the café door jingled with its usual cheerful chime. The kind that made regulars smile and newcomers glance up in curiosity. You were halfway through icing a lemon scone when you looked up and saw him.

Headphones. Hoodie. A scowl that could curdle milk.

He paused at the threshold like the sunlight offended him, squinting behind black-framed sunglasses. And then, wordlessly, he stepped in, dragging a suitcase behind him.

You blinked. "Uh... can I help you?"

“No,” he said, already walking past the pastry display and toward the corner booth like he owned the place.

You followed him, apron flapping at your sides. “Actually, I think you might be lost. This is Sweet Sea Café, not a waiting room.”

He dropped into the booth with a sigh so dramatic it felt like a personal insult. “I know where I am.”

“Do you?” you asked brightly. “Because most people say ‘hello’ before claiming a table like a hermit crab.”

“I’m not a people person.”

“No kidding.”

He cracked one eye open. “Do you always talk this much?”

You beamed. “Only when I’m nervous. Or when people are rude.”

That earned you a faint lift of his eyebrow. Barely. But it was something.

Before you could say anything else, the bell above the door rang again, and an older woman bustled in arms full of fliers and a clipboard wedged between her elbow and hip.

"Y/N!" she chirped. "Perfect timing! I need your help assigning volunteers for the Summer Stories Project."

“Oh, right,” you said, quickly wiping your hands. “Is this the library’s thing?”

“Yes! Oral histories. Interviews. Open mic nights. Community magic!” She thrust the clipboard toward you. “And guess who just signed up?”

You tilted your head. “Oh no.”

She pointed behind you.

You turned. The hoodie in the corner booth was glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him.

“He’s not even smiling,” you whispered. “He looks like he hates air.”

“Yoongi’s his name. Came back from the city. His grandmother signed him up before he could protest.”

“Sounds like a hostage situation.”

The woman laughed. “I paired him with you.”

You froze. “What.”

“You’re sunshine. He’s... whatever the opposite of sunshine is. It'll balance.”

You looked over at him again. He was glaring now. At you. Great.

Later that afternoon, you slid a caramel latte across his table. He looked at it suspiciously.

“I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house,” you said. “You’re my new partner in summer crime.”

He hesitated. Then took a sip.

His eyebrow twitched.

You grinned. “Sweet, huh?”

He looked away. “Too sweet.”

You leaned your hip against the table. “You’ll get used to it.”

He didn’t respond.

But the cup stayed in his hands a little longer than necessary.

The following Tuesday, the café was half-quiet, humming with the low clinks of cutlery and the hiss of the espresso machine. You were wiping down the counter when Yoongi arrived. Twenty minutes late and looking like he’d fought with his alarm clock and lost.

He slumped into the same corner booth with his hood up and his expression down.

“You know,” you said, setting two iced Americanos on the table, “for someone who doesn’t like this project, you sure love being consistent.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “Overslept.”

“You oversleep every day.”

“That’s what summer’s for.”

You slid into the booth across from him, pulling a stack of notes from your tote bag. “Well, today’s the big day. We’re interviewing Mrs. Park. She’s ninety-three, has twelve cats, and once punched a man for stealing her garden gnome.”

Yoongi looked up. Barely. “Sounds riveting.”

You leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “You’re going to love her. She used to be a jazz singer in the '60s and keeps brandy in her teapot.”

His lip twitched. A maybe-smile? Almost?

You didn’t push it.

By the time you arrived, the air was thick with sea breeze and blooming hibiscus. Mrs. Park’s house was painted lemon yellow, covered in ivy and wind chimes.

You rang the doorbell. Yoongi stood behind you, visibly regretting his life choices.

The door opened. “Darlings!” Mrs. Park exclaimed, beaming. “You must be the interviewer and the grump.”

You blinked. “Wait— how did you—”

“Oh, I know everything,” she said with a wink, ushering you both inside. “Tea?”

Ten minutes later, you sat in her vintage living room, a recorder between you, a teacup in hand, and one of her cats curled on Yoongi’s lap like it had found a kindred soul.

He didn’t even try to stop it.

You hit record.

“So, Mrs. Park,” you began, “tell us about your time as a jazz singer in Seoul?”

“Oh, it was scandalous,” she said. “There was a saxophonist once who fell in love with me and tried to serenade me outside a hotel window. Problem is, it was the wrong window. Poor Mrs. Kim fainted.”

Yoongi snorted. Just once. Quietly.

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“I heard it.”

“Play the recording and prove it.”

You grinned.

The sun was dipping low when you and Yoongi walked back to the café. The evening breeze tangled through your hair. He had his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched, but he wasn’t rushing ahead like usual.

“She liked you,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“She called me emotionally constipated.”

You giggled. “Only because you are.”

He rolled his eyes. “What are we doing next?”

“The community board wants an open mic night. Think we can make it happen?”

Yoongi groaned. “I came back here to disappear, not listen to a kid read slam poetry about frogs.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “What if I promise you free coffee for a week?”

He glanced sideways at you. “Two weeks.”

You smirked. “Deal.”

And just like that, you noticed it. The way he walked a little slower now, closer. The way his eyes didn’t always look away.

Like maybe, just maybe. Summer wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The next few days were a blur of scribbled lists, butcher paper posters, and arguments about fonts.

“You can’t use Comic Sans,” Yoongi said flatly, staring at your half finished poster on the café counter.

“It’s not Comic Sans,” you protested.

He pointed. “That’s literally Comic Sans.”

You huffed and turned the poster around. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

He grabbed a pen and without saying a word, started sketching something with deliberate strokes. His handwriting clean, sharp, annoyingly stylish. You watched from across the counter, arms crossed, pretending not to be impressed.

“Okay, that looks cool,” you admitted.

He shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“Tell that to your font choices.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a little flutter in your chest. A weird warmth that came whenever Yoongi focused like that. Like he wasn’t trying to be impressive. He was just... him.

You were wiping tables while Yoongi counted tips at the register. Not that you asked him to. He just did it. Silently. Like he always did lately. Like he was making himself useful without needing praise.

“I’m thinking,” you said aloud, “we could hang some fairy lights. Maybe use the back patio. Put out cushions and have a ‘sunset session’ vibe.”

Yoongi didn’t respond.

You glanced up.

He was staring out the window. Hands still. Brow furrowed.

“Hey,” you said gently, walking over. “You okay?”

He blinked and turned to you, blinking like he forgot you were there.

“Yeah. Just… remembering.”

You waited.

“My mom used to do that,” he murmured. “Host these little nights with music and food. She called them ‘evening peace offerings’ after she’d yell at me and my brother for fighting.”

You smiled softly. “She sounds fun.”

“She was.” He paused. “She died when I was sixteen.”

Your heart cracked just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice low.

He nodded. “I haven’t thought about that stuff in a long time. Feels weird.”

You leaned against the counter beside him. “Memories sneak up on you like that. Especially in places that smell like sugar and regret.”

That pulled a laugh from him. The small kind. The real kind.

“I don’t regret coming back,” he said suddenly, surprising both of you.

You turned to him, eyes meeting his.

“I’m glad,” you said softly.

The silence between you was full, not awkward. Thick with things not yet said but gently waiting their turn.

Yoongi was scribbling again in his corner booth. Hoodie off, headphones half-on, one hand buried in his hair as he wrote. The café was quiet, golden light flooding the floor, and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

You were restocking the napkin holders when he got up to use the restroom. On instinct, your eyes drifted to his open notebook.

You didn’t mean to read.

But your name was there. Written in small cursive, tucked into the edge of a line:

“She talks like caffeine, hands warm like sunrise, all sugar and second chances.”

Your breath caught.

You stepped back just as he returned, his gaze dropping immediately to the notebook. Then to you.

The air shifted.

“I didn’t read it,” you said too quickly.

His jaw flexed. “You did.”

You bit your lip. “Okay, I peeked.”

He snatched it closed. “Don’t.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I just… Yoongi, that was beautiful.”

He didn’t say anything. Just sank back into the booth and pulled his hoodie up.

But this time, he didn’t plug in his headphones.

This time, he stayed in the silence with you.

The fairy lights blinked to life just after sunset.

You stood on the café’s back patio, barefoot on the wood decking, clutching a clipboard and trying not to have a breakdown over the mic cord that refused to untangle. A half-circle of mismatched cushions, folding chairs, and picnic blankets spread across the lawn like a patchwork dream. You had no idea who was actually going to show up. But somehow, the place was filling. Buzzing. Warm.

The air smelled like lavender lemonade and early summer promise.

“You okay?” Hana whispered, nudging you gently. She was managing the lemonade table in a flowy skirt and flower earrings, always in her element.

You gave a tense smile. “I think I’m about to throw up.”

She laughed. “You’re fine. You’ve been planning this for two weeks. Everyone looks happy. Even Grumpy.”

You followed her gaze.

Yoongi was leaning against the patio railing, watching everything with his usual unreadable expression. Hands in his pockets, black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, moonlight catching in his hair.

He was early. That alone was a miracle.

You swallowed hard. “He’s just here for the free drinks.”

Hana raised a brow. “He looks like he’s here for you.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Because maybe he was. And maybe that terrified you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you took the mic, hands trembling only a little.

“Hi, everyone,” you began, voice carrying over the soft crowd noise. “Welcome to ‘Evening Offerings’ An open mic night for anyone who’s ever had something stuck in their chest that needed to be said out loud.”

A soft murmur of laughter and claps followed.

You smiled, scanning the crowd. Catching his eyes without meaning to. Yoongi didn’t smile, but he nodded once. Just once. And it felt like enough.

The first performer was a nervous twelve-year-old named Mina, who read a poem about her golden retriever. Her voice shook, but you kneeled beside the stage with a thumbs-up and the whole crowd clapped like she’d just read Shakespeare.

Then came a college student with a guitar and too many feelings, followed by an older woman who shared a song about her divorce and lavender oil, and somehow made everyone laugh through their tears.

Yoongi remained in the second row. Still. Watching. Scribbling something in his notebook between performances.

The more the night unfolded, the more magic seemed to settle in the air.

It wasn’t about perfection. It was about honesty. About people fumbling for something true in front of strangers and somehow finding it.

And then… just before the final slot, you saw movement in the corner of your eye.

Yoongi stood up.

Notebook in hand.

You blinked, stunned, as he walked up to the mic, slow and steady like someone walking toward a cliff edge. He didn’t look at you.

Not yet.

He cleared his throat, voice soft but steady. “I didn’t plan to share,” he said. “But… someone reminded me recently that silence can be just as heavy as noise.”

The crowd quieted. Even the crickets paused.

He opened his notebook.

His voice was a little rough, like gravel softened by the ocean.

“She talks like caffeine,” “hands warm like sunrise,” “all sugar and second chances.”

You felt your pulse stutter. You didn’t move.

“She doesn’t know I write her into my mornings,” “how her laugh unclenches things in me I didn’t know were fists.”

He looked up, just briefly.

Right at you.

“She’s summer.” “And I’ve always been winter.” “But she never asked me to change.”

The words landed like soft punches to your chest.

And for a second, all the noise in the world went silent.

The crowd clapped. Hesitant at first, then louder, real. Some people whistled. Someone cheered.

Yoongi stepped down quickly, eyes on the ground, disappearing behind the side of the café like he couldn’t handle staying there any longer.

You gave the mic to Hana, barely heard her close the night, and followed him into the darkness behind the café where the stars blinked above like they were eavesdropping.

He stood near the back door, arms crossed, pretending not to be affected.

“You wrote that,” you said breathlessly.

He looked at you but didn’t speak.

“You shared that,” you repeated, softer.

Yoongi exhaled. “It was stupid.”

“No,” you said. “It was brave.”

A pause.

He laughed once, low and bitter. “You make people brave. That’s the problem.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because then they start hoping.”

Your heart squeezed.

“You think I haven’t?” you asked quietly.

He looked up. Really looked.

You stepped closer. The air between you crackled. “You think I haven’t been hoping for weeks?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he reached up, slowly, carefully, and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His fingertips lingered.

“You scare me,” he murmured.

“Because I see you?” you whispered.

You took another step. Chest to chest now. Close enough to feel the tension in his breath.

And then, finally.

He leaned in.

The kiss was slow. Barely there at first. Like he was afraid to mess it up. Like he’d been dreaming it and didn’t want to wake.

And you kissed him back, with all the warmth and ache and summer promise that had been building in your chest. Since the first day he walked in with his hoodie and his scowl and his hidden kindness.

Somewhere behind you, fireflies blinked.

Like applause.

Like magic.

#bts scan #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #bangtan

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backtothefanfiction · 2 days ago

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The Weapon/Collateral Damage | Joaquin Torres x Reader Imagine

Summary: maybe being the new Falcon’s girlfriend wasn’t the best idea after all.

Warnings: kidnapping, experimentation, torture, angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I had an idea just before bed and ran with it. Not sure I’m happy with the ending but it is what it is. As I said I wrote it just before bed so probably some mistakes that have slipped through the cracks.

You had tried to wait up for him. You always tried to wait up for him, but when the clock hit midnight your eyes grew heavy. Begrudgingly you got ready for bed, climbing underneath the covers with every intention of reading a few chapters of your book. Surely he’d be back soon.

You startled awake at the sound of something out in the living room. You were sure you could hear shuffling feet and a male voice muttering. You checked the time on your phone 2:30am. It was late for him, but not that late, especially when you’d thought about how far away him and Sam had been working.

“Joaquin?” You called out as you stumbled into the hallway and made your way through the apartment to the open living diner, but there was no response. It made your hackles rise.

“Joaquin?” You said again. You were sure you had heard something. “Joaquin?” You called out one last time as you entered the room, but there was no one there. You could have sworn you heard-

There was a sudden pinch in your neck and you reached your hand up to try and feel what it was, but you suddenly felt very heavy. You were aware of arms catching you as you began to fall, but then, there was nothing.

When you woke again your tongue felt heavy. Your head throbbed slightly and it took all your effort to force your eyes to open. You were definitely conscious, but your body was taking its time to catch up. You tried to lift your arms and rub away the heavy tiredness from your eyes, but they wouldn’t move. You tried again, but something was holding them in place.

You tried to move your legs, having equally as little luck as something dug into your ankles. You groaned in frustration. Your eyes finally opened and began to focus. It was bright. Too bright. Far too bright for you to be at home. You tried to think back to what you last remembered. You had been at home waiting for Joaquin when… Someone had taken you. Someone had broken into the apartment and taken you. But why? And what did they want?

You tried to move again. Tried to sit up, but you were firmly strapped down. Your heartbeat began to rapidly rise as fear suddenly took over.

“Hey!!! Hello!!! Is anybody there?!” You called out.

You tried to turn your head and look around the room better. To look for anyone. Look for answers. But there weren’t any. There was just the horrible white ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights.

You had been taken. Kidnapped. Most likely because of who you were dating. Because you were close to superheroes. You thrashed wildly as you tried once again to wiggle free of your restraints, but they were too tight. It was no use.

“HELP!” You cried out. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“Now, now, there’ll be none of that,” a male voice came from one side of the room as a door opened.

You quickly stilled, listening closely to the man’s footsteps grow closer.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” You asked trying to sound brave, but your voice shook and tears threatened your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter who I am, my dear. I’m more interested in who you are. Yes, you’re very important indeed,” he said. There was a sound of rattling metal moving across the floor and you desperately tried to look to your right to see him move a rolling metal tray into view. A plethora of medical equipment on top.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, fear laced into every word you spoke.

“I’m gonna make you better,” he said in a soft and cheerful voice, but his words did very little to comfort you. “Now, you may feel a slight pinch.” You watched as he plunged a needle into your arm.

“What’s that?” You asked, but you didn’t have time to get an answer as the blue liquid in the syringe was squeezed into your veins. Your body began to tense and thrash, it felt like fire passing through your blood and you began to thrash and scream.

“Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” he said again before he moved to place a mask over your nose and mouth. Gas was slowly pumped into it and before you knew it you began to feel woozy again.

“That’s it, atta girl,” the man said and your body began to relax until your eyes grew heavy and everything went black.

When you woke up next you were lying alone in a cell. There was a small toilet and sink in the corner, but apart from that, there was nothing else other than the mattress on the floor you were currently lying on. It was so dark. There was a faint red light in the corner of the room, but nothing else. No windows. No nothing.

“Hello?” You called out as you forced yourself to sit up. “HELLO!” You called louder when you got no response.

Your skin felt itchy. No not your skin, it was something deeper. More of a mild burning sensation you couldn’t get rid of.

“HELLLOOOO!” You called again as you slowly began to stand.

Your legs were wobbly as you tried to slowly feel for a door. You thought you could hear a siren going off in the distance. Suddenly there was a click of a latch, letting you know, not just where the door was, but that it was now open. This was all so weird. Where were you? What was going on?

You slowly stepped out into the light of a corridor. The lights were all dimmed and there was a swirling red warning light high up on the wall at one end of the corridor. When you looked to the right there was a heavy set of double doors. Both firmly shut tight. You looked to the left to find another set of doors at the other end of the corridor, but these ones were propped open.

You moved towards the open doors. The whole place looked like a deserted hospital ward. There was no one in sight. It unnerved you. Your heart rate began to rise, your palms growing sweaty as you slowly stumbled towards an empty lab and the memory of being tied down and the creepy man came back to you. The feeling of the blue liquid being injected into your veins. What the?

There was the sound of heavy boots running down the hall. “Y/N!” You heard his voice call. Joaquin.

You turned just in time to see him come to a stop in the open doorway to the lab.

“Joaquin?” You said shakily.

“I’m here baby, I’m here,” he said, trying to cross the room to you, but you stepped back.

“No, no, no! Stay back!” You shouted at him, throwing your hands up, trying to get him to stop.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately freezing, his own look of panic falling over his face.

“They did something to me,” you said frightened. “They injected me with something and-“ as your fear continued to rise, so did that burning feeling under your skin. As you continued to panic, your hands began to glow. There was definitely something not right.

“Baby, I need you to breathe and calm down for me,” Joaquin tried to coach you, but it was no use. You were so far gone. The fear and terror over your situation was fully taking over. “Y/N,” he warned as that brightness and burning sensation in your hands grew.

You began to shake them, unsure of what else to do.

“Baby, just stay still, don’t move. I need you to just breathe for me okay. Focus on me. Just me. Okay? Slowly now, slowly.”

“What’s happening to me?” You asked frantically, your voice shaking as tears spilled from your eyes.

“We’re gonna work this out together okay? I just need you to calm down, okay?… Y/N?”

Joaquin ducked for cover as that blinding light took over and burst from your hands, burning a hole in the wall just behind where Joaquin had been standing. It scared the life out of you. You almost hit him. That would have killed him… Hang on a second, that’s exactly what they wanted. To make you a weapon. So you would take down your own boyfriend.

“Baby?” Joaquin said placatingly again as he stood in front of you. You just looked at your hands in disbelief.

This wasn’t happening. No…

“Y/N, look at me. I’m right here. I’m right here with you,” Joaquin said urgently and when you looked at him you could see his own fear and worry in his eyes. The guilt knowing he was the reason this had happened to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking.

“Don’t you dare be sorry. This isn’t your fault okay? We’ll get through this,” he said, but you were so worried you wouldn’t. What if you would never be okay again?

The fear began to make that light take over again.

“Baby, I need you to talk to me. Come on, talk to me. Let me help you, bottling everything up is only gonna make it worse,” he said before he jumped to the side again as another burst of energy blasted from your hands.

“Ahhhh make it stop!” You screamed desperately trying to keep your hands directed away from him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you cried through sobs. “Joaquin, I'm so scared.”

“I know, I know,” he said, steadily trying to step forward towards you. “I’ve got you, okay. We’ll get through this together like we always do. Okay?”

You nodded, not unable to get any words past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t want any of this,” you finally said.

“I know, I know,” he said again softly, his hand reaching out for you but not quite touching you, as if he was waiting for you to be ready to come to him. “We’ll get through this, okay? I just need you to trust me. Let me take you home.”

You shook your head. You couldn’t trust yourself, not like this. What if you hurt someone?

“Baby?” he said warily as you began to back away from him.

“I’m a weapon. They made me a weapon. To hurt you! I won’t! Please don’t make me-“

He moved quickly, grabbing both of your arms and holding them at your sides, forcing you to look at him. You swallowed deeply, trying to push away all the panic and fear.

“I’ve got you,” he said calmly. “I trust you.”

“But what if I hurt-“

“You’re not gonna hurt me. Okay, just ignore it for a second. Just breathe. Just be here with me. Breathe with me. In,” he said, taking a deep breath in and your tried to copy him. “And out,” he said slowly exhaling. “In….. and out. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. But just breathe. In… and out.”

Slowly you began to calm and the light under your skin began to fade. “In… and out.” Joaquin continued to coach. “I’ve got you,” he reminded you, his thumb rubbing softly over your arm. “I’ve got you.”

When you were calm enough, you allowed him to pull you fully into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he said into the top of your head as he held you close to him. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry.” You gently began to cry against him but it was with relief and a feeling of safety, not fear.

“We’ll fix this,” he said as he pulled himself back to look into your eyes, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks tenderly. “I’ll fix this, I promise.” He said and you hoped he could. Hoped that everything would be okay. But unfortunately as you felt that burning feeling still tickling your veins, you feared it never would be again.

#joaquín torres #joaquin torres #Joaquin Torres imagine #Joaquin Torres x reader #the falcon #mcu #mcu fan fiction

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stvrrlau · 3 days ago

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𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.

⤷⤷ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 stiles just wants to be your boyfriend.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.ᐟ awkward!flustered!stiles⋆skeptical!fem!reader

𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ drabble, pure fluff, teasing, based on a song bc yes and yes included the lyrics LISTEN TO IT AS YOU READ TRUST ME, stiles is just a silly guy who really likes you >w<

𝘴𝘵𝘷𝘳𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.ᐟ OMG HI AGAIN what this isn't kpop WELL I FELL IN LOVE WITH TEEN WOLF OKAY so uh expect random fanfics of this silly lil guy cause I LOVE HIM and also im rlly sorry 4 not posting alot i have exams next month and im sorta panicking AND OMG TYSM 4 40 FOLLOWERS I LOVE U GUYS SM ILL MAKE SMTH SPECIAL 4 YALL WHEN I HIT 50 MWAH MWAH REBLOGS+LIKES+COMMENTS APPRECIATED!!!!! wrd count۶ৎ 955

STILES

“ugh, i just want a boyfriend. is that too much to ask for?”

stiles was not eavesdropping.

he just happened to be passing by when he spotted you and very conveniently began rummaging through his bag for a paperclip for his next lesson—lacrosse.

he also happened to overhear—accidently—what you were saying about wanting a boyfriend.

“seriously,” you continued, “just someone to talk to, hold my hand, text me good morning, you know?”

stiles could hear his heart pound in his ears.

he absolutely could do that for you. he wanted to do that for you. he had practiced being that person for you more times in the mirror than he cared to admit.

“oh come on, having a boyfriend isn’t all that great.” lydia said, trying to cheer you up.

it would be great if he was your boyfriend.

“you’re only saying that since you have your perfect situationship and allison gets attention from like, every single guy in school.”

‘not mine though.’ stiles thought as he listened to you whine about not having a special person. he wished he could be that special person for you.

apparently, stiles was listening a little too hard because he didn’t realise the next thing he would walk into was you.

he could feel his brain short-circuit.

“stiles! what are you doing here? don’t you have lacrosse next? why are you near the science labs?”

stiles could barely process what you were saying, his brain completely fried from the way you were looking up at him—wide eyes, curious, big smile on your face. he thought he was about to pass out.

“stiles?” you asked again, shaking his shoulder gently.

that did it for him.

“I COULD BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!” he quickly blurted out, at a much louder volume that he had hoped for. noticing the odd stares he had gotten from the people in the corridors he cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to speak again. he shut it. then opened it again.

“i—uh—only if you want—boyfriend—yeah.”

you stared up at him with a blank stare. blinked. then blinked again before smiling.

“yeah, thanks stiles.” you half-laughed, patting his arm before walking past him to head over to chemistry, “see ya later.”

clearly yn didn’t think he was serious.

well stiles would just have to show you that he was.

———

as soon as lacrosse finished, stiles rushed out of the changing rooms as fast as possible, leaving scott alone and confused on what on earth his best friend could be planning.

panting, stiles fumbled with the piece of paper in his hands, before shoving it through the barely-big-enough gap in your locker.

now you’d have to take him seriously.

———

the final bell rung, echoing through the school as i trudged over to my locker, prepared to go home and sleep for an eternity.

as i opened my locker, i was expecting piles and piles of books to greet me—which they did. what i did not expect was a piece of paper, neatly folded but crinkled, to fall and hit me on the head. it landed onto the ground and i quickly picked it up, curious to see what it could be.

upon my inspection, i saw my name scribbled onto the outside of it—as a reassurance that it was meant for me.

i unfolded and smoothed out the sheet, reading the messy handwriting, still trying to figure out whose it could be.

everyday i see you on your own.

and i cant believe that you're alone.

but i overheard your girls and this is what they said.

that you’re looking for a boyfriend, i see that.

give me time, you know i’m gonna be there.

don’t be scared to come, put your trust in me.

can’t you see, all i really wanna be is your boyfriend!

if you tell me where, i’m waiting here.

—stiles.

i re-read the note several times, trying to process what was happening. stiles actually wanted to be my boyfriend!?

without wasting another second, i slammed my locker door shut and ran down the hallway, swiftly ducking in and out of the crowds of people. i quickly pushed open the doors, the brightness of the sun making me squint as i searched for stiles.

where could he be?

almost as if someone had read my thoughts, i heard the sound of his laugh—that same laugh i hadn’t realised how much i liked.

there he was, walking with scott, laughing, head thrown back, hand clutching his bag strap, making my heart stutter. i licked my lips nervously before quickly focusing back into reality.

there was no time to daydream—i had to reach him!

i half-ran, half-fell down the stairs, lungs burning and legs screaming at me to stop.

“stiles!” i exclaimed, a couple meters behind the pair. stiles paused and turned around, meeting my eyes. his face immediately reddened slightly as i finally caught up to them, panting.

“yn—hi.” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly expecting the worst.

“i’ll—be—your—girlfriend—” i panted, clutching my chest, the crumpled letter in my other.

stiles’ eyes widened to the size of saucers and i half-expected him to start rubbing his eyes like a cartoon character to confirm that this wasn't a dream.

“w-what..?” he stammered, face even redder now.

“oh for god's sake stiles, she said she’ll be your girlfriend!” scott groaned, face buried in his hands, watching the scene before him unfold.

stiles nodded slowly before a huge grin appeared on his face.

“i won’t let you down.” he said, interlacing our hands.

“good.” i grinned back.

“finally.” scott muttered as if was annoyed but his smile gave it away that he was happy for his friend. for us.

stiles. boyfriend. my boyfriend.

#drabble #fanfic #fluff #fluffy fluff #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf fic #teen wolf stiles x reader #stiles x reader #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf mtv #teen wolf fanfiction

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wbbobsesserr · 6 hours ago

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ᯓ sweet spot — chapter five

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

notes: we’re finally back on track! everyone cheers. chapter six, aka a new chapter, should be expected soon. also please lemme know what you wanna see in future chapters, i’ve run out of ideas. love you.

my masterlist

wc: 4.6k

azzi and paige split after eating a quick breakfast together. the second she made it back to her own room, she face-planted onto her bed, groaning into the blanket.

she needed to debrief.

 she needed to scream into the void.

instead, she grabbed her phone and thumbed open her text thread with nika, typing furiously:

paige: dude paige: i think i’m actually in love paige: like not in a cute haha kinda way paige: like if she looked at me and said “let’s move to a cabin in the woods and raise goats” i would pack my shit TONIGHT paige: if she said “hey will you marry me” i’d say yes so fast it would be embarrassing paige: i don’t even care if it’s a ring pop. i don’t even care if she’s kidding. i’d be at the altar in three seconds flat paige: is that insane paige: i think it’s insane paige: but like. she’s it. she’s actually it. i’m done for.

send.

paige sighed, a deep dramatic breath, and tossed her phone onto her bed like she was done thinking about it.

except.

something gnawed at her gut.

a bad feeling.

a really, really bad feeling.

she sat up, grabbed her phone again— and saw it.

azzi: uhhhhh 👀👀👀 azzi: so do i get to know who the lucky girl is or azzi: bc tbh i kinda wanna hear more about this goat farm plan lmao

paige pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. of course she accidentally sent it to azzi— god had sick jokes.

“fuck my life.”

she wanted to run into incoming traffic. throw herself off a goddamn bridge. cease to fucking exist.

instead she choked out a breathless reply:

paige: hahaha paige: just a dumb thought paige: ignore me pls

another buzz, almost instantly:

azzi: nooo i like it it’s cute lol azzi: i hope whoever she is knows how lucky she is

paige flopped back against her bed.

“you are,” she shouted to her ceiling. “you’re the lucky one. it’s you.”

but her phone stayed silent in her hand. because some things— the biggest, scariest things— she still couldn’t say.

not yet. 

maybe not ever.

paige stood at azzi’s door, her heart thumping against her ribs. she’d half-expected her to cancel at the last minute, or maybe send her a “never mind” text. but no— azzi had texted her earlier today, asking if she wanted to come over, just to hang out since noah wasn’t around. casual. chill. no big deal.

right.

so, here she was, standing in front of azzi’s door, feeling a little like a wreck. paige wasn’t good at casual when it came to azzi. she was mildly good at making everything seem chill, acting like it was nothing, but the truth was, she was about one glance away from combusting.

she knocked three times, quickly, the kind of knock that made it sound like she was overly eager, but then stepped back, trying to cross her arms and act like her heart wasn’t going a million miles per minute.

the door swung open and azzi stood there, in a simple sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. as always, she looked effortlessly cool, like she wasn’t trying, like she didn’t have the power to make paige’s heart go haywire simply by existing.

“hey,” azzi greeted her, a smile already pulling at her lips. “i’m so glad you came over.”

paige swallowed, forcing a calm smile. “of course,” she said, voice just a little too high-pitched for her liking. “anytime. literally.”

azzi stepped aside to let her in, and the scent of vanilla hit paige as she walked through the door. azzi’s room had this cozy, lived-in feel— books piled on a desk, a few stray clothes draped over a chair, a couple of photos of her teammates on the wall. it was warm, inviting, and paige had to remind herself that this was just a hangout. just two people chilling. no big deal.

“want something to drink?” azzi asked, already heading over to her mini-fridge.

“um, i’m good,” paige replied, but she was already looking around the room, trying to seem like she wasn’t sweating bullets. “thanks, though.”

azzi looked over her shoulder, her eyes soft.

after that, they both just sort of hovered there for a second, like neither one of them quite knew what to do next. it was too quiet. and paige had to get out of her head before she made it worse.

“actually,” paige spoke up, her voice coming out a little faster than she intended, “i was thinking maybe we could go out for ice cream or something? just to— y'know, get outta here for a bit.”

azzi blinked, tilting her head. “ice cream?”

“yeah,” paige rushed to explain, her face flushing a little. “just, you know. i could go for some mint chip and... just hang out. only if you’re down.”

azzi laughed lightly, that soft sound that always seemed to make paige’s chest tighten. “i like that idea. let me grab my jacket.”

azzi disappeared for a second, and paige took the opportunity to steady her breathing. what is wrong with me, she thought, pacing just a little bit in her mind. this was nothing new— she and azzi had hung out plenty of times before, but today... today felt different. she couldn’t tell if it was because of her dumb text from last night (which, by the way, she was still embarrassed about), or if it was the way azzi had smiled at her today, or the fact that they were going out just the two of them.

azzi returned, looking effortlessly cute in a jacket that fit her perfectly, her sneakers clicking softly against the floor as she walked. “ready?” she asked, eyes lighting up with that excitement that paige loved so much.

they walked outside, and paige kept her pace slow, trying to match azzi’s, but she couldn’t help the way her heart picked up when azzi casually looped her arm through paige’s. it wasn’t flirtatious, wasn’t suggestive— it was just azzi being azzi: comfortable, sweet. but for paige, it felt like everything. every step was too much, and not enough at the same time.

“good thing the ice cream place is so close,” azzi said, looking at paige with that soft smile again. “i’m starving.”

“same,” paige muttered, her voice a little too tight. she cleared her throat. “i’m really— really glad you asked me to hang.”

azzi glanced over, catching paige’s gaze, and smiled. “i’m glad i asked you too,” she agreed, “really glad.”

paige could feel herself blushing, her heart thumping louder. she forced herself to look straight ahead instead of at azzi, and just tried to focus on the fact that they were walking side by side, and that, for now, was enough.

when they reached the ice cream shop, it was small and cozy, and there was a short line. paige stayed close, still feeling the weight of azzi’s arm looped through hers, even though they weren’t holding hands or anything. it felt natural, but paige couldn’t ignore how it made her feel— like she was a little closer to azzi than she had ever been before.

azzi ordered first, mentioning how she was in the mood for something with chocolate, and paige quickly followed suit, pointing to a flavor she’d been craving all day— mint chocolate chip, her all time favorite.

when it came time to pay, azzi barely had the opportunity to move before paige stopped her, placing her hand on azzi’s arm. “i’ve got it,” she said quickly, not giving azzi a chance to protest.

azzi raised an eyebrow, the smallest smirk playing at her lips. “paige, really, it’s fine.”

“azzi. i asked to come here, i’m paying,” paige insisted, digging into her wallet and pulling out her credit card.

she handed it over before azzi could argue, because, well, this was just how paige worked— stubborn, determined, and maybe a little bit nervous.

azzi smiled softly, like she wasn’t sure what to say, and paige pretended she wasn’t completely melting at the sight.

“thanks,” azzi said, her voice gentle. “you didn’t have to, but i appreciate it.”

they found a bench nearby, sitting side by side and just... being there. paige scooped the mint flavor, trying not to make it look like she was overthinking every little thing.

azzi was quiet too, enjoying her ice cream, and for a while, there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the evening air, and the quiet conversation that filled in the gaps.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” azzi said again, taking another scoop in her mouth. “it’s nice to just relax. no expectations.”

“yeah,” paige agreed, glancing sideways at azzi. she really meant it. “it’s been a weird few weeks, but today’s been good.”

azzi nodded, looking over at her for a moment before speaking again. “yeah. i always like hanging out with you. you’re really fun.”

that made paige’s stomach flip in the best (and worst) way. “i’m glad,” she repeated softly, her eyes trailing to the ground for a second before meeting azzi’s gaze. “it’s easy to talk to you.”

azzi grinned, eyes twinkling, as if she hadn’t even realized the weight of what she said. “i'm happy you feel that way, too.”

they both sat in silence for a moment, eating their ice cream, neither one of them saying what they really wanted to say. but for now, this was enough.

the next day, the team met for dinner in the dining hall after wrapping up their classes. paige showed up late, hoodie pulled up over her messy blonde hair, headphones on and music blasting. the noise of the dining hall wasn’t quite as loud as usual, but there was a buzz in the air— people talking, laughing, the usual chatter. paige made her way through the crowded tables and spotted an empty seat next to caroline, sliding in with a sigh of relief.

but azzi wasn’t there.

that was weird. azzi was always on time. always present.

paige’s eyes darted around the table, scanning for any sign of her. nothing. just caroline and nika, both eating like everything was normal.

“where’s azzi?” paige asked, tugging off her headphones and letting them rest around her neck.

caroline shrugged, not looking up from her food. “no idea. she left early after practice.”

paige’s stomach twisted, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. the last time she’d seen azzi was... well, earlier that day, when they’d hung out. everything had seemed fine, but now she wasn’t even at dinner?

“maybe with noah?” nika suggested, glancing up from her phone.

paige’s throat tightened at the mention of noah, azzi’s long-distance boyfriend. she texted azzi quickly, not even thinking about it.

paige: u okay?

no answer.

she stared at her phone for a few seconds, then texted again.

paige: saw u weren’t at dinner. just checking in.

still nothing.

that feeling in her stomach was only getting worse.

paige glanced over at caroline and nika, both of them talking about some random thing, clearly not noticing the shift in her. she pushed her tray away from her, stood up abruptly, and grabbed her phone again.

“hey, i’ll be back,” she said, her voice just a little too sharp, making the girls look up. “i think i’ll go check on azzi.”

without waiting for a response, she left, pushing through the doors and into the cool evening air. the walk to azzi’s dorm was a blur, her thoughts a mess of confusion and nerves. was everything okay? why wasn’t azzi at dinner? why was she ignoring her texts? did she do something wrong?

when she finally reached the dorm, she was out of breath from the jog, but she didn’t stop. she didn’t even think to knock. she just tried the door handle.

locked.

paige’s heart dropped, a tight knot forming in her chest. she knocked softly at first. no answer. her hand was shaking, but she knocked again, louder this time, her heart thudding in her chest like it was trying to escape.

there was a pause. then, the door cracked open just an inch. azzi’s red-rimmed eyes met hers, and paige’s heart did a little flip.

“azzi,” paige breathed, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “what happened?”

azzi didn’t answer immediately. she just stepped back, opening the door wider, letting paige in without a word.

paige stepped inside and stopped in her tracks.

the room was dim, lit only by the small desk lamp in the corner. tissues were scattered across her desk. azzi moved to sit on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs, her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she was trying to hide from the world. her eyes were puffy, red, tears still clinging to her lashes.

“noah cheated,” azzi’s voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like a punch to paige’s gut. “he said it happened once. a party. someone he barely knew. it just— he just said it like it didn’t matter.”

paige froze, not quite sure if she’d heard her right. “what?”

azzi swallowed hard, her lips trembling as she tried to hold it together. “he said it didn’t mean anything. that it was a mistake.”

paige stood there, frozen. her heart was pounding, but she didn’t know what to say. she took a step forward, slow, careful, like azzi might break if she moved too quickly. paige blinked once, stunned— and then the emotion hit her hard and fast. anger. sharp and hot in her chest.

“what a fucking bitch,” she muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

azzi looked up at her, startled, a tiny breath of something that almost sounded like a laugh catching in her throat.

paige’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “seriously. who the hell does he think he is? you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve any of it.”

azzi ducked her head, a few fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks, but there was a tiny, almost invisible smile too. like she wasn’t used to someone getting mad for her.

paige took a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down. she softened again, reaching out carefully, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee.

“i’m so sorry,” paige said, quieter this time. her voice still shook with the weight of how much she meant it.

they sat in silence a while after that. azzi was staring at the wall, her eyes unfocused. it was a heavy kind of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward; more painful than anything.

“all i said was ‘thanks for telling me,’“ azzi laughed, but it came out weak. “i’m so stupid,” her voice cracking slightly as she looked at the ground.

paige sat next to her, not too close but just enough to show she was there. she reached over, her hand resting gently on azzi’s knee. azzi’s gaze flickered down to her hand, and paige’s heart raced, the weight of the touch pressing into her chest.

“you’re not stupid,” paige insisted, her voice soft but firm. “he’s the one who messed up, not you.”

azzi exhaled shakily. “i thought we were solid. kinda. even with the distance.”

“you were,” paige said, her eyes meeting azzi’s. “he wasn’t.”

there was another long pause. azzi looked so small in that moment, curled up in on herself like she didn’t know how to piece things back together. paige wanted to say more, wanted to make everything better, but she didn’t know how.

she just stayed silent, letting her hand linger on azzi’s knee, offering what little comfort she could.

after what felt like an eternity, azzi let out a shaky breath and leaned into paige, just a little, like the exhaustion was finally catching up to her. paige didn’t pull away. she didn’t speak.

she just stayed.

and when azzi’s head rested against her shoulder, paige felt her heart break a little more. not from pity, not from sympathy. but because she could feel it. the weight of everything unspoken between them. the distance between their worlds.

but for now, it was just the two of them in the dim room, with nothing but silence and a shared, unspoken connection.

the silence stretched on, heavy but comforting. azzi’s head was still resting on paige’s shoulder, her breathing evening out as the quiet of the room settled around them. it wasn’t awkward, not at all, but it felt like the weight of everything between them was a little too much to say out loud.

after a while, azzi shifted, sitting up just slightly, her eyes still glossy and tired. she sniffled a little, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

paige, her heart still aching for her, didn’t move, just kept her gaze steady on azzi. “you okay?”

“yeah.” azzi’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “tired. not just from everything, but just... i don’t know. everything’s just too much right now.”

paige nodded, understanding. she felt it, too. the pressure of everything that wasn’t said, of everything that was left unsaid between them.

there was a beat of silence before azzi looked at her with those big eyes, still a little red but softer now. her lips parted as if she were gathering the courage to say something. “hey, um. would it be weird if you stayed the night?”

paige blinked, taken aback. she wasn’t sure what azzi meant by it, but she didn’t hesitate for a second.

“you want me to stay?” paige asked, her voice a little tentative, even though her heart was already thudding in her chest.

azzi gave a small, sad smile, her fingers twisting nervously in her hoodie sleeves. “yeah. i... i don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige’s chest tightened. she didn’t want azzi to be alone either.

“of course,” paige said, her voice gentle and sincere. “i’d love that.”

there was a moment where azzi’s eyes softened with relief, her shoulders relaxing. she gave paige a small, almost shy smile. “thanks.”

“no problem.” paige shifted on the bed, adjusting so she could face azzi more comfortably.

she kicked off her sneakers, leaving them by the door, and slipped under the covers. she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stay on the edge of the bed or... what. but azzi didn’t make it awkward. she just curled up a little tighter, and paige did the same.

the room was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the fan above them and the occasional sound of their breathing. paige wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just existing together in the same space. it was peaceful, but the quiet was different than usual. now, it felt more intimate somehow. like a slow, careful dance of two people who were both a little afraid of stepping on each other’s toes.

the hours drifted by, and eventually, paige started to feel the weight of sleep pulling at her. her body relaxed into the bed, her muscles loosening the tension of the day. but just as her eyelids started to flutter closed, she felt something. a soft touch against her side— azzi’s hand, lightly brushing against hers.

paige’s heart jumped, and her breath caught in her throat. she wasn’t sure if azzi even meant to do it, but the brush of skin sent a wave of warmth through her chest. she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. she simply let it happen.

the quiet was different now. heavier, but not in a bad way. charged. and before she could stop herself, paige slowly moved her hand, just barely, until their fingers brushed once more.

it felt like a spark. small, but intense.

azzi didn’t pull away. in fact, she seemed to relax into the touch. the warmth of her hand against paige’s felt grounding. natural.

paige’s heart beat a little faster, but she tried to stay still, tried not to overthink it. azzi was hurting, and paige just wanted to be there. to be whatever she needed.

then, just as the night settled deeper, there was another soft shift. this time, azzi’s hand moved, her fingers curling slightly as if asking for more. paige hesitated for a moment, but then she intertwined her fingers with hers, just gently. like it was the easiest thing in the world.

but god, was she nervous.

“you’re warm,” azzi whispered, her voice tired but steady.

paige scrunched her lips, trying to act as calm and collected as possible. “yeah, um— it’s kinda hot in here. that’s all.”

it was nearly winter. in connecticut.

azzi hummed, and instead of teasing paige further, she squeezed paige’s hand just a little tighter. the touch was quiet, sweet, and in that moment, paige realized she didn’t have to say everything. not right now. not yet.

still, she let herself shift a little closer, closing the small space between them under the covers. azzi didn’t move away— if anything, she seemed to breathe a little easier.

the room was cool, the fan humming low above them. the atmosphere around them was one paige never wanted to leave. a different kind of comfort. one that made her chest ache in a way she didn’t have words for.

her free hand drifted up almost without thinking, fingertips finding the soft curls at the nape of azzi’s neck. she twisted a strand gently around her finger, slow and absent, like she was afraid to startle her.

for a long moment, paige just watched her. the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested against her eyelids, the steady, even rise and fall of her breathing.

then, in the quietest voice, paige whispered, “i just... i wish you knew how easy you are to love.”

for a second, she thought azzi was already asleep. but then she felt it— the faintest squeeze of her hand, a tiny shift closer under the blankets. not much, but enough to make paige’s heart catch in her throat.

the words hung between them, soft and fragile, but somehow safe here in the dark.

paige smiled to herself, barely, and let her thumb brush lightly over azzi’s knuckles. she stayed like that, twirling a loose curl around her finger, feeling the warmth of azzi’s hand in hers, until sleep finally pulled her under too.

practice wasn’t even over yet, but paige already knew she was doomed.

azzi was across the gym, stretching her quad on the sideline, her practice jersey clinging to her like it was designed specifically to make paige lose her mind. her head was tilted slightly to the side, her curly bun nearly coming loose, a small smile that lit up her face as she chatted with aubrey about who knows what. and god, paige couldn’t stop staring.

“you’re not even being subtle anymore,” caroline muttered beside her, arms crossed, leaning against the bleachers.

paige snapped her gaze away from azzi and tried to act normal, like she wasn’t internally combusting every time azzi moved. “i’m subtle,” she lied, but even she could hear the hesitation in her own voice.

“you’re obsessed,” caroline stated flatly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. she didn’t even look at paige when she said it, just kept her eyes trained on the court.

paige didn’t respond. because, yeah, maybe she was. especially lately. and especially after that night at azzi’s dorm. she’d been trying to play it cool, keep some distance, but the way azzi’s smile made her chest tighten, the way she looked at paige like she mattered— well, that made it impossible.

after noah left, things had shifted between them, but not in some big, dramatic way. not enough for anyone to notice, not enough for anyone to call it out. but it was there, every little moment that passed between them. it was in the way azzi laughed at her jokes, the way she casually touched her arm like it was nothing, the way she always seemed to look for paige in a room full of people. and god— paige wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

they were back in the locker room after practice, the buzz of conversation fading into the background. azzi was stretched out beside paige on the bench, her legs draped casually across paige’s lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. paige was trying her hardest not to hyperventilate. but how could she? azzi, being this close to her, her skin still warm from practice, the scent of her shampoo making paige’s head spin— yeah, she was definitely about to hyperventilate.

“you looked good today,” azzi said, voice soft, her focus still on her phone as her fingers tapped lazily over the screen.

paige blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“on the court,” azzi finished, finally glancing over at paige with that small, private smile that made paige’s heart stutter. “your passing was sharp. you see the floor really well.”

paige couldn’t help it— she just stared at her. “you notice that stuff?”

azz shook her head slightly, a teasing glint in her eye. “i notice you.”

paige’s brain short-circuited. she didn’t even know how to respond to that. she just sat there, trying to stay composed but failing miserably. “you gotta stop saying shit like that,” she managed, her voice a little too high-pitched for her liking.

“why?” azzi tilted her head like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“because,” paige said, her face heating up, “i’m already obsessed with you.”

it was like the room went still, the air thickening with every word. the silence that followed was so heavy, paige could’ve sworn she could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

shit. did she really just say that out loud?

azzi’s brows lifted, eyes wide, and paige felt the world shift beneath her feet. “wait, i— i didn’t mean it like that, not like— okay, i did, but not in a creepy way, it’s just i— fuck—” paige’s brain was spinning, and the words were tripping over each other before she could even try to make sense of them.

then, azzi laughed. softly, breathily, but it was like the sweetest sound paige had ever heard, her chest tightening with the realization that it wasn’t awkward. at all. “you’re cute,” azzi said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. there was no teasing, no judgment— just that quiet, sweet smile.

paige turned so red she could feel the heat on her neck, on her ears, everywhere. she covered her face with her hands, making her best attempt to hide.

“stop,” paige mumbled into her hands, her voice muffled.

azz laughed again, this time with a little more amusement in her tone. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.”

paige snapped her head up, her eyes widening. “what— no! i’m not embarrassed.”

the quiet that followed, mixed with the closeness of azzi beside her, made her feel like her heart might actually explode. and want to die. definitely die.

azzi just smiled at her, small and knowing, like she could see straight through all the panic and nerves and was choosing to be gentle with them anyway.

paige stared at her for a second longer, her mind still scrambled, and then, without thinking, she nudged azzi’s shoulder lightly with her own.

“you’re annoying,” she muttered, mostly to cover up how much she meant all of it. azzi just giggled in return, soft and airy, and nudged her right back.

they sat there like that— shoulders brushing, smiles tugging at their mouths, the silence between them not heavy anymore, but light. easy. like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something neither of them knew how to name yet.

paige felt herself breathe a little easier. for once, she didn’t feel like she had to run from it.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn wbb

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luxcuriousao3 · 2 days ago

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Dove (A Zombie!Ghost Story) Chapter Fourteen

Word Count: 3452 Warnings: some suggestive thoughts/actions, mentions of past abuse, more pining, fluff, minor alcohol use, several large timeskips Notes: There is actually no possible version of this chapter that I'm fully happy with lol. But I hate this one the least. And I hope y'all still find it somewhat enjoyable XD All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider indicates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

AO3 | Masterlist

The snow came down heavily most nights over the next few weeks, and Lelia was stuck in the cottage more often than not, leaving Simon to continue scavenging alone. Food wasn’t as plentiful in the village as they’d hoped, and at one point, Simon brought back two dead, clumsily skinned squirrels after his hunt. Lelia was horrified, shrieking in disgust when she saw them, and then tearing up out of pity for the poor things.

She ate them anyway.

It wasn’t all bad, though. She managed to convince Simon to let her paint his nails after she caught him watching her do her own. He objected to the sparkly pink color she was using, so they compromised on a pretty shade of light blue. He’d gone silent and looked at it for a long time when she first offered it to him, and he’d seemed almost… sad. Or perhaps lost was the better word. When she’d tried to ask him about it, he’d just shrugged and stayed quiet, not even letting out a grunt or groan. She’d pursed her lips in concern, and spent the next hour trying to cheer him up by telling him how stunning he’d look with his new nails.

Simon had pretended not to be amused, but she could tell that he was.

Today, she was reading him poetry when she was struck with a sudden thought.

“Simon,” she said, getting his attention. He opened his eyes, staring up at her from where his head was laying in her lap. She bit her lip, hesitating for a second, but then continued. “Would you… I mean, you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, of course, but— would you like me to try to teach you how to read?”

Simon didn’t answer for a long moment, didn’t so much as move, and she started to worry that she’d upset him. She didn’t know why he couldn’t read—he had to have been able to at some point, to be a soldier, but she didn’t know if he had lost the ability before or after he died. She didn’t even know if he knew.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, when the silence got to her. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to presume—”

Simon cut her off by sitting up and cupping her cheek with one hand, looking into her eyes. The cloudy film on his own had begun to fade two weeks past, showing hints of the brown beneath. It was nice to finally know their color. Just like the dirty blond hair, brown suited him.

Neither of them knew what it meant, that it was coming back. Neither of them dared to hope, either.

“Yyeah,” Simon grunted, tapping the poetry book and nodding. “Llllearn… yyeahh.”

“Yeah?” Lelia echoed, a slow, tentative smile blooming on her face. She felt his thumb dig into the apple of her cheek lightly, and it made her blush. She quickly looked away, down at her book. “Well… I’ll have to grab some paper and a pen, then. We’ll start by relearning the alph—”

Simon’s hand moved to grip her chin, lifting her face again. A small, stuttered breath left her, her eyes widening as they looked into his once more.

Is he going to kiss me?

As soon as she had the thought, she realized how stupid it was—not just because Simon didn't have lips, but because he couldn’t possibly see her in such a way, either.

Do I want him to see me in such a way?

Do I see him that way?

Simon was still staring at her, slightly-less cloudy eyes raking over every inch of her face. His broken jaw quivered where it hung, drool sliding out the corner and down his chin. Without thinking about it, Lelia reached up to wipe it away. A second later, she blinked in surprise at the instinctiveness of the gesture. But what was there to be shocked about? She cleaned his drool all the time. She always had. And she always would.

Oh. Oh.

She sucked in a deep breath, feeling dizzy as the realization rocked through her. She loved him. She loved Simon, her zombie, her protector, her only friend. She felt stupid that she hadn’t noticed her own feelings sooner—how many times had she thought about how handsome he was? How many times had she thought that he was the only person who had ever made her happy? That she was selfishly glad the world had ended, because it had brought them together?

It was so obvious, she almost laughed. But then Simon let go of her and tapped the book again, and the spell was broken. She delicately cleared her throat, trying to ignore the way her heart raced in her chest, and the way her whole world felt like it’d been turned on its head. She could agonize over what she was supposed to do now, how she was supposed to act like everything was normal when she was in love with a zombie who would never love her back—or she could teach that zombie to read, like she had offered. She could avoid ruining her relationship with the only person to ever care about her, or she could risk it all.

Lelia had never been very brave.

“I’ll go get that paper,” she said, making her choice.

Time passed.

He spent most of it in genuine fucking domestic bliss with his dove, cuddled up with her in front of the fireplace when the snow kept her trapped inside, and exploring the village with her when it didn’t. Every little treasure she found made its way back to their cottage, turning it into something resembling a home. She’d even collected a few children’s workbooks for him, and she’d looked so excited that he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed—especially not when they actually helped. He could recognize the first dozen or so letters of the English alphabet, now, all thanks to her. His beautiful miracle worker.

“Hold still,” Lelia scolded him lightly when he reached over to try and run his fingers through her hair. He grumbled but relented as she batted his hand away, focusing back on his bare arm, which was laid out on the kitchen table, palm facing up. She was carefully filling in his tattoos with a fluffy makeup brush and a bunch of colorful eyeshadow. The pallet she’d found the other day was massive, with over two dozen shades, half of which were downright ugly, in his opinion. He also didn't understand why anyone would need five different hues of blue, but Lelia had been ecstatic about that, so he supposed it wasn’t entirely stupid.

His dove had spent the last hour turning his greying, translucent skin into a damn rainbow. Purples, pinks, reds, yellows, oranges, greens, and all those shades of blue filled in the spaces between the black lines of his tattoos. He felt like a bloody coloring book—but it was worth it to see the proud little smile on Lelia’s face when she finally straightened up and set aside her brush.

“There,” she said, pleased. “Now we match.”

She batted her dark lashes at him, drawing attention to the light blue powder on her eyelids. He groaned. Loudly. Lewdly. But she just giggled, innocently unaware. Christ, she had no idea the things she did to him…

It was getting harder and harder to keep his desires to himself. She’d had another wet dream in his arms just the other night, and he nearly gave in right then and there. He'd wanted to touch her, to taste her, so fucking badly. It was only the memory of her teary, devastated face when she’d confessed about what that bastard of a husband used to do to her in her sleep that had him slipping out of the bed instead of slipping his hands into her sleep shorts.

Ghost was a monster, had been even before he died and came back wrong. But he wasn’t evil. He wouldn’t do that to her. He would never hurt a hair on her precious little head.

“You’re sniffing me again,” Lelia pointed out, and Ghost grunted as he leaned back, putting some space between them. He had been sniffing at her hair like a damn dog, without even realizing. Bloody hell, but that never stopped being embarrassing. “Do you need to go hunt?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly before standing up and fetching one of his workbooks from the shelf over the table, along with a pencil. Lelia smiled brightly, clearing away the makeup so there was space for him to practice. He sat back down and opened the book up to the last page they had worked on—one covering the letter N.

“Do you want a refresher?” His dove asked, but he shook his head. The letter was recognizable to him now, as were the ones that came before it, and he was eager to move on. He wanted to be able to read again, to write again. It would make communicating with Lelia so much easier.

“Alright then,” she said, turning to the next page for him. It just looked like two N’s smushed together. “This is the letter M, like in Mama. It makes a mmmuh sound when used in a word. Mmmuh. Mmmuh. It's written like this…”

Lelia loved Simon so much it hurt.

The thought never left her alone, not since she had realized it nearly a month ago. The ache in her cheeks from constantly smiling at the sight of him, the way her heart raced whenever he touched her, the not-nerves that squirmed in her belly when he let out that deep, rumbling growl—none of it would let her forget, not even for a second. Now that she was aware of how hopelessly in love she was, it was all she could think about.

She was sure she was doing a terrible job keeping her feelings a secret, but Simon never seemed to notice. Nothing changed between them, at least. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at that fact.

They were currently searching the only section of the village that they hadn’t been in before. Simon had insisted on sweeping the area before letting Lelia step foot in it, like a chivalrous knight of old from her favorite stories. She barely refrained from confessing then and there. Instead, she’d just told him to hurry back, her arms wrapped around him in a hug.

As ordered, he made it quick, returning only ten minutes after he’d gone. So of course, when an hour later a zombie stumbled out of a closet Lelia was looking for new clothes in, he blamed himself. Doubly so when she tripped and fell into a broken window trying to get away, the sharp glass splitting her skin. She could tell by the way Simon reacted, sprinting into the room at the sound of her scream, an inhuman snarl tearing from his throat as he tackled the zombie to the floor and ripped it to shreds.

It was the first time since the cabin that she’d seen him fight another undead, and though it was scary, it was concerningly attractive, too. There was something wrong with her, she was sure, because the sight of Simon covered in gore and viscera, chest heaving, teeth bared… it made her heart race and her body feel warm.

But just like every other time she feared she was being exceedingly obvious about how badly she wanted him, he was oblivious. She found herself almost wishing he would notice, or that she could find the bravery to tell him, because living like this was painful.

But not as painful as it would be if he found out the truth and left her because of it.

Lelia insisted on cleaning Simon the second they got back to the cottage, refusing to let him have a look at the cut on her arm until she’d brushed his teeth and helped him change into fresh clothes. He’d fought her on that, but there were very few things she was stubborn about, so when she decided to be, she went all in. Only when she’d made it clear that she’d bleed out before letting him treat her wound while covered in zombie guts, did he finally relent. Even then, the second she was done, he scooped her up and carried her into the living room before plopping her onto the couch. He briefly disappeared into the kitchen, only to come back with a bottle of cheap whiskey to sterilize her wound with.

He poured a little bit of alcohol onto a clean rag and set the bottle down on the coffee table, before beginning to disinfect the deep cut on her forearm with gentle ministrations. It stung, but Lelia didn’t so much as twitch, used to far worse. Instead, she stared at the whiskey curiously.

It smelled something awful, nothing like the top shelf liquor her father and husband used to drink. Lelia found herself itching to try it regardless—neither man had ever let her have anything more than half a glass of champagne. Hard liquor wasn’t ladylike, after all.

She’d had a terrible dream about Andrew last night. Just the memory of it—hands, pushing her head underwater as his cock forced its way inside her—made her shudder. Maybe it was that—that need for reassurance that she was no longer his pretty little art piece to destroy on a whim—that had her reaching for the bottle. Maybe it was her brush with death earlier that day that had her taking a generous sip. Whatever it was, she regretted it instantly, the whiskey polluting her mouth with a taste so foul she thought she might be sick. It was even worse going down, burning her throat and making her cough like someone dying of tuberculosis.

Simon laughed, that familiar, gravelly chuckle settling in her chest, warm and heavy. Or perhaps that was the whiskey. Either way, she wanted to hear it again, so when Simon reached for the bottle to take it away from her, she pouted and took another, big sip. She gagged in between her coughs this time, but it was worth it. It was so worth it, because suddenly, Simon’s cold fingers left her bandaged arm, plucking the bottle from her grasp and setting it back on the table, before he tugged her off of the couch and into his lap. He gathered both her wrists in one hand, pinning them between their chests as he took her chin in the other. He swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, wiping away a drop of alcohol.

“Naughhhhh’yyyy,” he groaned, low and playful, and Lelia sucked in a sharp breath, eyelashes fluttering. The warmth spread outwards from her chest, and a shuddering gasp escaped her, hot air ghosting over Simon’s fingers as she fell into his touch, irresistibly drawn to him. She could have sworn she saw his own cloudy, speckled eyes darken, and felt his loose grip on her wrists tighten. Wishful thinking, probably, but she was struggling to think rationally between the slight buzz of alcohol in her brain and the dizziness caused by his touch.

Lelia shifted a little bit, straddling his strong things. Her heart raced in her chest and part of her knew she wouldn’t be so bold if not for the whiskey—but maybe that was why she had drank it after all. She just wanted to be as close to Simon as possible. She’d tuck herself inside the hollow of his chest, if she could.

He could be inside you.

Lelia shivered at the thought. That nervous squirming sensation in her belly was back, but she knew by now it wasn’t fear—it was something she had never experienced before, at least not to the degree Simon’s touches caused. No, it was the feeling she got when she saw a fit actor on the telly take off his shirt. It was the feeling she got when her Year Eleven English teacher—a handsome, slightly older man that wore reading glasses and sweater vests—called her a good girl for helping her fellow students whenever they didn’t understand the material like she did. And shamefully, it was the feeling she sometimes got—very rarely—when Andrew or the soldiers took her. But this time, there was no terror or disgust attached to the moment. There was just Simon, and how he made her feel. Safe. Treasured.

Aroused.

Simon was silent and still beneath her. He’d let go of her wrists, and his hands drifted down her body to settle on her hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of her sleep shirt to rub circles into her flesh. She swallowed, and then leaned forward, until her lips pressed against the hard plastic of his mask, right over his forehead. He shuddered, grip tightening, and Lelia moved her lips lower, kissing the spot just beneath his left eye, then his right.

“Please,” she begged Simon, voice soft and needy. “Please take it off… I want to see you. I want to see all of you.”

Simon stared up at her with an unreadable look in his foggy eyes, taking deep, rattling breaths even though she knew he didn’t need to. But then he jerked his head to the side sharply, a denial.

“Sssscaa’eee… yyyyouuu,” he mumbled, looking away. Lelia’s heart broke, and she tried to gently turn his face back towards hers, but he wouldn’t budge. She sighed, resting her temple against his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck, eyes still trained on him.

“You could never scare me, Simon,” she whispered. “Never. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe.”

Don’t.

Ghost knew he should listen to the voice in his head—not Johnny’s, for once—and refuse. He’d traumatize his sweet little dove if she caught a glimpse of him. He could see it all too clearly—the second his gaunt, rotted face was revealed to her, she’d start crying and lock herself in her room.

But she’d asked, and he was pure shite at saying no to her.

Slowly, he reached up and began to lift his mask. Lelia’s eyes widened and she straightened before going perfectly still, watching with rapt attention. He swallowed thickly, fucking terrified that she would scream and run away. That this would ruin everything between them.

“Please,” she whispered again when he paused, hesitating. He gave a full-body twitch, but then yanked his mask the rest of the way off, like he was ripping off a plaster. She gasped, and Simon closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of the horrified expression that was bound to be on her face.

Several seconds of silence passed, but then suddenly, he felt Lelia’s plush lips on his forehead. His eyes snapped open as she began to pepper his face with lingering kisses, just like she had his mask. He could feel the softness of her skin, the feathery touch and addictive warmth.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed in between kisses. Simon could barely hear her, entranced with the delicious, searing heat of her mouth on his cheeks, his nose, even his broken jaw and the corner of his lipless mouth. “Thank you… thank you for trusting me… for caring for me… for saving me… Simon, I—”

She cut herself off, pulling back to look into his eyes. As his hands found her hips again, he watched her carefully, a part of him still waiting for rejection.

“I love you, Simon.”

I love you. I love you. I love you, Simon.

Lelia’s soft words rang in his ears. He let out a choked noise, his hands squeezing her so tightly she whimpered. He immediately let go of her, and she looked at him with a mortified expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, blinking rapidly as her eyes grew shiny. “Just— just forget I s-said anything, I shouldn’t h-have, I’m sorry—”

Simon didn’t have lips to kiss his dove with. He didn’t have the words to tell her how badly he wanted her. He couldn’t press her palm to his chest and show her how she made his heart race, the sensation just a phantom of memory.

But fuck, if he wouldn’t bloody well try.

He laid a hand over her heart, and recalled one of the first poems she read him—a favorite of hers, she’d said. Carefully, he spoke.

“Cccaaaarrryyyy thiiiiisss,” he patted his own chest with his other hand. “Innn hheeeerre.” The tears in her eyes spilled over, and finally, finally, she surged forward, her mouth crashing against. And for the first time since he’d died, Simon felt truly human.

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krsnaradhika · 3 days ago

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Hi, sweet one! ❤️🪷

Do you write headcanons with Krishna?

Hey, honey!

Yes I do have a few and it took me sometime to imagine him more than just the blurry dream he is in my eyes, on most days.

Here they go—

(i) He walks like a cat. Graceful, yes, but also very sneaky. You can never hear him come, also given the fact that the anklets he wears are pretty delicate and have minimal to no bells.

(ii) He wears a diadem on a daily basis after the court proceedings, since the crown still feels jarring from when he was Raghava.

(iii) He has a tiny mole near his jaw, and Bhama has a habit of kissing him there as greetings and farewells :3

(iv) He loves doing his wives’ shringar every day off :3

(v) Shri Jambavati is a wrestler (she’s taller than conventional women of the era, also slightly muscled) and they wrestle every other morning. Their children cheer for them in the arsenal :3

(vi) That being said, different love languages for nearly every member of the family.

(vii) Gives the best hugs. Wraps his arms around you like a blanket and you feel like there’s nothing that can ever bother you again. The sound of his heart beating can calm the most violent storms.

(viii) He’s actually really tall. Only shorter than Bhima and men of his physique, like Jarasandha. Dau is perhaps slightly shorter than him or the same height, but not taller. Kanha is not super buff, nor very skinny.

(ix) He writes, although very few people know that. All in stream of consciousness. He writes as a catharsis— letters to the Gopis and his Maiya and Baba in vraja that he never sends; stories of his travel and from his eyes; slice of life even. Because even his shadow would do them more harm than good, and he has made peace with it after many sleepless nights.

(x) Shri Rukmini sings to him on such sleepless nights. On days she’s too held by the ache of losing her natal home, he sings to her.

(xi) Coming to singing, he sounds like a low rumble of rain clouds when he does. Soft and windy, but also more emphasis on lower notes. His voice is, well, not sharp. It sounds as if smoothened deliberately to be gentle to his audience as well as himself, but also sung with his entire chest. He sings higher notes very well, but only when he’s feeling passionate.

(xii) This one is kinda personal, hehe. Since I’m not fond of strong scents no matter how flowery and pleasing to others, I headcanon he smells like petrichor/ camphor. Either of the two scents.

(xiii) He’s also pretty clingy with Mata Devaki (he’s clingy in general with everyone he’s too fond of, but restrains a lot until the other person reciprocates the same level of fervour, and madness).

(xiv) He named all of his daughters. A girl dad through and through :3

(xv) As a parent, he’s the chill one. Most likely to watch his children’s shenanigans with much dedication, and a pot of butter in his hands as his wives mete out disciplinary lessons to the children. Also most likely to be made to sit amongst them as the queens do.

That’s about it for now. Thanks for stopping by! <3

#krishnablr #gopiblr #krishna #kanha #hindublr #hinduism #mahabharata #mahabharat #harivamsha #headcanons

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 8 hours ago

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Too Good (John Walker)

Description: Y/N is the only one that’s nice to John.

Word Count: 665

Everyone was mean to John on the team, made comments towards him, called him a piece of trash except for one person. John bit back everytime and was a huge asshole in general but they all got along regardless. Y/N was the only one who didn’t call him names and be shitty to him since the beginning. It’s what made them best friends and he felt like he had his right hand man again except it was Y/N.

“What about your helmet?” Yelena asked him as they talked about the weapons they carried. “What you like it?” He asked, excited that someone was complimenting it. Except Yelena wasn’t and she didn’t think it looked cool, “Do you think it looks cool?” She asked and he shrugged. “Yeah I like it.” He lied and Y/N looked over at him, “I like it too.” He wasn’t sure exactly if that was the moment he fell in love with her or not. She never put him down and never planned too. Even when Century bent his shield, she didn’t make fun of him.

“Hey don’t worry, it still looks cool.” All her nice comments made him smile and feel like he wasn’t a piece of shit. Like right now, the others weren’t being super nice to him after he made a sarcastic comment. Y/N was in her room when she heard yelling, she sighed and got up from her bed to see what it was about when she opened her door and John was there, “Hey.” She said softly, seeing the anger in his eyes. It died down after he saw her, “Hey can we take a walk?” He asked her, she nodded and left her room.

The others watched them leave without a word, Bucky looking at Yelena. “Everything okay?” She asked as they walked around the city. “They’re so rude to me sometimes.” He said as they sat down on a bench. “I’m sorry.” She said as she looked over at him. He would never admit this out loud but he hated the way that made him feel.

“You’re the only one that’s not rude to me.” He points out and she shrugs, “I don’t think anyone deserves to be treated like shit.” She said and he looked at her, “Is that all?” He asked her. “What do you mean?” She asked and he got up. She got up as well and chased after him, “John.” She said and grabbed his arm, he turned towards her looking more pissed than before. “What?” He nearly growled. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?” She asked.

He shook his head, “I just thought that you were nice to me because you liked me.” Her eyes widened, “Oh well-“ He started walking away again. “John, I love you.” She yelled causing him to stop. “I just didn’t want you to think that was the only reason I was being nice.” She told him and he walked back to her.

“You really mean that?” He asked, softly. She nodded, “Yes.” He took a second to look at her before kissing her. Her hands immediately went to his face as she kissed back. She felt water dripping on her and pulled away, it was raining. “How romantic.” She joked and pulled him closer. His hair was sticking to his forehead, “I think it’s perfect.” He said and she nodded.

They were gone for a few hours before returning to the tower covered in rain and holding hands. The others started clapping and cheering, causing them to stop walking and look at them, “Told ya it would work.” Bucky said. They planned this. “Wait, you guys bullied him into coming to me so this would happen?” She asked, not exactly pleased with them. “Yes, that was the plan.” Ava said and before Y/N could scowl them John laughed and pulled her to his side. “I guess I should thank you guys.” He said. “You owe me $20.” “You bet on us?”

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #thunderbolts #new avengers #john walker #john walker imagine #john walker x reader #wyatt russell #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #florence pugh #yelena belova #red guardian #lewis pullman

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aphrosheir · 3 days ago

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>>> Red Hair, Red Wine, Red Handed Pt. 2 <<<

[A/N: Part 2 of this madness. I hope y'all are still following the plot??? Uhm... okay, bye!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

"Barb," Ava calls out from the doorframe of the kindergarten teacher's room like a perp. "Barbara."

"Ava, what are you doing?" Barbara lets out a long suffering sigh. The veteran teacher has been in Abbott for years, and she is one hairfall away from losing it. "If you need to talk to me, be a proper woman and sit."

"But Barbara, this is an important mission. High stakes! Classified."

"Lord, you know that I am not your greatest soldier."

"Give me strength."

"Ava. Sit down."

And just like that, Ava is sitting on—who's chair is this? Lacey Hope, the tag reads—because everyone listens when Barbara Howard tells them to sit down.

"You know, Barbara scares me. Just a little bit."

"Now, what is it that you so desperately needed me on a Friday afternoon after the kids have all gone and rested, mere days before the birth of our Lord and saviour?"

"(Y/N) and Melissa."

"No."

"But they're perfect for each other, Barb!"

"I know!"

"So, you're in?"

"I—what even is your plan?"

Ava wiggles her eyebrows, "I knew you'd come around!"

"I didn't say—"

"So, Christmas romance. What's the equivalent of locking two people together in a room until they confess their feelings?"

Barbara’s pointed look was lethal, but Ava—like all great heroes—persevered.

"Mistletoe. Barb, it's literally the most classic, most romantic, most lovey-dovey shit ever—Barbara, you cannot say no to this."

"It is not right to meddle with our friends' lives like this."

"Look, Barbara. I am not getting enough sleep because (Y/N) won't stop rambling about how Melissa's hair looks like a soft fire or how she would combust if she didn't kiss her yet. Tell me, are you not tired of their abuse on us?"

"Abuse?" Barbara's tone was a double deadpan at this point, listening to the antics of her boss—technically—and wondering how her life had let to this.

"I have lived my life by the word of the Lord, I do not know how I've come to this."

"Yes, abuse! Have you seen the bags under my eyes, Barb? I know, because I can see yours too."

Barbara gasped, covering her perfect face with her hands, and scandalised that Ava would say such a thing. "How dare you?"

"But... It is quite true. Melissa has been pestering me about the perfect gift for (Y/N) for how many nights now," she muttered.

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something about patience being a virtue.

"But—I am not doing this."

"You know," Ava went on, undeterred, "if the Virgin Mary had waited as long as those two have, Jesus would’ve been born in July."

"Ava!"

"I'm just saying."

A long silence settled between them. Barbara folded her arms. Ava leaned back in Lacey Hope's chair like it was a recliner at a stakeout. Finally, with a tired sigh that sounded like the last gasp of her restraint, Barbara spoke:

"Fine. But if we’re going to meddle, we’re doing it with grace, decorum, and discretion."

Ava grinned, already pulling out her phone. "So… Operation Kiss-mas is a go?"

Barbara closed her eyes. "Lord, forgive me for I am about to sin in the name of love."

"I cannot believe that I am doing this."

"Oh, you betta' believe it, sister!"

"Wow, (Y/N)! Your house is gorgeous. This looks straight out of my 'Future Home if I Got Out of Bankruptcy' Pinterest Board." Janine exclaims excitedly as (Y/N) greeted them, now donning an oddly familiar "Silent Night, Violent Night" sweater over her dress.

"Ha!" Ava belly laughs at Janine's quip.

The crew stares at the cameras.

"I love how you kids still have that classic sense of humour. Keep it up, Janine, you might be able to make my good list next year."

"It wasn't... It wasn't a joke—"

"Now, are you all ready for a night of love?" Ava enthusiastically exclaimed, arms outstretched.

"—for our darling boy, Jesus Christ! Yes, that is right, praise His name, Hallelujah." Barbara cut in, as graceful as ever.

The crew cheered with a few stray "Merry Christmases" and a very enthusiastic "Happy Holidays" from Jacob filling the house.

"Ava, remember. Grace, decorum, and discretion."

Janine thanked the Lord that everyone agreed to come at the same time—save for Melissa, seeing as how the redhead was sitting at the couch like a grumpy little gnome as she stared at her phone like it killed her family.

If the time change was or wasn't caused by Ava 'convincing' everyone to make their lives easier and totally not to get Melissa and (Y/N) alone for that slowburn action, only the Lord knows.

"Oh, hi, Melissa!" Janine gave her a small wave. "How's the food?"

The deathly glare that Melissa sent her way was enough of an answer for her and—the rest of the crew—to maybe avoid Melissa until she gets a few more glasses of beer into her system.

"I mean..." Janine chuckled nervously, eyes darting to the side. "Melissa's usually grrr and rawr! I know that. We all know that. But, now it's like RAHHHH!"

"And (Y/N) hasn't even complimented my Slyther-claw sweaters with our initials! I just—I hope they're alright. Like, you know... I want to see the New Year, guys."

"Merry Christmas, y'all! Now, go upstairs and pick out your own rooms, especially if you are planning to stay. Find a room buddy and bunker up. After that, go wild! I'm lookin' at you, Jacob, my Mistle-bro!"

"Yeah, (Y/N) and I are tight. We're mistle-bros in this ho-ho-ho!"

"Jacob? Jacob, where are you?! The ladder is shaking!"

"Oh no, I'm coming, Janine!"

"Hey, (Y/N). Where can we put our food?"

"Right," (Y/N)'s uncharacteristic dull eyes lit up. "Y'all can put it somewhere on the dining table. I cannot wait to see what you've cooked up, Mr. Eddie-ble!"

"Please do not call me that."

But it was too late as Jacob gave a high-five to (Y/N).

Janine, on the other hand, had already led the group to the kitchen, Gregory being stuck beside a rambling Jacob.

"She’s loud. Social. Talks to everyone. But no one’s been here until now. That’s... something."

Jacob chimed in from Gregory's side, eyes frantically shooting from one place to another, "You know, this house gives strong ‘refined vintage with a twist of eccentric aunt’ energy. All this woodwork? Totally Craftsman. Those gold drawer handles? French provincial. And these trinkets? A curated chaos—it's like an antique shop got organized by colour theory!"

Gregory shoots the camera a 'please kill me' look.

"So, we just take any room here?" Janine asked, exploring the quaint yet surprisingly large house.

It housed 5 rooms upstairs and an attic turned library on the third floor. The halls seemed to stretch far and wide for Janine, who was leading the group, ever the over-excited camp counsellor.

"Yeah! My room is the farthest to the right. Nope, not that right, my right! Nope, still the wrong way—Janine, my right and your right are the same!"

Just then, Gregory put a hand on top of Janine's shoulders gently and quietly, turning her to the correct direction.

"Oh—uh, that one. Right. Thank you, (Y/N)!" She waved down to the woman downstairs before gingerly turning to her boyfriend. "And, thank you, Gregory."

"Move it along, lovebirds! I am trying to get my holiday glee awn," Mr. Johnson yelled, hauling his bag over his shoulder, pushing past the youngins in front of him.

"So..." Ava started, walking up beside Barbara who was taking in the kitchen; fluffing up a wreath, wiping a stray dust particle off the table, moving around a red-lipstick stain on a mug that ironically states (Y/N)'s mug—anything to keep Ava from talking to her. But alas... "Operation Jingle Smash is a go?"

"I thought it was Operation Season of Love? You know what, I still do not give a hoot about the name. Ava, what exactly is your plan now?"

"Well, for Operation Ho Ho Homoerotic Tension—" Barbara glares. "No? Okay. But, I suggest we just place a mistletoe somewhere they might frequent and lead them there. Easy peasy, pussy squeezy, right?"

"I—you are testing me right now."

Ava winks, "And you are passing, baby."

"But, well. That is quite easy. I suggest we start here, at the kitchen. We could call Melissa and (Y/N) to explain the dishes they've made? Now, wouldn't that be a nice bonding moment for them, a nice build up before they—you know."

"Kiss, Barbara? You can say kiss, can't you," Ava deadpans. "But, honestly, Barb. I don't think that's gonna work."

"Oh, come on. It'll be nice, Ava. Trust me." Barbara smiles, "Well look at me scheming all up on here, for Operation Proper Pairing."

"Still needs work."

"(Y/N)! Melissa!" Barbara calls out to the two women. (Y/N) turning her head from the couch as Melissa walks out of the right wing of the second floor, looking annoyed as she was in the middle of curling her hair.

"What'd'ya need, Barb," Melissa asks, clearly annoyed at the interruption of her beauty routine.

"Well, I was just wondering—" she clasped her hands together, in the usual Barbara Howard manner, "If our lovely cooks could explain the menu for tonight, seeing as how hard the two of you have worked on these—"

"Yeah, no. Pass, Barbs."

(Y/N) looked at Barbara, serious and unbreaking. "Barb. As much as I wish I could, but... I don't know if I can ever tell my trauma of the mashed potatoes without violently crying and throwing up. I'm sorry, Barb."

"I—"

"Told you, it wouldn't work."

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Give me your hand."

"What?"

Ava shot her a look. "Just trust me."

And just as Barbara's perfectly manicured nails hesitantly landed on top of Ava's, the woman grasped it so tight, Barbara couldn't move even as she saw that the trajectory of her hand was about to land on top of her precious sweet potato pie. "Ava!"

"Help, Barbara's hand is stuck on her hard and sticky sweet potato pie!"

"AVA!"

"How dare she call my sweet potato pie hard and sticky?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Stop being dramatic, Barb. Whatever youse plannin', I ain't fallin' for it." Melissa retorted, retreating up to her bedroom.

"I told you, it would not work. What a waste of a good p—Ava. Ava. I can't get my hand out, Ava."

"Was I wrong though?" Ava preached. "It took us a whole hour to wash that sweet potato pie off her hands."

"My nails smell of it."

"Could've been worse. It could've been smelling like Jacob's vegan nachos that looks like it came out of Santa's chimney. Seriously, how and why would you make nachos vegan?"

"So, 3 more hours to go and still no kiss." Ava sighs, lathering Barbara's hands in (Y/N)'s almost empty handsoap that she could've sworn she just replaced before they had arrived.

"It's... Alright. It was our first attempt, is all. Warm-up, correct?"

"Of course."

As the afternoon progressed, neat little garlands hung from (Y/N)'s high wooden ceilings, lights twinkling and up to safety code—according to O'shon. Now was the time for them to litter the whole house with mistletoes.

The couch where Melissa would frequent, watching the game that currently played on the TV. Beneath the tall pine tree that brought the whole room to life. Above the fireplace where pictures of (Y/N) in her years in Abbott had been kept.

Just a couple.

"Hey, did you move the stockings here?" Gregory asked, the askew decorations making his brain tick.

"No, but did you take off the star? I know it looks old but it's an important part of Christmas." Janine's voice grew in pitch, her once perfect makeup now had sweat tracks running through her forehead.

"I didn't," he said flatly.

Just then, Jacob came running in, "Oh my God, you guys. The little elf garlands I made of us? Hung it near the TV? Completely destroyed. Donezo. Gone. My elf even lost its head..."

Gregory let out a shrug, "Well... That one wasn't too bad."

"I don't know what's happening and I'm scared. What if it's Krampus, getting back at us for all the times we've been bad this year? Oh no, I knew that almond milk was bad but I kept still bought them. I love the film it develops, I'm sorry!"

"Okay, let's not jump into... Improbable conclusions, alright?"

"I don't want to live in a basket!" Jacob shrieks.

Gregory slaps him across the face, "You're not!"

"Gregory!" Janine exclaims.

"I am so sorry, Jacob. I don't know what came over me."

"No, it's fine. You're right. I've been a good boy. I ate my veggies. I slept before my bed time," Jacob stated with conviction.

"That's not..."

"Whatever happened here," Janine gestured to their ruined decorations, "We have to figure out who did it and put an end to—"

Thud.

"Oh no, Krampus is here to take me!"

"Hey, what is going on here?"

"—I told you, put the ladder to the left! Ava, you are the principal, but I am well sure that my kindergarteners would be able to take my instructions better than you because they actually know where their left and right is!"

"Damn, Barb. I thought you were all about grace, decorum, and discretion?" Ava mutters as she helps the woman stand.

"This is grace," Barbara gestures to herself. Her hair is sticking out in a bunch of directions, beige blouse untucked and the matching brown pants wrinkled.

Janine steps forward, staring at the carnage of tinsel and baubles. "What have you been doing in here?"

"We were smuggling mistletoes to gift Santa's elves for being good helpers this year," Barbara answers incredulously. "What does it look like to you, Janine?"

Jacob leans towards Gregory, "Uhm... I'm still scared. But I think it's not of Krampus anymore."

"Ava, I have been teaching for well over 20 years. I am not about to lose my sanity over two over-grown, emotionally impaired babies who thinks they'll explode if they show an ounce of emotion and a God-forsaken mistletoe!"

The growl she let out at the last part sent a shockwave through the hallway, making the teachers take a very mindful step back.

"I hope Gerald doesn't arrive any time soon. He might kill me for breaking his wife."

"So..." Ava takes a hesitant step forward, quickly snatching the poor mistletoe from Barbara's hand as if she's taking a bone from a rabid dog. "I say, let's stop this and let them be, maybe?"

"No."

Janine could swear that she saw smoke curl from her nostrils and a dangerous red flare pass her eye.

"We're going to finish Operation All I Want for Christmas is for These Idiots to Kiss even if it kills us."

"Us?"

"Yes, us. Unless you want what happened to your little elf counterpart to happen to you too, Jacob."

"For years, I have watched Melissa Schemmenti chase after men who couldn’t tell her love from drywall—getting her heart trampled on like church flyers at a state fair. But not this time. This time, she has a devoted woman—determined, loving, borderline feral—and she’s pushing her away!"

"I have not meddled once. Not once. But this time, Schemmenti? I am onto your mess. I am in your mess. I am practically neck-deep in your emotional debris."

As Jacob had hung up his elf once again—the head held up by glue and prayers—he turned to a calmer Barbara, "I did notice them avoiding each other."

"Don't get me started when they practically burn a hole through the other's head when staring at then when they know the other wasn't looking," Gregory said, crossing his arms.

"Honestly," Janine added, frowning, "I haven't seen them talk to each other this whole day..."

"Children—when you have known Melissa Schemmenti for as long as I have, you'd know that that woman is practically a flammable material."

Janine nodded, "And (Y/N) is like a matchstick to her. She eats confrontation for breakfast."

"I wonder what happened to them. Before Melissa arrived, (Y/N) and I were just talking about her wanting to impress Mel."

"So... Melissa and I kind of got into a fight earlier."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #barbara howard #janine teagues #gregory eddie #mr. johnson #wlw #fanfiction #gay

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itzsana-kiddingmenow · 3 days ago

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sunny side up:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1k

𝙖/𝙣: happy very late birthday to @kpopfan4ever-lol i hope this fic was to your expectations hah...

𝙩/𝙬: softer tickles, a bit of angst like the teeniest bit

𝒍𝒆𝒆: felix

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v–143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry

@channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr @reginald-stay09 @lunalattae @just-hyunlix-things @skzrosey @kijaswrldd @shinywombatcrusade

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

The sunshine had dimmed. Almost entirely. There wasn't any contagious laughter that always filled the room when he was present, or the typical playful energy that danced in his eyes. His shoulders were hunched today, his smile was gone, and his usual gleam had faded, replaced by a subdued melancholy that seemed to hang over him like a thick mist.

Telltale signs that Felix was feeling down.

As soon as Chan walked into the room, he saw the change. Felix sat on the couch with a distant expression on his face as he gazed out the window. He was not the cheerful, happy person he usually was. The sight broke Chan's heart, and he instinctively walked to his member and knelt down in front of him.

"Hey, Lixie..." Chan cupped the younger's face and tilted it to meet his eyes. "You feeling okay?"

Chan frowned at the type of response. Unless he was truly trying to hide something, Felix was never one to keep his emotions to himself. Chan wanted to do everything in his power to help him feel better because he could tell he wasn't feeling well, at all.

"Lix," He whispered, attempting to entice him out with a little more playfulness this time. "You're being too quiet and too serious. What's going on?"

Felix simply shrugged while gazing at the floor. "Channie hyung, it's nothing. I don't feel happy today." He pouted and looked down.

After biting his lip for a moment, Chan's eyes glistened with a thought. His voice lowered to a playful tone as he leaned closer. "Well, there's one way to cheer you up~"

Felix suddenly averted his eyes, trying to look anywhere other than Chan's face. "O-Oh, there's that."

"Do you want to be tickled, Lixie?" Chan asked downright, grinning as Felix hid his face in his hands, absolutely flustered beyond measure.

"Yehes..." The sincerity in Felix's voice caused Chan to soften, his typically playful attitude changing into something more sensitive. He tapped gently on Felix's wrists without uttering another word.

Lix immediately lifted his arms above his head, his fingers splayed open as if to say, Here I am, ready to be tickled.

Chan smiled at the gesture. He could tell Felix was still trying to hide his discomfort, but the way he raised his arms said it all: even though he hadn't fully acknowledged it, he wanted this.

For a brief moment, Chan's fingers teased Felix by hovering slightly above his sides. "You really want this?" Chan asked, voice barely a whisper as he watched Felix’s chest rise and fall with anticipation.

"Yes," Lixie breathed out, a little desperate now, his body starting to squirm. "Please, Chan. Just…just do it."

Channie's fingers slid and skated over Felix's sides, going so gently that the younger wouldn't have felt it if it weren't for the ticklish sensation it brought.

"Ohoh my gohohhohosh!! PLEHEASE nohohot soho slow..!" Lix begged.

Chan, however, was going at his own pace, enjoying each small response. He applied a little more pressure this time and moved his fingers in gentle, circular motions. Felix's body trembled, and his laugh came out in cute little squeals. In an attempt to keep it together, he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. But it was so, so ticklish.

"CHAHAHAN pleheheheheaseee!!" Felix was now laughing uncontrollably, and his voice was squeaky and strained. "Nohohohohho!!" His abs twitched as his body twisted beneath Chan's hands, causing his voice to break into breathless gasps.

However, Lixie kept his arms raised. Even though his legs kicked lightly and his chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, he never let his hands drop.

Chan’s fingers continued to dance over his sides, moving up towards Felix’s ribs again, then slowly, oh so gently, skimming under his arms. Felix’s whole body stiffened, his eyes widening.

"NO! Plehehease not theehehehhere!! Hyuhung!!" Lix squealed as Chan's nails gently danced over the skin. "I cahahahan't keep them up!" The younger whined as Chan refused to move, and Felix could feel his arms trembling with effort.

"Awhh, so cute! Can't hold them up, huh?" Chan teased. His baby's laughter was music to his ears, and he wasn’t going to stop until Felix was fully back to his old self.

Lixie couldn't hold back anymore. His body was shaking uncontrollably, his legs kicking out, but he still didn’t lower his arms. His giggles were now full belly laughs, so uncontrollable and sweet that they filled the room.

"PLEHEHEASE!! Chahahannie hyunggg!"

"What? You want me to keep going, huh? That's why you won't put your arms down?" Chan laughed, one hand scrunching up at Felix's side while the other dragged fingertips up and down the boy's sides.

However, the more Lix pleaded, the more Chan's fingers discovered all those sensitive spots, which caused Felix to laugh until his stomach ached. The younger felt the weight on his chest gradually lessen with each laugh, and he was unable to avoid the gentlest touches as Chan's fingers danced and skittered along his skin.

In order to catch his breath and watch Felix's adorable squirming, Chan's fingers briefly slowed down. Chan said in a loving whisper, "You're so cute when you laugh like that."

Felix looked up at Chan with wide, sparkling eyes, his chest heaving from the laughter that was still there. "Chahahannnn...I'll die if you keeheheep going!" His face flushed from the laughter as Chan picked up speed again, he squeaked and finally lowered his arms before collapsing back against the couch, gripping at Chan's arms.

"Better?" Chan asked, his voice warm, with just a touch of emotion enclosed in the simple question. He could see it now: Felix's soft eyes were shining with joy that had been absent a while ago. The glittering playfulness in those eyes was telling—Felix was Felix now, and his usual vibrant self made Chan's heart swell.

Felix sighed contentedly for a moment, closing his eyelids; it was a deep breath he took, allowing the warmth of the room and, more importantly to him, that of Chan beside him to overpower him. His fingers hovered in the air, maybe still registering a ghost of the ticklish feeling that had traveled through his skin a moment ago, aftershocks of laughter still sending little tingles down his spine. Slightly shifting his weight and noticing the soft feel of the couch, he took a slow exhalation before opening his eyes to meet Chan's stare again.

"Yeah…" Felix breathed, more satisfied than he had been moments ago, more relieved. "Much better." And he smiled. Wide and bright. Like the sun.

It had been quite the smile, a real one, perhaps the first of the day, creating curves on his lips that playfully matched the twinkle in his eyes. The cheeky energy from earlier returned but with baby-soft gentleness, almost shy, much like a kitten waking up after an afternoon snooze.

Felix’s smile lingered, and he shifted slightly closer to Chan, his head resting lightly on Chan’s shoulder. "Thank you," He murmured, his voice small and sincere, just for Chan’s ears. It was more than a thank you for the tickling. It was for everything—for seeing him, for caring for him, for knowing when he needed a little lightness to break through the heaviness.

Lixie closed his eyes again, a soft smile still tugging at his lips. He was home, in every sense of the word. And for the first time in a while, he felt completely at peace.

#kpop tickle #midzywannabeitzy #stray kids #skz tickle #skz #ler chan #lee! felix

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madridfangirl · 2 days ago

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Tit for Tat

(Jude Bellingham blurb)

It was evening in Madrid & morning in San Francisco when Jude's phone pinged.

'Hey.'

It was his girlfriend. One of his few silver linings in this otherwise shitty year. Jude smiled & picked up the phone immediately.

'Heyyy wassup.'

'You tell me. Wassup with you?'

'Not much. Had an okay training. Not looking forward to this weekend's game. Gonna be shite, all our backline is out.'

'Hmmm.'

'But only a few games to go. Then hopefully we rebuild. That's what we are telling ourselves.

'Hmmm.'

'To lift the spirits you know. And to keep going.'

'Your spirits seem to be fine.'

Jude thought it was a compliment. In their 1.5 years together, he had learnt to read sarcasm in her voice but was still catching up on text.

'Yeah well, someone needs to keep it cheerful in the dressing room.'

He smiled to himself while typing back. But when she didn't respond for 30 seconds, that was his first clue that something was off.

'Not just in the dressing room.'

His mind started whirring at supersonic pace. What was this about? He went to Twitter & searched his name. Most hits were about the game from a day before. He had actually done decently well in the match. Not great but not bad either.

When nothing came up, he had to ask.

'Umm what?'

She sent him links to two post match photos. With fans. Girls.

And Jude stiffened. But tried to downplay it. Coz there was nothing there, not really.

'What about them?'

'You tell me.'

'Just normal pics with fans.'

'Are they? Normal?'

'Yes.'

'The face you're making in the second one? BOTH her arms around you? Normal?'

Jude tried calling her but she disconnected at first ring. He sighed & went back to typing.

'She was just really excited to be there. Die hard long term fan. Like you. She was just giddy with excitement so we took a goofy photo. That's all.'

He knew she wasn't the kind to get jealous easily. She actually gave him a fairly long rope and understood some aspects that came with his job. Something must have really ticked her off about these ones.

The silence from her was making him jittery. He looked at the second photo again & something clicked in his head.

'It's the cheeks, isn't it?'

'What do you think?'

Yeah it was the cheek touching. Clear as day now.

He tried video-calling this time. Same result. Disconnected.

'Pls dove, lemme see you. Let's talk.'

Few seconds later, she called back. Audio call. That was all he was gonna get.

'Heyyy. So listen - like I said it all happened in a blur and I didn't realise that...'

'...that she's wrapped around you? And you're humouring it?'

Jude took a deep breath. Her tone was calm, too calm for his liking.

'Babyy....'

'Don't baby me.'

'I don't know what else to say really. Like...I hear you and I'd try to be more mindful but honestly...in that moment it was just normal. Harmless. Like you needed to be there to feel it.'

'The first one was harmless too?'

Something in her tone threw him off. It looked perfectly harmless. The photo. Then how could she possibly know?

'What do you mean?'

'Oh stop playing dumb. You know what I mean. Did she try something?'

Jude scratched his head. Literally. Because how the hell could she possibly know? Maybe female intuition was really a thing.

'Ermm...'

'What...did she do? Out with it.'

Jude felt like a schoolkid being reprimanded in the principal's office.

'Kinda...pressed her...herself...into me...a bit....but I pulled away soon.'

Ananya was quiet. She just felt that vibe from her instantly. Like many others who didn't shy away from trying with Jude. Perfectly ok to be a one night thing or a side squeeze for him. Shooting their shot even when they knew he was taken. The absolute lack of self-respect pissed her off. Sadly, there were too many to count. So much, that she was losing her faith in women in general.

'Bab.....dove, say something pls.'

She didn't. Coz she was mad.

'The first one was not my fault. I swear. Like I pulled away. I swear.'

She believed him on this. Could sense it from his tone. But these photos on her feed is what she woke up to and that made her cranky. Mostly at others but a little bit at him too. For being so delectable that everyone just wanted a piece.

The second photo continued to irk her though. For fuck's sake, her & Jude had an exact photo like this. Cheeks squishing & all. And she knew that Jude knew he was flirting with the line there. He knew it, but still made that fucking face, humouring that stranger.

Naah, he wasn't getting away with that.

'Hello hello. Earth to dove - you're freaking me out & you know it.'

'Maybe this could be a life lesson.'

Her tone changed, even calmer now. Jude sat up on the couch, his video game on pause, his snack forgotten.

'Like how?'

'Like every action has an equal & opposite reaction.'

Ok, this was NOT good.

'What are you plotting?'

'Plotting? Ooh such a harsh word. I was just wondering, since you find that photo soooo normal, it's only fair if I get one too right? With another man?'

Pin Drop silence. Heavy breathing. Just like she expected.

What a joy it was to give him a taste of his own medicine. So much fun. So she doubled down.

'Remember the guy who sits next to me in economics, the one who came to drop by the notes to my apartment when you were here? He's quite friendly. Maybe I'll go thank him today with a hug like that. And capture the harmless moment.'

Still silence. On second thoughts, she should have taken the video call. To see his face right now would be precious.

'Fine, you made your point. Let's drop it. Now.'

His tone turned deep. Authoritative. And that pissed her off even more. He didn't fucking have a leg to stand on right now & he had the balls to dictate things to her? To hell with that.

'Oh you'll know when I have made my point. You'll SEE it.'

'ANANYA - Be reasonable.'

'Naah that's boring.'

Jude shut his eyes & exhaled loudly, nostrils flaring, composing himself.

She was so fucking far, on a fucking different continent. If she were close by, he had multiple ways to resolve an argument like this, to shut her up creatively and make her forget everything else other than his name. He was itching to grab her right now but sadly, he couldn't.

He knew confrontation won't work, it would push her to do something STUPID. So he had to try a different tactic.

Tool 1: logic.

'I didn't go & do it myself. It happened to me.'

'Things can happen to me too. Many things. I just don't let them. By drawing a line. It's quite basic, not rocket science.'

And just like that, his logic went out the window.

On to tool 2: emotional blackmail.

'Dove, you know I'm trying. You know I can be stupid at times when I don't mean it. You know I love you.'

Now that would have worked in other situations. But she was on guard today. Plus, the impact of it would be magnified with a classic Jude hug, him clinging to her, nuzzling his face into her neck. But distance didn't allow that & it made her not fold.

'It's fun to be the stupid one at times. Wanna see what it feels like.'

Last tool in his arsenal: guilt.

'So you'll hurt me knowingly, yeah? That's what you wanna do? Hurt your baby?'

'Oh...you little.....I HATE YOU.'

This was the window he needed. The chink in the armor he was waiting for.

'And I love you.'

'You bloody ass. I know what you're doing. Don't think you'll win like this.'

'Win? How could I possibly win when you're so far away? When I haven't held you in 2 months? Fuck that win.'

'Fuck YOU.'

'Pls do. I'm dying out here.'

'JUDE BELLINGHAM....'

'Okay okay I'm sorry. How about this? You wanna get back at me? Fine won't stop you. But do it when you're here in 3 weeks for your field trip. When I'm around, when I can come get you if needed. Just....give me that.'

'I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. Don't need my prince charming to come save me.'

'I know. But just for my peace of mind? Am sure you can find someone here.'

She was tempted to say 'what if that's someone from the club?' but she held back. Jude had no sense of humour when it came to her & she knew it won't go down well. It was a step too far. She didn't wanna hurt him that much. Just a tad bit.

For Jude, it was a calculated bet. It bought him time. And even if the thought was still fresh in her head when she came to Madrid, he'd fuck it right out of her senses. All he needed was to get his hands on her once.

'Fine.'

'You're the best you know.'

'I do know.'

'That's my girl.'

'The jury is still out on that.'

'The jury has already announced my punishment. Can we put this behind us now? Wanna see you.'

'Getting late for class.'

'I'll wait.'

'Class is for 4 hours back to back.'

'That's fine.'

'You have training in the morning.'

'Dove I won't be able to sleep till I see you properly. So call me when you're back, I'll be up. Need this.'

'...Ok.'

'I'm waiting.'

'Ok.'

'Bye love.'

'Bye Jude.'

......................................................

Don't ask me why I wrote this? Even I don't know. Just happened 🤷‍♀️

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham smut #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude bellingham angst #jude fic

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elliespotion · 13 hours ago

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Guitarist!Ellie Headcanons!

can NOT stop thinking about her oh my lord.

guitarist!ellie who when you first joined the band could barely play during your first rehearsal because she was so distracted by the way you moved around the pretend stage (her garage)

guitarist!ellie who will playfully walk around you, guitar hung slung over her shoulder while you’re performing for the first time.

oh and do the fans love you both and your interactions on stage? they LIVE for it. you can’t go a day without Dina sending you edits of you and Ellie on stage.

guitarist!ellie who will literally save all of these edits in a folder on her private tiktok (because why would she do it on her public one? she’s never on there)

guitarist!ellie who comforted you the first time you had an anxiety attack because you felt like you messed up a performance because your mic kept dying. she obviously invited you over to her house to watch a movie. (you ended up falling asleep on her but neither of you talked about it for weeks.)

singer!you who realizes you maybe (definitely) have a crush on her because who wouldn’t?

guitarist!ellie who practically melts when you sing a love song and playfully look into her eyes while singing. she is down BAD for you.

singer!you who really doesn’t wanna do another photoshoot for the third time this week.

guitarist!ellie who decides to cheer you up she would just squish your cheeks together which definitely required Dina taking a picture of your pouty face.

DINA!!!!! who decides it’s a great idea to post the picture on the bands instagram page with Ellie cropped out.

but guess what’s not cropped out?

Ellies tattooed arm.

Which we both know Dina did on purpose since you guys have been looking at each other with nothing but puppy dog eyes but would either of you tell each other how you feel-

guitarist!ellie who sees the instagram picture blow up. she’s kicking her feet and giggling.

guitarist!ellie who definitely asks you out as soon as she sees you next (literally knocks on your door at 3 am because she can’t sleep because she literally can’t stop thinking about you two together.)

singer!you who obviously says yes because HELLO? the girl you have been crushing on for a year literally drove to your house at 3 am to confess her feelings about you???

which leads to you two making out and doing other things for a while so you are definitely late to band practice (by three hours…) because you didn’t go to sleep until 7 am.

i am just so obsessed with band ellie at this point it’s probably toxic!

#ellie williams #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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sillygoofyqueer · 2 days ago

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*dragging myself through the pit of exhaustion* Must...post.....mad scientist au...... - all seriousness though, I didn't POST yesterday?!!??! WHY?!?!? Because...BECAUSE!!!....I have no excuse😔😔 I'm just a little they/them who gets overwhelmed by all of the ideas in their head. Like, I was going to write a post yesterday but I was like "where do I even begin?" and screamed n such. Anyway. SHUT UP, FOUR. Okay okay so, Wei Ying is in the Burial Mounds, and he feels as though he has to earn the right to leave. He has so much blood on his hands, he has caused so much harm even if it was unknowingly, he has done so much wrong and will never be able to make up for it. He deserves everything that he is going through, and would let himself rot away in the Burial Mounds if it weren't for the fact that he knows from the whispers of the spirits, of the trees, that there is a war. He may be a monster, an abomination of the blood and guts and resentful energy that paved his path into Hell, but he is still useful. He is smart. He created the beginnings of an entirely new cultivation path at eleven years old, why can't he do it again at seventeen? He's got the knowledge, he has some of his notes, and he's got more than enough materials at his disposal. So, his experimenting begins.

Instead of taking a guilty but "this is the way" approach to resentful energy and the death it causes, Wei Ying seeks to change it. He seeks to have the chance to help every spirit that helps him, in a way that he could not achieve with living humans - mainly because they didn't survive long enough for him to help them. With spirits, he can simultaneously help them let out those wild, confusing feelings, while they help him get revenge on his enemies and be useful. He can learn about the individual spirit no matter what little that is, and give them a way out. Lay them to a peaceful rest after they have assisted him. It still feels exploitative to him, but then the Burial Mounds begins to whisper about how the spirits view him - he is their God, sent from the heavens to help the spirits forgotten by the rest of the world. Spirits that are too far gone to be nothing but overwhelming emotions rush to him and are given the sweet release that death was supposed to provide them.

Wei Ying also refines his skills with the dizi, forcing himself to work through the pain of moving his fingers, a pain that is getting worse with every day he is in the Burial Mounds. He learns how to use his melodies to influence spirits to do anything he wants, calming them out of a screaming rampage through the grounds and sometimes working them into (experimentation comes first, even if he gets attacked in the process). The Burial Mounds is doing Its own creepy version of cheering on Its son, feeling simultaneously proud and in awe of what he is doing right in front of It. How has this boy, this little baby teenager, fallen from the skies and almost died in Its lands, only to force his way back into life with Its help and then immediately begins offering a form of salvation to all of the forgotten, uncared for spirits in the Jianghu.

Now, the crows. "What is their role in this AU?" Well, at first, they're just chilling around, watching Wei Ying stumble around desperately every day, scrabbling for...indescript food in order to survive (yes, it is corpses. Bone marrow, usually. It's not like there's any other food sources aside from the crows, n he can't catch them in his state). They watch as he digs around in these corpses for the bones and then delightedly pick at whatever is left over when the human stumbles off again. Listen, if you've been around for a while, you know that I've learned my fair share about crows....so I know that crows are quite intelligent! They have the minds of toddlers, n they can recognise people - AND hold grudges. That doesn't really add anything to the plot but I just thought it was cool. Anyway, Wei Ying starts offering the food as he's eating it, and they all start eating together so it's pretty chill!

The crows have to return the favour of the chill eating sessions and start bringing Wei Ying cool shit that they find outside of the Burial Mounds, often shiny shit but occasionally there's shit from cultivators and Wei Ying is sometimes whipping similar stuff out, so they bring that as well. The crows like Wei Ying, Wei Ying likes the crows. Simples! Of course, it doesn't take long for the teenager to realise that the crows are brimming with yin energy, and are drawn to his melodies just as much as resentful spirits are, and he does take advantage of this, giving them more food in return for their efforts. As Wei Ying grows more powerful, he feels like it would be necessary to reach out to the outside world, so he starts experimenting with (dead) crows to basically use them as flying cameras to see what's going on outside.

It is Not Good. There most certainly IS a war, and Wen Ruohan's forces far outweigh that of the three major sects & co. "Three?" I hear you saying - YEP. In THIS AU, the Jin side with the Wen. "WHY??" Because Jin Guangshan knows that the Wen have notes of demonic cultivation from the literal genius creator of it, and he (mistakenly) believes that the Wen can and will use them in the war. It's a no brainer for him; they will fall if they do not side with the Wen. Also he sucks and I HATE him and he's power hungry, so he's hoping that he gets information about demonic cultivation if he shows support for the Wen. Don't worry, don't worry, Jin Zixuan and his small band of loyalists (Mianmian I love you, Mianmian I would die for you) are still on the good side, Lotus Pier has taken them in (because they haven't been burned down to the ground this time around)!! The Wens' forces and control, plus the Jins' money and control, equals UH OH. FUCK.

Wei Ying also can't get any read on his precious family - he thinks they're in Qishan, because there's no information implying that they are literally down in the city nearby. He's fucking terrified, but also doesn't want to get them into anymore danger by trying to attempt contact from them if they are alive. He needs to figure out if they're alive. He needs to know whether or not they are safe. How? There was a teenager who did always seem to know everything going on in the Jianghu. Wei Ying just needs to get into contact with him. He puppeteers a crow to nab some paper from a nearby city (just missing a Xue Yang storming down the street after another failure at decoding Wei Ying's notes), and then realises that his hands are far too fucked up to write. The Burial Mounds tries to help, but Its hands (even more exaggeratedly wonky and fucked up than Wei Ying's) are not helpful. THIS is where the crows get their true calling.

They're already brimming with yin energy, and that's only heightened through their time in the Burial Mounds, so it can be reasonably implied that they are smarter than a toddler depending on how much resentful energy they are exposed to and how long they have been in the Burial Mounds. They see Wei Ying desperately using his fingers dipped in blood (nobody's really selling ink and calligraphy brushes in these wartimes so they can't be nabbed, okay??) to try and write something, and they (sort of) learn as he writes. So, while he's passed out after so long of not sleeping, they take matters into their own wings and start scratching out the message with the blood and their claws (so much neater than what Wei Ying was dropping). Then they send a crow out with that message out to the first war camp they find, listening out for the name of the person they're searching for, and basically bombard this guy with both the message and their presence.

Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang gets attacked by a crow while he's supposed to be taking his mind off worrying over his da-ge out on the battlefield with a walk. He's at first confused and offended and rather scared (did he insult the crows somehow??) but then he realises that there's some sort of scroll clutched in the crow's grasp. He opens it, fully expecting it to be some sort of death threat rambling slur filled letter (okay so maybe not that but who knows what's going through his mind??) and finds a simple message. "My sect was filled with monsters, but I had a family. Ensure their safety, and I will ensure your victory."

It seems as though Wei Wuxian is not dead.

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